Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Will groaned as a loud banging at the door startled him from the dense fogginess of the sleep he was so rarely afforded. He ran his hands tiredly over his face, pinching the bridge of his nose in the process. His dogs barked loudly at the door, whimpering to be let out to greet the stranger at the door. Will squinted his eyes at the door, trying to make out the shape of the figure on the other side of the door. A tall, broad silhouette was outlined on the other side of the curtain at the door. Jack, Will though miserably. Then, a weight dropped like a stone in his stomach as he realized that the day had finally come. Will's heart clenched and bile rose in his throat. His breath began to quicken and he could feel cold sweat begin to bead on his forehead. However, before he could travel too far down this guilt spiral, Jack banged on the door in quick succession once again.

"Will!" he barked, "We don't have all damn day. Open the fucking door." Jack was clearly not in the mood for Will to drag his feet any longer, so he kicked off his covers and stalked over the door, opening it to find a stern-looking Jack dressed in his usual black suit courtroom attire, the bland, pasty beige tie boring holes in Will's eyes. Hannibal would never wear a tie so ugly…

"You look like you're dressed for a funeral, Jack" Will ground out irritably at him, refusing to make eye contact with him.

"I am. Once this case is over, he's dead to me. And he better be dead to you too. Now take a damn shower and try to make yourself look presentable. I'm not letting your credibility come into question because you look like you haven't slept in years and smell like wet dog." Jack's words had a bite but Will could feel the tendrils of concern reaching towards him and he couldn't bear it. He didn't deserve it. Feeling such concern directed at him was enough for the tell-tale sign of anxiety to start creeping back in so he coughed roughly before pulling open the door further.

"Yeah, right. Make yourself at home" he tried to manage a small smile as he gestured towards his humble living room but all that flashed across his face was a pained grimace. Jack brushed past him and sat near the fireplace, his eyes roaming about the room before settling on the several empty bottles of whiskey and glasses strewn about the floor next to Will's bed. Unable to face the look Jack was bound to give him, Will turned and left the room quickly, making his way upstairs to shower.

The warm water felt like a luxury he didn't deserve. Will growled irritably at himself as he switched the water to its coldest setting, shaking and gasping as the freezing water hit his skin. He didn't care. He wouldn't let himself care. He knew the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane, and he knew they rarely saw fit to provide warm water for a shower they were unlikely to get on a regular basis anyway. He knew Hannibal was bound for that godforsaken place. The thought of Hannibal suffering there was somehow both too much and not enough.

Will washed quickly, a habit formed by his own time in the BSHCI and his general lack of self-care. He stood at himself in front of the mirror, wet curls clinging to his forehead and water dripping down his face. His eyes stared blankly back at him, devoid of emotion. He ran a hand over the scar on his stomach, knowing this he had deserved too. He had paid then but he felt that now, somehow, he would pay even more this time as Hannibal would be separated from him. He glanced up at the scar on his forehead and swallowed as he felt the ghost pressure of the bone saw against his skin, the cool metallic blade sending shivers down his spine. Even now, you would still go to him? Abigail's voice echoed in his head and he closed his eyes against the onslaught of contradictory emotions that rose within him. No, he told himself as his heart simultaneously whispered yes. Will shook his head at himself. It had to be no. The time for their separation had come and there was nothing he could do to stop it, even if he wanted to. He ran a towel through his hair before combing it back. His gaze lingered once again on the angry red scar on his forehead, still too fresh to have turned white. He debated covering it. He did not.

When Will finally made his way back downstairs, the man Jack had seen upon entering the house was not the man who stood before him now. Beard freshly trimmed, hair combed neatly to the side and back, and dressed in a fine black suit, white button down and dark green tie, he looked healthy. But Jack noticed with a twinge of sadness that his eyes were still dead. A fearful combination of depression, anger, and heartbreak buried beneath denial and self-loathing. His eyes betrayed him as a man who felt he had nothing to live for.

Will snatched up his glasses from the nightstand beside his bed and put them on before glancing to Jack.

"Coffee?" he asked him gruffly. Jack nodded, grateful for the distraction from the pain he saw in his eyes. Will rummaged around in the kitchen before eventually walking back to Jack with two travel mugs of coffee. Jack took one gratefully and stepped to the door. He walked to the car and turned the key over, warming up the car while waiting for Will.

Will made sure his dogs were fed and paused at the door. He turned to look over his shoulder, towards his bed.

"Should we talk about teacups and time and the rules of disorder?" Hannibal asked. Will could see him sitting in the chair by his bed so clearly he was almost sure it was real. He swallowed as the storm of complicated feelings began to rage in his head once more before being startled out of it by a sudden wetness on his hand. He looked down to see Winston licking at his hand, a habit he had taken to recently when he picked up on Will's mounting anxiety. Will did manage a slight smile this time, scratching Winston behind the ears before the smile quickly fell as he heard Jack honking impatiently. Will locked the door behind himself and braced himself against the cold of the falling snow.

Chapter Text

Will swirled the remaining dregs of his coffee, now cold, nervously as Jack pulled into the parking lot of the United States District Court of Maryland. The cold white exterior of the building, bland with its rows of windows and concrete steps, lacked all of the pomp and circumstance that would be expected of anything that would ever involve Hannibal. There were no arches, no detailed marble carvings, and no golden accents. It was bureaucracy in all of its glory and just the sight of it made Will want to split his head open against the wall. Jack turned off the car and cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Listen, Will-” he started but Will shook his head quickly.

“No, Jack. Whatever you’re about to say, I don’t want to hear it.” Will squinted outside the car window through the sunlight, searching for something else to focus on besides Jack’s irritating concern.

“Will, I just want to make sure you’re in the right headspace for this. You haven’t seen the man in months and the last time I saw you two together before I arrested him, he was cutting your damn head open!”

Will didn’t reply, opting instead to ignore the twist in his stomach that Jack’s words brought on. He threw open the car door and stepped outside into the crisp Baltimore air. He drew his black peacoat over his shoulders and wound a dark blue scarf around his neck. He glanced up at the clear blue skies and couldn’t help but noting how unfair it was, that the skies weren’t as stormy as his thoughts.

“Will,” Jack’s voice drew him out of his reverie. Will glanced towards Jack and Jack jerked his head towards the courthouse and Will groaned inwardly as his eyes settled on the rather large group of reporters and cameras that were swarming by the doors. Fuck.

“Jack? Will?” an inquisitive voice asked behind them, and they turned to see Alana walking toward them, one hand clutching her cane and the other wrapped steadfastly around Margot’s hand. Will tipped his head slightly upwards in recognition but felt no desire to engage in conversation with either of them. He knew that Alana had been instrumental in securing his life (and face) from the clutches of Cordell and Mason, but in all honesty he didn’t have it in him to forgive her for all her past slights against him- not believing him about Hannibal, sleeping with Hannibal, hunting them down in Italy…

Alana smiled wryly, but the smile doesn’t seem to reach her eyes. Will glanced at her, taking in her smart plaid pantsuit, low cut black shirt and stony gaze. She’s changed too. Hannibal changed us all. Made us in his image, he thinks, mulling the thought over in his head, tasting it in curiosity. He couldn’t help but wonder what she would be willing to do now, for Margot, for herself, for revenge. He could basically feel the revenge settled deep within her chest, locked away for safekeeping. This was not the Alana he had once turned to for comfort when he feared the dark recesses of his own mind. No, this Alana was more calculating, cold, and shrewd. She was surely up to something, but what, Will could not name.

Will examined these thoughts in his head as he followed Jack towards the courthouse, its shadow looming threateningly over them, the darkness beckoning Will with a heady insistence. The darkness that pulled at his mind only deepened its grasp as his eyes settled on a familiar head of curly red hair. As if she had read his mind with some witchy ability, Freddie turned her head toward the approaching party and started clicking her camera in rapid succession, the flashes grabbing the attention of the other reporters so that within seconds, cameras were trained on all of them and reporters pressed in against them on all sides.

Will was immediately overwhelmed by the flashes, questions yelled in his direction, and the distracting feelings of curiosity he could pick up from the forty or so people that crowded their pathway to the doors.

“Mr. Graham, how do you feel knowing that you have been credited with the arrest of Hannibal Lecter?”

“Mr. Graham, over here! Are we correct in assuming you’re in support of Dr. Lecter being given the death penalty for his crimes?”

“Will, how do you feel knowing he’s paying for his crimes alone while you’re out here, going unpunished for your own murders?” This last question came from Freddie and Will felt a rage well within him and he longed to lash out at her and tear her to shreds himself. Alana and Jack must have noticed his clenched fists and Alana annoyingly swooped in to tell the press no comments would be made at this time while Jack bellowed at the crowd to move out of the way.

They finally made their way through the throngs of the crowd and through the doors and Will quickly walked towards the bathroom once he had the chance. He closed a stall door behind him and quickly shed his coat, scarf, and suit jacket, yanking his tie loose. He took several steadying breaths and ran his hands over his face. I can’t do it, I can’t do it. The thought of seeing Hannibal again, for the first time in about eight months was too much to bear. The last glimpse he had of Hannibal was as he knelt in the snow outside of Will’s house with his hands behind his head, his eyes fixated on Will as he assured him that Will would always know where to find him. Will saw this very image every day- in his dreams when he managed to sleep, the first thing he saw when he woke, and every time he closed his eyes.

“Will?” he heard Alana call as she knocked softly on the bathroom door. He rolled his eyes.

“What, Alana?” he tried to snap, but it only came out pathetically exhausted.

“May I come in, Will?” she asked, a little of her old kindness apparent in her voice once again. He didn’t answer, but that was hardly uncharacteristic of him, so she slowly opened the door anyway and came inside, her heels clicking loudly on the tile floor. Will opened the stall door and looked at her.

“What, Alana?” he asked tiredly. She looked him over, concern flashing through her eyes before she steeled herself against it. She had finally learned he would not respond well to pity.

“Will, there’s something I need to tell you” she began, her blue eyes scanning his face as she spoke.

“Will! Let’s go! We were due in court five minutes ago” Jack barked sharply from the other side of the door. Will sighed gratefully, not in the mood for Alana’s emotional bullshit. He re-tied his tie, pulled his suit jacket on, and folded his coat neatly over his arm. He brushed back his hair, adjusted his glasses, and stalked out of the door, leaving Alana behind him.

Chapter Text

The courtroom was packed. Jack strode in confidently, his head held high now that he had regained all his former reputation and then some since Hannibal’s arrest. Will followed in Jack’s shadow reluctantly, his eyes fixated on the monotonous multicolored carpet that reminded him of television static. He tried his hardest to ignore the hush that fell over the room as the rows upon rows of people in the courtroom noticed him. Despite his best efforts, their whispers carried and he knew they were talking about him, accusing him of a creative variety of crimes. But only one word echoed in Will’s head. Traitor. Traitor. Traitor.

Will bit his lip, trying to focus on the pain as a reminder of where he was. He needed to be present. He couldn’t go inside his head, not today. Hannibal was not here. Not yet. Will had not glanced towards the defendant’s bench but he knew instinctively that he was not in the courtroom. He couldn’t feel Hannibal, and he had always been able to somehow.
Jack took a seat in the front row behind the prosecution, and Will followed with conflicting feelings. Part of him longed to stare Hannibal down as he was brought to justice, but he equally longed to just slit the throat of the judge and everyone in this courtroom if it meant killing Hannibal himself. Hannibal beneath him, gasping for breath as Will tightens his grip on his neck, pressing his knees down harshly on his thighs...Another vision takes over, Hannibal slaughtering Jack, Alana, the judge, before turning to Will with an elated smile, blood splattered across his face, falling from his lips… he walks towards Will, hands him the knife and Will stabs a guard blocking the courtroom exit, the knife sinking so far in the man’s chest, Will can fill the hot blood congeal thickly on his hand before he yanks the knife out again… Hannibal grabs his forearm, pulling him towards the exit and they break into a run…

The sound of Alana’s metal cane bumping against the wooden bench as she rests it next to her jerks Will back to attention. Will takes a moment to truly study their surroundings. In all his years’ experience as a cop and even some as an expert witness, he had never seen a courtroom so full. They had stopped admitting the public, but the last several rows of the courtroom seemed to be reporters. Freddie sat amongst this group, smoothing her bright pink blazer down her sides in a pathetic attempt to appear professional. Scowling, Will moved towards the middle of the courtroom and tried to swallow the lump in his throat. There was Georgia Madchen’s mother… he had met her once, before Hannibal burned her daughter alive. She had been so lost, so heartbroken and confused. He remembered she had said she was relieved when her daughter was sedated… was she now glad her daughter was dead?

The next person his eyes settled on made his heart stop in his chest. There was a girl, maybe about 18 and she looked so much like Beverly… his eyes slid over to the older people beside her and realized they both looked incredibly sad, the man had his eyes fixed on his hands folded in his lap and the woman was resting her head on the man’s shoulder, her eyes staring blankly ahead. Beverly-no, not Beverly- made eye contact with him and narrowed her eyes. Will looked away quickly. He hadn’t known Beverely had a sister. She had never shared much about her personal life. Will had liked that about her.

Will quickly realized that the vast majority of the courtroom was occupied by the victims’ families. They all radiated a potent mixture of rage and depression. Will could empathize, naturally. Looking across these faces- some familiar, most not- he couldn’t help but feel guilty of these crimes too, as if each murder Hannibal committed, Will was guilty of too. He could also feel his own rage resurface. But the rage was familiar, comfortable even. At least with rage he knew what he was feeling was right. Good, even. Right? No...spoke an argumentative voice in Will’s head. His eyes found Bedelia next, fuck you, before also seeing Price and Zeller. They appeared to be in some heated argument about something and Kade Prurnell, the FBI director responsible for Will’s own trial, kept shooting them irritated glances before finally shushing them to which Price objected to rather brashly before realizing who he was talking to, which sent Zeller into a fit of silent laughter. Will couldn’t help but smile softly, glad to know that some things hadn’t changed. Hannibal hadn’t seen fit to change them.

A hush, quieter than the one that had been afforded him, fell across the room as a door behind the judge’s bench opened and a guard walked through. Immediately, cameras began flashing, filling the room with dazzling white before several more guards came in, the sound of clanging metal following them. Will’s breath stopped abruptly as his eyes fell on Hannibal, dressed impeccably as ever in a dark navy blue three-piece suit, white collared shirt, maroon tie, and complete with brown oxfords. His eyes immediately settled on Will’s, expression unreadable. Will’s heart stopped too and he felt sure he was going to pass out. Emotions flooded his senses, rage followed quickly by joy, by relief, followed by sadness. Will’s face naturally betrayed none of this, however, and his expression was just as unreadable to Hannibal. Alana looked nervously between them and Jack simply glared at Hannibal.

Hannibal looked at each of them as he was led by his cuffed hands to the defendant’s bench. He shared a small smile with Bedelia, and Will shuddered as a quick wave of jealousy rushed through his veins. As if he sensed it, Hannibal looked back at Will, head tilting slightly to the side in interest. His nostrils flared ever so slightly and going red with embarrassment, Will realized Hannibal was breathing in his scent. Hannibal closed his eyes just so, an expression of pure contentment flashed across his face before it just as quickly disappeared. Hannibal was yanked forward by the guards as his handcuffs were locked into the bar on the desk. Despite being cuffed at both his hands and feet, he still had walked with such grace and elegance, as if it were his own office where he and Will had shared so many hours together. As Hannibal faced the front of the courtroom, Will couldn’t help but keep glaring at the back of his head. Hannibal turned his face over his shoulder just slightly and smirked, knowing Will could see him. Hannibal’s face breaking open beneath his hands as Will punched him mercilessly...

“All rise for the honorable Judge Honesworth…”

Chapter Text

Silence settled over the courtroom as the judge made his way to his seat at the judge’s bench. After he sat, the rest of the courtroom settled into their seats as well and Hannibal was shoved roughly into a chair by a guard before he had the chance to sit. Hannibal, his hair slightly askew, fixed the guard above him with a piercing stare, a look Will knew all too well as an expression of offense. Undoubtedly, Hannibal was mentally browsing his rolodex to find the perfect recipe for said offender; Will wondered what wine Hannibal would select, and if he’d still want to ask Will to dine with him once again, despite… everything.

The judge motioned to the bailiff, who then turned to open another door. In came an assortment of twelve individuals who shuffled nervously into the Jury Box. Will quickly glanced the jurors over, taking in the wide variation in personalities, races, genders, and ages represented. His eyes were drawn to a young girl, perhaps a mere eighteen or nineteen, who bore striking resemblance to Abigail. Was he doomed to be tortured incessantly by the spectres from his past? Perhaps I deserve it. Next to the young girl with her unlucky first jury duty assignment was a man of around 45 who seemed the type to carry a gun on his hip despite not needing it for any immediate purpose, but rather for the sake of “exercising his rights.” Will rolled his eyes internally. The judge clearing his throat jerked Will back to attention.

“Esteemed members of the jury, this is a federal criminal case of the United States Government against the defendant, Dr. Hannibal Lecter. Dr. Lecter, as his lawyers have informed me, is entering an excuse plea of insanity. Is the counsel ready to proceed?” Hannibal’s lawyers and the prosecution both gave their assent, but Will didn’t hear them. Insanity? His hands started shaking uncontrollably, though from anger or concern he was not sure.

“Will? Are you alright?” Alana whispered beside him, peering at him anxiously. Will glanced at her out of the corner of his eye and nodded, offering a pained half-smile. How had no one told him Hannibal would be using a fucking insanity plea? The idea was ridiculous and Hannibal was bound to lose. Don’t I want him to lose? The traitorous voice in his head, however, told him that this wasn’t quite true. He stubbornly shoved those feelings down though and tried to take steadying breaths. The trial had literally just begun and it was already a farce.

“The time has now come for opening statements.We turn first to the prosecution. You may proceed,” Judge Honesworth gestured towards a woman sitting in front of Will at the prosecution’s bench. She was short in stature, but she carried herself with such confidence that she seemed to tower over the others in the courtroom. Her black hair was pulled behind her head in a severe bun and she wore an expression of grim determination as she approached the jury box. Will was seated at such an angle so that he could see half of Hannibal’s face; from what he could see, Hannibal’s expression was relaxed and only portrayed simple curiosity, perhaps even amusement, as he watched the young prosecutor pass in front of him.

“Distinguished members of the jury,” she began in a commanding voice, “we are gathered here today to hear the case brought against Dr. Hannibal Lecter. His lawyers would have you believe that this man- this incredibly intelligent, distinguished, and successful man- acted out of unadulterated insanity over the past ten years rather than knowingly, willingly, and cleverly murdering seventeen people since his arrival in our country. They would have you buy into the theory that this man of impeccable academic reputation in the very field of psychiatry fell into insanity himself, unbeknownst to his numerous psychiatric colleagues.

"I am here today to tell you that Dr. Lecter is hardly insane. He committed seventeen known murders over the past ten years, all of which he prepared for with cool and careful precision before then mutilating their corpses, eating their organs, and displaying them in grotesque formations that he would consider art. Dr. Lecter is not insane; he is a highly intelligent psychopath who is hiding behind a plea of insanity in efforts to spare his own life. I ask you, members of the jury, to keep Dr. Lecter’s professional experience and social reputations in mind as you evaluate the extensive evidence against him. You must find the defendant both legally sane and guilty of his federal crimes of murder and desecration of human corpses.”

The jury members watched the young woman intently as she straightened her black blazer and turned on her heel. As she passed Hannibal, she met his eyes and tilted her chin ever so slightly in challenge, which only served to make Hannibal smile in appreciation. Dick.

Will peered behind his glasses at the jury members and saw that several of them were looking nervously at Hannibal, their eyes darting from him quickly whenever he looked their way. They were afraid of him. Terrified in fact. All but the gun-toting man in the front row who looked like he was very likely imagining some romanticized scenario in his head in which he could single-handedly take down Hannibal. As if. The girl next to him- not Abigail, not Abigail- shifted nervously in her seat and Will couldn’t help but feel a protective impulse surge through him. Feeling paternal, Will? asked the Hannibal in his mind palace.

Hannibal’s lawyer- who sat as far from Hannibal as he could at the small table- stood next, smoothing out his clearly expensive suit in the process. It was no secret that Hannibal had money, and money could buy you the best legal protection there was to offer. The man walked to stand in front of the jury as well.

“Honored members of the jury, I am here today to defend the name of Dr. Lecter against the gross allegations levied against him. Dr. Lecter has always demonstrated throughout his professional and personal relationships that he is a devoted, helpful, and modest man who would never willingly engage in violence, much less premeditated murder. Dr. Lecter is rather a victim of his own mind. He unknowingly fell prey to his diseased mind and did commit crimes of which he remained unaware of until he was charged with them. As several psychiatric experts will attest over the next couple of days, Dr. Lecter, as a result of an untreated disease of the mind, unknowingly committed acts of violence over which he had no control. He was neither in control of his actions, and as a result, did not understand the nature nor quality of his actions. Dr. Lecter is the kind, intelligent, charismatic, and successful man that the prosecution described, and he is the real victim here of a mind that waged war against his body. It is for these reasons you must find Dr. Lecter legally insane and therefore not guilty of the alleged crimes he is charged with.”

The lawyer walked back to his seat and Hannibal nodded slightly at him in recognition. Will couldn’t help but long to take the lawyer’s place at the table next to Hannibal, to be the one defending him. How he longed to see Jack’s shocked expression at Will protecting the man he had turned away from his side just months earlier. If only I hadn’t…

The rest of the day proceeded in an incredibly boring manner as the facts of the case were presented by the prosecution. In totality, Hannibal was being charged with the murder of seventeen people. Seventeen victims of which the FBI was aware of, that is. The prosecutor spent the majority of the afternoon laying the groundwork for evidence of Hannibal’s intelligence with the hopes of eventually convincing the jury that he was conniving enough to fake an insanity plea. Will easily lost track (and interest) in the woman’s words, never having been one to gravitate to Hannibal for his intelligence. Instead, he found his mind wandering frequently to the precarious state his mind was in. He felt as if a war was being waged between his heart and mind as competing voices of hatred for Hannibal and his own desire to be reunited with him vied for his attention. His head was pounding with a severe headache and he was emotionally exhausted.

Yawning tiredly, Will smoothed his hair back and caught Hannibal glancing at him over his shoulder. Hannibal did not smile, but his eyes somehow held a soft expression that only Will would be able to see. Will tilted his head over so slightly to the side in interest. He swallowed thickly and his heart clenched as the guard yanked Hannibal up by the arm roughly, causing a clanging of his cuffs against the desk. Even as he was handled roughly towards the door, their eyes couldn’t leave each other. Part of me will always want to run away with him...

Chapter Text

Will shot up from the bench as soon as the door leading Hannibal back to his cell closed. Wrapping his scarf snugly around his neck, he pushed past Alana, ignoring Jack’s call to get his attention, and rushed towards the courtroom exit. People began to fill the aisle, and Will suppressed a shiver as he began to see the faces of victims on all sides of him. Beverley, Georgia Madchen, Marissa Schurr, Abigail… their faces started to blur in his mind and he hurriedly elbowed his way through the crowd before finally making it through the doors.

He strode out of the courthouse and down the steps before mentally kicking himself for not having had the foresight to avoid the reporters. Those that had not been allowed in to the proceedings immediately caught sight of him and began pressing up on him on all sides, desperately asking him to reveal the sordid details of the case- if Hannibal had looked as insane as he actually was, if Hannibal was going to get the death penalty. It seemed, too, that they had taken note of Freddie’s irresponsible question about his own murders and had done their own research. They were just as interested in him, hungrily asking him if perhaps he belonged in a cell right next to Hannibal. Will kept his mouth stubbornly shut, hiding his eyes behind his glasses and shoving his hands in his pockets to fight the overwhelming wave of awkwardness and anxiety he felt coming over him.

“Give him some damn space, will you?” came an evenly cool voice behind him. Margot brushed past Will, trailing a faint scent of her expensive perfume behind her. He subconsciously let his mind settle on that scent and be transported to a night- what, a year ago now?- in which he had clung to that scent with all the desperation a lonely man could muster. But remembering that night made him inevitably remember his unborn child, yet another thing Hannibal had taken from him. No matter who he saw or what he did, Hannibal was a constant presence in his head. He enveloped the dark recesses of his mind while also bathing in the light of his best memories. Hannibal was a paradoxical yet stubbornly permanent fixture in the foyer of Will’s mind.

Margot wrapped her arm around Will’s and proceeded to pull him behind her through the throng of reporters. Something about her demanded quiet respect- maybe it was the money- and the crowd reluctantly let them through. Will found himself unwilling to let go of Margot’s arm even as the distance between them and the reporters increased. Alana and Jack were nowhere to be found and Will allowed himself one brief moment of respite in the physical contact of someone he actually had a semblance of respect for. If Margot thought anything of it, she didn’t say anything and instead kept her eyes straight forward as they walked the length of the parking lot.

“I felt nothing when I killed Mason,” she said abruptly. Will shot her an interested glance but said nothing.

“I suppose I had expected to feel something. Regret, sadness, joy… but, nothing. Staring at his body, I just felt as if I had done a menial task, something as simple as brushing my hair in the morning.”

“Or taking out the garbage,” Will offered snidely. He knew the comment had been a risk. But he didn’t care. Not really. She smirked slightly in response.

“Yes, I suppose so. But now I don’t know what I’m to do. I spent so much of my life focusing on killing my brother, that now that he’s gone, I don’t know what my purpose is. I got what I wanted, but I still feel… empty. Though I recognize I much rather have this, this life with Alana, than having his face always looming behind my eyelids.” Will furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

“Alana?” he asked, clearly having no idea what she was referring to. Margot raised her eyebrows at him in slight surprise. “Didn’t you know? We’re dating. Have been, ever since she started working with Mason to track down Hannibal.” Will couldn’t help but flinch just slightly at the mention of Hannibal’s name, an intrusion that truly never left.

“I didn’t know. No one tells me anything. I didn’t even know she was…” Will gestured ambiguously, unsure of what to say, causing Margot to laugh softly.

“Bisexual?” she suggested. “Really? I thought you of all people would have caught on to that.” She frowned at him, but for the life of him, Will had no clue what she was talking about.

“What do you mean ‘of all people?’ That was ages ago, Margot, and seriously- there wasn’t much between us in the first place” Will said tonelessly. Margot smiled at that, shaking her head slightly. “No, I just meant that maybe you’d be able to pick up on it, considering you aren’t exactly straight yourself.” Will’s mind short-circuited at that.

“Excuse me?” he scoffed. “Since when have I not been straight?”

“Since you fell in love with Hannibal, of course. Not to mention your distracted state the entire time I was with you that night. I know what it’s like to have sex and be in a completely different place, Will, and trust me, neither of us were actually with each other that night.” Will pulled his arm from Margot and looked at her incredulously.

“I’m not in love with Hannibal Lecter,” he ground out. “In case you have forgotten, Margot, he tried to eat me alive, in front of me, not six months ago.”

“Tried being the operative word, Will. If he truly wanted you dead, you would have been dead a long time ago. I suspect that, unlike me, Dr. Lecter found himself experiencing a rather unwelcome cocktail of emotion when he attempted to kill you, which would explain why he allowed us to capture both of you, instead of slitting both your throats then and there. He found himself unable to kill you, not unlike yourself, or so I’m told” she said slyly, but with such an air of confidence that it unnerved him. He couldn’t bring himself to offer anything in response so he just pulled his coat tighter around himself and looked anywhere but her. She, however, being the incessantly observant person she was, could tell he was in a precarious state.

“Let me take you home, Will,” she said softly. He opened his mouth to sharply decline before he remembered he had come with Jack. Damnit. Jack was the last person he wanted to see right now.

“Alana?” he asked, for he had no real desire to see her either. Margot shook her head.

“No, she’s got other things to attend to. Come, I’ll drop you off.” Will looked around the parking lot before slowly nodding in affirmation. He walked to her car and slid in the passenger seat, pulling off his scarf and placing it in his lap as he got in the car. As she pulled out of the parking lot, his eyes trailed the cold white building in the distance and he just couldn’t seem to look away.

The drive wasn’t short by nature, but to Will it seemed to drag on for years; each second felt like an eternity. He twisted his hands nervously in his scarf and pulled on a couple of the loose strings. Love? With Hannibal? It was a ridiculous thought. He conceded he wasn’t exactly sure if he hated the man or wanted to be his friend, but love? Will chalked it up to Margot projecting her own romanticized ideas of queerness and love in general and shoved the thought away.

The crunch of snow beneath his shoes was oddly comforting as he made his way towards his little white house in the middle of nowhere, his refuge in the storm. Groaning internally as he realized social etiquette was expected, he turned back to look at Margot.

“I think this is the part where I’m supposed to offer you a drink,” he said somewhat uncertainly. Margot smiled softly at him and stepped out of her car, snow falling lightly on her long hair.

“I suppose I have some time. Wouldn’t want to leave you out here to the wolves alone.” Will knew she had meant it as a joke, but the memory of his hands snapping Hannibal’s-no, wait, Randall’s- neck beneath him that fateful night sent a course of adrenaline through him and quickly stuffed down the excitement that arose in him, like that of a predator. I’m no predator, I’m not a predator, I stopped being a predator, right?

Will poured them both a couple fingers of whiskey and settled into a chair by the fire he had started. He was intent on not talking and found himself staring into the flames, watching them lick higher and higher into the chimney. He found himself within another memory, a painful one.

Will tossed Hannibal’s patient notebook into the fire and watched his sketches of clocks turn to ashes before his eyes. Hannibal was truly dedicated to this, their plan to escape together and kill Jack for his trouble.

“Won’t your patients need these after you’re gone?”

“The FBI will pore over my notes if I left them intact. I would spare my patients that scrutiny.” Hannibal flipped through his notebooks, absentmindedly reflecting on patients past.

“That’s very considerate.”

“I’m dismantling who I was and moving it brick by brick. When we’ve gone from this life, Jack Crawford and the FBI behind us, I will always have this place.” He looked fondly around his office and offered Will a small smile.

“In your memory palace?” Hannibal nodded.

“If I’m ever apprehended, my memory palace will serve as more than a mnemonic system, I will live there.”

“Could you be happy there?” Will asked, his heart beating fast as he awaited Hannibal’s response.

“All the palace chambers are not lovely, light and high. In the vaults of our hearts and brains, danger awaits. There are holes in the floor of the mind.” Hannibal smiled sadly and Will’s stomach fluttered with nerves.

Will realized with a sharp intake of his breath that that was the night Hannibal had known. He must have smelled Freddie on him, for he had seen her earlier that day. How could I have been so stupid? With this realization came a second, even more painful one. Will knew now that the night before the planned entrapment, when he dined with Hannibal for the last time, Hannibal had offered him a way out, a chance to come clean and still run away with him, without killing Jack, even. Just the two of them leaving this world behind.

“I would forgive you, Will,” Hannibal had said.

Will buried his head in his hands and felt an intense wave of anger- at himself, at Hannibal, at Jack, at everything. If only I had been honest with him, we could have just left then… he never would have killed Abigail… he never would have tried to kill me in Italy… he would have showed me the life he built for me. For the both of us.

Will couldn’t help but fall headfirst into a spiral of anger and guilt. Perhaps if he weren’t so broken, he could have cried. But as it stood, he couldn’t even shed a tear for himself. He simply stared into the flames, pulled nervously at his hair, and drank several more fingers of whiskey. Margot said nothing. He didn’t need, or want, her to. But the fact he wasn’t alone kept him tethered to reality.

When Will reached for the bottle of whiskey again, Margot grabbed it from his hand with surprising speed. He furrowed his brow and was about to retort in anger but realized she was right. He’d seen his father rely on the alcohol too much and wasn’t keen to repeat that behavior. Instead, he showed Margot to the door, thanking her for the company and she simply smiled at him and with a light squeeze to his shoulder, left.

The house was oddly quiet and he could hear his own heart beating. For as much as he enjoyed the silence, in this moment, it was suffocating. Lonely. Empty. And cold. He made his way to his bed and curled up under the blankets. Taking the hint, Winston curled up next to him. Sensing his sadness, Winston laid his chin on Will’s shoulder and Will scratched his ears in return. With every passing moment, the silence was deafening. It pressed down on him from every angle and he stared hopelessly at the ceiling, trying desperately to avoid the flickers from the fire that only conjured more memories of Hannibal. He wondered if Hannibal was in his memory palace now. If he was, was he happy there? Did he see Will there, too, as much as Will saw Hannibal in his own memories? Will shifted restlessly at the thought. Sleep did not pay him a visit.

Chapter Text

Will stared absentmindedly at the ceiling. Fuck it. With a grunt, he pulled himself into a sitting position on the bed and rubbed his hands tiredly across his face. He hadn’t slept all night and his mind was at war within him. He needed to get the fuck out of here.

He meandered down the short hallway to his kitchen, where he poured some hot water in a mug and set it in the microwave. While that was heating up, he walked into the bathroom and reluctantly turned his attention to his reflection. Dark circles had appeared under his eyes and his face looked fully drained of color. He would say that he looked worse than he felt, but the truth was, he felt as if he was already dead- so really, he couldn’t look half bad given that.

The microwave timer went off and he went back to the kitchen to add his cheap instant coffee to the mug, stirring it quickly. Without even giving it a chance to cool off, he took a gulp of it, barely feeling the scalding liquid slide down his throat. A part of him had hoped that the burning sensation, the pain, would bring him back to reality, but he felt nothing. He wouldn’t even allow himself time to take in the morning, intent on punishing himself as he was. He downed the rest of the coffee in a matter of minutes and then was quickly pulling on a pair of old jeans and a worn sweatshirt. He pulled on his waders next before bending down to pull on his wading boots. As an afterthought, he grabbed a heavier winter coat as well since he planned on spending several hours in the stream. He fed the dogs, and was soon headed out the back door, pausing only to grab his fishing gear and throw on a baseball cap.

He began what would be a long trudge through the crunching snow to the stream at the edge of his property. By the time he actually came to the stream, the sun had just begun to rise over the trees on the horizon. He squinted into the sunlight and tried to find some glimmer of hope but once again he felt nothing. He squatted down to open his box of flies and rummaged through them for a minute before he finally decided on one and added it to his wire. He made his way into the water- which was freezing- and stood motionlessly in the middle of the stream. He could feel the water lapping at his waders and searched for that feeling of utter peace that this stream usually brought him, but to no avail. Growing increasingly frustrated, he cast his line out into the stream and waited.

Two hours later, he had had absolutely no luck. Will was naturally a very patient man, but his inability to catch anything today only brought him further distress. That, compounded with the fact that his only stress-relieving activity didn’t bring him the standard amount of peace he had come to expect, was enough to have him in quite a foul mood as he angrily made his way out of the stream and back towards the house.

Back in the house, he shrugged out of the boots and waders and left them to dry before jumping in the shower. That stream had been his refuge over the past few months as he attempted to work through- ignore- the feelings that Hannibal’s incarceration had brought up in Will. In the beginning, he had gone to the stream for several hours every day but as the trial had drawn nearer, Will had been spending the majority of his time studying. He had always found that studying in college had given him plenty of opportunity to lose himself in the content and enable him to avoid all of the other issues in his life. He had spent his life in high school studying to avoid interacting with his father and in college, he had used it as a coping mechanism to avoid interaction with people who could never understand him. He had turned to teaching as the next logical progression of this pattern following his failure of the FBI’s psych evaluations, so it felt natural to turn to studying once again to deal with (and suppress) the pain that separation from Hannibal had brought. Therefore, he had turned to studying for a PhD in forensic psychology, hoping that he could find another way to make himself useful to the field without letting Jack abuse him.

Jack had naturally wanted to do so, of course, as soon as Hannibal had turned himself in. It had only been perhaps two days after his arrest that Jack had shown up at Will’s door, asking to borrow his imagination once again. Will, still incredibly defensive in that moment, had simply turned around and shut the door in Jack’s face. Jack seemed to have gotten the message though and surprisingly, after this interaction repeated itself for a few weeks, he had finally given up and had left Will alone. So, out of his jobs at the FBI as both Jack’s bloodhound and as a professor, he turned to the only other distraction available to him- more school.

He had opted to take his classes exclusively online and sped through his work with astounding speed. His own professors questioned how he was getting the work done so fast, but Will was less than willing to share that he had hardly slept since the night- which had been months ago- and that most days he worked on assignments through meals and often forgot to eat until it was midnight, where he would then eat some random assortment of easily prepared food. He performed well in the classes, naturally, and quickly gained a reputation for his work, but that meant nothing to him. He did it to keep his mind busy and out of a desire to use his empathy for good, to be of some use to the field of forensic psychology as a whole, instead of lending it to the FBI for its abuse once again. Not to mention he could barely stomach the thought of working a case with Jack just as he had before. He had had Hannibal before, as his paddle. As much as he hated to admit it to himself, he was not willing to get involved with profiling again without Hannibal’s steadying presence, and he knew very well he no longer had that.

Will glanced at the clock and saw that it read 7:30 AM. He drummed his fingers absentmindedly on the kitchen counter, debating. Fuck it. He decided he simply had no desire to ever step room in that courtroom ever again. He wouldn’t be showing up today, or the next, or the one after that. Jack and the FBI be damned. Hannibal be damned. Damn it all to hell.

Unfortunately for Will, Jack knew he was a flight risk, which is why he had insisted on picking up Will on the way to Maryland every morning for court. He had presented this suggestion to Will under the guise of concern, but Will had naturally seen right through this and knew that the FBI was fucked without Will’s testimony against Hannibal, as both a criminal profiler and Hannibal’s closest confidant. Will of course had initially refused, but was soon served with a subpoena, legally ensuring that he would testify to all he knew of Hannibal Lecter.

One day in court, however, had been more than Will could take. He was tired of all the bullshit and Hannibal’s “insanity” defense and he just wouldn’t participate. Jack wasn’t due for another thirty minutes, so Will made a snap decision. He changed into a pair of black jeans and pulled on a thick, dark grey knit sweater before pulling on a pair of winter boots. He grabbed his keys, hopped into his car, and peeled out of his driveway.

He had no destination but drove with a determined grimace nonetheless. The roads were fairly empty this early in the morning and the thick snow slowed him down some, but he was able to feel a small sense of peace as he drove subconsciously along a familiar path through Virgina and past the border into Maryland. After about an hour of driving, he suddenly found himself parked outside of Hannibal’s house.

He gripped the steering wheel and gritted his teeth against the rising tide of anxiety within him. He hadn’t been to Hannibal’s house since before Italy and had found it too painful to visit after Hannibal’s arrest. Yet, as he sat staring blankly at the house in front of him, he could also feel a deeper undercurrent of yearning within him. He was too weak to resist it. Always had been, really.

Will finally steeled himself for the memories that would come flooding back to him as he walked to the front door. The house hadn’t been sold, but the FBI hadn’t relinquished the property either, considering the possibility that evidence could appear at any moment. With a sense of trepidation, Will picked the lock to Hannibal’s door and eased it open. Upon seeing the entryway, his nerves were immediately settled as the place alone seemed to radiate a small sense of the peace Hannibal had brought him. Will sighed softly and walked into the dining room before taking a seat at the right hand of the head of the table- what had been his usual spot with Hannibal. He closed his eyes and could see with such clarity the night he and Hannibal feasted on Randall Tier that he wasn’t so sure it was just a memory. Something in the back of his mind made him wonder if Hannibal often visited this night in his memory palace and found the same bittersweet happiness from it that Will did.

After spending well over half an hour in his memories of dining with Hannibal, Will finally stood and walked towards the glass doors at the back of the house, with a mind for some fresh air. While approaching the end of the table, his glasses fell from his pocket and landed under the table. Sighing, he dropped to his knees and leaned under the table to reach for them before something out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. What the fuck? Peering closer, he realized he was seeing a bullet hole in the floor under the table, not even covered up by the rug. Further examination told Will that the bullet had come from under the floor, shot at an upward angle, meaning there absolutely had to be a room underneath the dining room. Confused, he began looking for a door that would lead to a potential downstairs area. Will made his way to the kitchen and, while trying to block out the memories of Abigail, found a door near the pantry that he was quite sure he had never seen behind. He opened the door and was greeted by a rush of cold air and a dark descent of stairs.

He switched on the light and made his way down the stairs to find what to anybody else would have been a scene out of a horror movie. All sorts of materials for a wide range of violence- sawing, cutting, hacking- lined the walls of the basement. But that wasn’t what stood out to Will. He felt something was off about this place, though he couldn’t figure out why. Looking up at the ceiling, he walked to the area of the basement underneath the dining room and found the gunshot hole. He stood in the spot the gun must have been fired from and found himself facing the stairs. It seemed as if someone had fired the gun at someone standing at the bottom of the stairs. But who…?

His train of thought was interrupted as he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He turned to glance around the room and his heart stopped at the sight that greeted him.

“Took you long enough to find me.” Beverley stood on the other side of the basement, leaning nonchalantly against a pillar, a slight smirk playing across her lips.

Chapter Text

Will blinked in rapid succession before a look of incredulity passed across his face.

“Beverley?” he asked, his voice sounding softer and smaller than it had in quite some time.

“Will,” Beverley said, the smirk falling from her lips. She stood up straighter and took a couple steps towards him. Will swallowed nervously.

“I’m used to seeing Abigail, she haunts several of the rooms in my memory palace, but not once have I come across you. Perhaps I should be the one asking you why you haven’t found me” Will said, shoving his hands in his pockets and raising an inquiring eyebrow at her. She scoffed.

“You didn’t want to find me,” Beverley said simply, shrugging her shoulders in the process. Will chewed on that thought for a moment before he nodded slowly.

“Perhaps not,” he smiled sadly. He paused, looking at the ground for several seconds before bringing his eyes back up to her again.

“I tried to kill him, because of you, you know,” Will said. “I sent a man after him with explicit instructions to hang him by his neck and have him wobble precariously on an upturned bucket while he bled out from incisions on his wrists. I wanted him to be so desperate to beat me that he would insist on kicking the bucket out from under himself just to hang on to the illusion that he had won.” Will’s blood boiled as he relayed the details of his past passionate plans of murder.

“Damn, Will, I always knew the FBI was right to deny you a field job. You’re unstable as hell.” She had said it lightly, but it stung Will nonetheless.

“I’m not unstable, Beverley. Not anymore.” She raised her eyebrows in disbelief.

“Well, at least not in the way I used to be. I know who I am. And I know now more than ever who Hannibal is.” Something about the way he had said this last sentence made Beverley narrow her eyes at him.

“You got too fucking close, didn’t you?” She asked him and Will looked anywhere but her eyes. He didn’t answer, he couldn’t. She took a couple steps closer to him and crossed her arms.

“Will, look at me. You’ve got to get him out of your head. Just tell the fucker to-”

“It’s not that simple, Beverley, believe me, you don’t know how bad I want to-”

“He killed me, Will! He fucking strangled me in this basement and took me away from my family! My parents, my little sister-” her voice broke and Will, who had never seen Beverley show any substantial amount of emotion, couldn’t help but surrender to his empathy, and feel the grief, anger, and sadness radiating off of her. He let himself be completely overwhelmed with guilt. He could feel it weighing down his chest and his lungs felt full of lead as he struggled to breathe.

“I’m not the person you were once friends with, Beverley. The guy you thought you were friends with. I’m not a good person. And the worst thing is, I don’t even care that I’m not a good person. I know who I am and I’m no longer in denial of that. I am truly sorry I couldn’t avenge your death, I really did try. But I’m done pretending that I am the person that can do that for you. I just can’t anymore. I can’t,” his voice broke as he looked at her face, which was characteristically devoid of emotion. Despite the blankness of her expression, the disappointment radiating off of her was so tangible Will could feel it like a knife in his chest. He rubbed his face with his hands in a desperate attempt to get himself together. When he opened his eyes again, Beverley was gone.

When he would later look back on this afternoon, he wouldn’t be able to say with any certainty what exactly had pushed him over the edge. All he knew was that one moment he had been explaining to his dead friend why he couldn’t bring her justice, and the next, he was on his knees with his head buried in his hands, fighting the very tears that had fought for release insistently over the past several months.

“Mom always told me it’s better to let the tears out, so they don’t turn into angry words later,” came a soft voice from the corner. Abigail. Will couldn’t take that, not on top of everything else. He leaned back against the wall of the basement and for the first time in months, he let himself truly feel. Silent tears streamed down his face as his body shook against sobs that threatened to break through. Abigail slid down to sit next to him against the wall. He could almost feel her soft touch, could almost believe that her hand was holding his arm in a gesture of comfort.

“I loved him too, you know. Hannibal. I lived with him for over a year, right here in this basement. I knew I couldn’t be seen, so no, he didn’t keep me as a prisoner down here. He was able to make me feel at home though, somehow.” She glanced over at Will, eyes raking over his face which was raw with emotion, eerily reminiscent of the night she had last seen him. His face had been so heartbroken then, right before Hannibal had taken a knife to both of them. Her face changed from one of carefully concealed sadness to one of open fondness.

“Sometimes, he would take me out to this house he had by the sea. I loved it there most of all. He used to tell me how much he longed to show you the bluff, and how he would plan to cross the Atlantic from that house, all three of us in a boat headed for a new life. I wanted that life, Will. I wanted that because I trusted you. And I trusted him too. He truly did care for me, I know that. He used to tell me I reminded him so much of his sister, Mischa. We waited a long time for you to come around. He would tell me sometimes how excited he was at the prospect of running off to Europe with both of us. He told me we were his family. I loved him, Will. I still love him, even though he’s the reason I’m gone. You don’t need to deny yourself that love in front of me.” Abigail smiled at him, a youthful smile so full of hope and love. Knowing he had robbed the world of such a smile made his heart clench even more. When he was finally able to force words from his mouth, his voice had taken on a raspy quality and was thick with emotion.

“I want to hate him for what he did to you. To Beverley. I hate myself for not being able to hate him. If I can’t hate him for what he did, all that shit that he’s done, what does that make me?”

“Human,” Abigail said simply. She tilted her head questioningly.

“After all he’s done, would you still go to him, even now?” Will froze at her question, and he was reminded of when she had asked him this very question over a year ago as he lay recovering in the hospital before seeking out Hannibal in Italy. He closed his eyes and wiped at his tears angrily.

“I told him once that I didn’t know if either of us could survive separation. I don’t know what exactly this is, but it sure as hell is not surviving.”

***

Will didn’t notice when Abigail finally faded from the edges of his view and was equally unaware of the passing time. He remained on the basement floor, back against the wall and his knees drawn up to his chest with his arms folded over them. His head was buried stubbornly in the darkness of his folded arms as he tried to understand his own thoughts. The minutes dragged by but the hours sped past him; he was both aware and unaware of the ticking that had come to define his life- a persistent ticking that sometimes took the physical form of an ordinary clock and at other times was simply a loose collection of cascading numbers that took no real shape and floated aimlessly in his subconsciousness.

The basement’s four metal walls and cool air reminded Will of a dungeon and he felt both enraged that Hannibal had caged him once again and also as if he deserved the punishment. His world swirled around him and he feared he would lose himself inside his mind once again.

Today, however, was not the day such a fate would become Will. A steady click, thump, click drew Will out of his reverie- existential crisis - and had him glancing up at the floor above him with confusion. Three steps, not two… Alana, he realized with a groan. He made no move to stand, content with watching what she would do. The door to the basement he had left open, however, and Alana was walking down the steps towards him soon enough.

“You fancy yourself an unpredictable man, Will, but you are unfortunately quite predictable. I thought I might find you here.” Alana paused at the bottom of the steps and leant against her cane. Will merely glanced up at her tiredly before letting the back of his head fall against the basement wall behind him. Alana, for all her pretense of coolness, couldn’t help the fresh wave of concern that washed over her as she took in Will’s eyes which seemed red and swollen. His hair stuck up at odd angles as if he’d been pulling at it as he was wont to do in times of high anxiety.

“Are you going to tell me to get lost again, or will you let me sit with you this time?” she asked.

“It’s a free country, Alana,” came the intoned response.

“That it is.” Alana sank down to the floor a couple of paces from Will, folding her hands politely in her lap.

“The last time I found you here, you told me you had been visiting old friends. Who were you visiting, Will?”

“Not who you think.”

“What do I think?”

“You think I came here to find Hannibal. To connect with him again” he murmured with distaste.

“And did you?”

“I don’t want to connect with him, Alana. I’m already connected and disconnected. He’s always in my orbit yet I cannot eclipse him and I have no escape.”

“You are drawn to him, as one is drawn to gravity.”

“One isn’t drawn to gravity. Gravity draws one to it.”

“Same thing,” Alana shrugged.

“I assure you, Alana, it is most decidedly not the same thing,” Will said, sighing as he lost himself in staring at the beams of the basement ceiling.

“Who did you see, Will?” Alana repeated her question again, this time softer. Will normally would have pushed back but he simply lacked the ability to care anymore. His body quite literally could not spare the effort.

“Beverley. And Abigail.” Alana nodded slowly before fixing him with her piercing blue gaze, eyes portraying concern but only just concealing the curiosity behind them.

“What did you talk about with them?”

“This was the first time I have seen Beverley, since the night I examined her crime scene. She didn’t say much, but I could feel her disappointment driving into me like a spear. I let her down. I hadn’t even known she was killed down here, in this basement. I can’t leave, because then I leave her here alone.” Alana looked at him sadly before her eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Will, what do you mean you didn’t know she was killed down here? This was all covered in the pre-trial briefing.” Will glanced up at that, expression blank.

“I didn’t read it.”

“Why the hell not, Will? Your testimony is pretty damn important in this case.” Will just shrugged.

“You understand I’m here doing this because I had to talk Jack down from strangling you himself? He’s beyond pissed you didn’t show up to court today.”

“Yeah, well, Jack can go fuck himself.”

“Will!” Alana turned to angle herself towards him while he remained looking stubbornly at the ceiling.

“First of all, you are under legal obligation to appear in court and you know that so stop trying to remain ignorant of that fact. Second of all, Hannibal needs you-”

“Needs me? Alana, do you hear yourself right now? I don’t give a damn about what Dr. Lecter may need.”

“Do you honestly want Hannibal to get the death penalty, Will?” Will froze. He swallowed the bile that was threatening to rise in his throat.

“I thought he was pleading insanity? People like him always win cases like that.” Alana scoffed at him in disbelief.

“This is why you read the pre-trial briefings! We sent you multiple emails and packages and even people to deliver the files to you in person because we knew you’d be resistant but damn, Will. Who exactly do you think is orchestrating Hannibal’s insanity plea so that he avoids the death penalty?” Will just stared at her, confusion apparent on his face.

“I am. Dr. Chilton and I are responsible for Hannibal’s insanity plea. We’re trying to save his life.”

Chapter Text

Soft morning light filtered in through the windows surrounding Will’s bed and woke him gently. He stretched as he blinked in the morning and realized with grim surprise that he had actually managed to sleep a couple hours the night before. He threw off the covers and walked to the door, barely managing to open the door a quarter of the way before his dogs bounded past him on their way outside. Opening the door more fully, he stepped out onto his porch to watch after the dogs and took in the Saturday morning air. He was grateful he would have the weekend to gather his thoughts before braving the courtroom again on Monday. 

Jack had been furious, naturally, that Will had already bailed on the second day of the trial. When Will had returned home the night before and finally checked his phone, he could only manage to listen to the first of Jack’s ten angry voicemails before deleting the rest dispassionately. 

He and Alana hadn’t discussed much more after she had told him about her and Chilton’s involvement in organizing the psychiatric defense for Hannibal’s insanity plea. She had suggested that he go home and read the briefings he had been instructed to several weeks prior before fighting with her. He had agreed to do so and to call her with any questions he had, though he doubted he’d wish to engage any further than necessary with her. 

So, he had left her overbearing presence as soon he had the chance, sparing only the briefest of glances to the kitchen. He could still see so clearly Hannibal standing over the stove, sleeves rolled up and a crisp white apron tied around his waist. He could almost smell the sweet temptation of a homemade dessert baking in the oven, could almost feel the press of Hannibal’s hand to his elbow as he moved past him in the kitchen, and could almost see his deep maroon eyes, alight with fondness as Will took the first bite of whatever he had prepared. 

It was this last image that burned relentlessly into the back of his eyelids now as he stood back in his own kitchen, pouring a sad bowl of cereal for himself. He grabbed his (probably) stale Cheerios- he was bad at feeding himself- and settled down with his legs crossed on the rug in front of the fire. His dogs immediately began claiming spots to curl up near him but he shooed them away reluctantly as he pulled the first dusty box of briefing materials towards him. 

The contents of this box, and that of the other sixteen boxes scattered about Will’s living room, proved to be exactly what Will had been trying to avoid but could no longer- the explicit details of every single known Chesapeake Ripper, Copycat, or otherwise Hannibal Lecter case, complete with photographs. Each box was dedicated to an individual victim, and Will found it hard to believe Hannibal had only killed seventeen people. He knew there were others- many, many others- and that seventeen was all the FBI could conclusively tie him to. Which meant that these seventeen cases all held damning evidence that would ensure Hannibals’ conviction. 

Will glanced down at the name on this first box- Olmstead, Jeremy . With a sigh, he opened the box and began rifling through the photographs that had been included. Olmstead, Jeremy had been fated to become Hannibal’s very own “wound man.” Will brushed his fingers lightly over the picture of Jeremy impaled with every single tool in Hannibal’s possession and was reminded of his own brief “experience” doing the same when he had reimagined Abel Gideon’s crime scene at the Baltimore Hospital for the Criminally Insane not 3 years earlier. He could still feel the cool metal of the IV rack in his hands as he plunged it into the nurse below him, her blood covering his hands with intense red heat. He could remember the elation he had felt in driving forceps into her chest cavity and watching her body crack and give beneath his hands. And he could still remember the strength and power that had flowed through his veins as he looked down at her when he had finished, some twenty-five random instruments pinning her body to the table yet simultaneously elevating her to the level of art. 

Will gasped as these feelings ran through him with such vigor that he was almost knocked unsteady. He tried to take a deep breath but a wave of panic engulfed him. Fuck, not again, please no . He had wanted to put these memories and experiences behind him and yet here he was, living vicariously through Hannibal’s memories of his kills as if they were Will’s own. But he knew that he needed to be reminded of who- what - Hannibal was if he wanted to properly work through his feelings and thoughts regarding the trial. 

With that thought in mind, he exchanged Olmstead, Jeremy for Boyle, Cassie and was transported back to his own real memory this time, of her lying impaled on a head of antlers. “ Practically gift-wrapped ,” he had said. It was gift-wrapped, really. Hannibal had made a gift of Cassie Boyle’s body and had presented it to me. How many other times did I fail to see the gifts he sent me? 

Will continued on like this for hours, but was still only able to make it to Gray, James before he had to force himself to quit. He knew that Bevereley’s box was the next one to comb through and he needed to take a step back. As if on cue, Will’s phone rang, and grateful for the distraction, Will answered it without even checking the number. 

“Hello, Will. How kind of you to finally answer one of my several calls.” 

“Hello, Jack.” Will offered no explanation for his lack of communication and yet Jack seemed to wait for an apology, dragging them both into an awkward silence. Fortunately for Will, he was rather used to awkward silences and felt he owed nothing to Jack anyway so was content to wait patiently for Jack to get over himself. Realizing that any hope of an apology from Will was futile, Jack let out a heavy sigh. 

“Look, Will, I know you don’t exactly want anything to do with me right now, but before I tell you this next bit of news, just know that I did what I did with your best interest in mind.”

“Which really just means it’s in your best interest, isn’t that right Jack?” 

“Will-”

“What, Jack? What did you do?” 

“Look, you have to understand the pressure I’m under to make sure that this case gets shut away in the most secure way possible. It is my responsibility to ensure that Hannibal loses his case. You know the FBI is working with the prosecution and we are pushing for the death penalty. I do hope someone has made you aware of that.” 

“Believe it or not, Jack, I am not actually an idiot. I am aware that everyone will be pushing for Hannibal getting the death penalty.”

“Yeah, well, it was quite a nasty shock for me to find out last week after the first day of the trial that Alana was helping with Hannibal’s defense. She could’ve at least told me.” 

“Come now, Jack, where would be the fun in that?” Will asked sarcastically and he could clearly envision the glare he would receive from him had Jack been delivering this news in person. 

“Will, I know that you and Lecter have a complicated history, but I need you to know how important your testimony is to this case. I’ve explained this to you before but the FBI is counting on you as one of our own.” 

“Formerly.” 

“Will-”

“Forget it, Jack. I don’t owe my loyalty to anyone. Not you, not the FBI, not Alana, and not Hannibal. I want that understood.” 

“I’m glad you mentioned Alana since I’m sure you realize that Hannibal’s lawyers and their defense will most likely see you as a star witness. You will be pulled between Alana and I, and Hannibal too of course.” 

“Your point being? You never sought to warn me of the predators breathing down my neck in the past.” 

“Frankly, I need you to be in the right headspace for this. We all benefit from that, you included.” Will couldn’t help but notice a sense of dread growing within him. He had a horrible suspicion he knew where this was going. 

“Jack, what did you do?” 

“I worked with the defense to petition the judge that you attend court-mandated therapy before you take the stand. The judge agreed. He ordered you to attend two sessions with a psychiatrist who must then sign off on your mental fitness to take the stand.” Fuck . Will ground his teeth together in annoyance. 

“Court-appointed psychiatrist or my own choice?” Will spat out bitterly. 

“I argued for a court-appointed psychiatrist but the defense won that argument. The judge has ensured that you are to have your own choice of psychiatrist.” 

“Bedelia.” He didn’t even think twice. He would, after all, take immense pleasure in offering her snide remarks the entirety of the two sessions. He heard Jack very audibly let out a string of curse words, presumably what he thought was out of Will’s earshot. 

“I goddamn knew it. Will, she’s not going to be any help to you at all.” 

“That remains to be seen by me and my psychiatrist , Jack” Will said gruffly. “Is that all, then?” 

“Yes. I’ll be by to pick you up Monday morning at 6:00 sharp.” 

Will hung up without another word. 

***

When Will awoke the next day, he had a brief couple of seconds of an existence in which the boxes yet unopened in his living room did not exist. However, with each passing breath and blink of his eyes against the sunlight, this ideal world faded piece by piece. Each second brought a new victim’s face to the forefront of his mind and soon enough, his head was pounding- a mockery of the heartbeats they no longer possessed. 

Trying his best to shake off such a macabre start to his morning, he let the dogs outside and proceeded to play with them in the snow for a few minutes. Despite his best efforts to be a good stick-thrower, his arms kept falling with the weight of the pressure from all different directions falling on him. Winston nudged his hand and Will resolved to go back in and feed himself, for the dogs if not himself. 

An hour of meaningless distractions later, Will finally brought himself to sit down with the next box, labeled Katz, Beverly. His hands shook as he reached for the photographs, knowing that laying eyes on them would immediately activate his innate ability to empathize with her killer, which of course was Hannibal. He glanced down at the first picture of her divided corpse and braced himself for the rush of empathy. 

Her death wasn’t personal, not really. He had liked her, in fact. She was smart and quick-witted, but she was oh so foolish. He had played along with her games of entrapment but once she had seen him, he had no other choice. Her death therefore had been quick and painless- she had lost consciousness before he had finished her strangulation anyway- and he would display her with similar coldness and precision. He had frozen her before cutting her into neat little lines. She would try to dissect him? For that, she would be dissected and displayed herself. No, this hadn’t been personal with Beverly… but there was an undercurrent of something personal to the display… Will had sent Beverely to investigate him… if Will wanted to see him under a microscope, he would ensure the image was clear enough for him. 

Will wiped at the slight sheen of sweat that had gathered on his forehead as he opened his eyes. An intense surge of rage sent him into a fitful pace about the room, his hands reflexively curling at his sides. Images of Hannibal on the floor beneath him, his eyes widening as Will tightened his grip on his throat filled Will’s mind and he was so sure that if he saw Hannibal in this moment, he would make sure he never took another breath. Will imagined Hannibal looking in his eyes, knowing that Will was taking his final breaths from him. Will could almost feel the familiar headiness of power and righteousness, and he ached with the desire to see his vision to completion. 

For all his rage and feelings of righteous anger, a nagging voice inside his head whispered traitorous words. The voice insinuated that Will would fail, even now, if he tried to kill Hannibal. He growled in frustration and quickly dismissed the thought. 

He used his anger to propel him forward in the casework, moving through several victims that had been simple cattle to Hannibal. Will expected his stomach to churn at the thought that he’d likely eaten Ibale, Dorene or Ionnoti, Lester at Hannibal’s table but was equally unsurprised that it didn’t. 

After looking through these last few, he noticed he still had two boxes left. He looked at them in confusion before recounting the boxes again, realizing that there were in fact eighteen boxes instead of seventeen. He knew that the box he had been so desperately avoiding- Hobbs, Abigail - sat off to the side from the rest, but he turned his attention now to a newer box, one less dusty than the others that must have been added relatively recently. 

With interest, he pulled the box closer to him and read Verger, Mason . He knew Hannibal was being charged with some of the guards he had killed in rescuing him from Mason’s clutches, but he hadn’t realized Mason’s own murder had been added to the list. He remembered quite clearly that Margot had told him just a few days ago that she had been the one to kill Mason. Knowing that Margot had been blatantly honest with him, the fact that Mason’s murder had now been tacked on to Hannibal’s list of victims left him confused. What exactly had happened?

He had heard, of course, of Mason’s death the day after he had left the Verger estate and had been questioned relentlessly by Jack, but his memory of that night at the estate was still so muddled to him. All he could remember was the attempt by Cordell to rid him of his face and the events after with some minimal degree of clarity. 

Though the drugs had made him immobile, he could still so easily see Cordell’s face looming above his. He had told Will he would be cutting his face off without anesthesia, leaving Will to feel the scrape of the scalpel against his cheek- the second time someone had tried to get in his head within forty-eight hours. Though he could feel the white-hot pain of the knife, he couldn’t move or speak and was left staring helplessly at the ceiling. 

“It’s rather rude of you to relieve Will of his face without his express consent, wouldn’t you agree, Cordell?” came a voice out of the shadows. Cordell paused and glanced up with a menacing look. 

“Dr. Lecter. Who let you out of your pigsty?” 

“Ah, only myself of course. Now, I would appreciate it if you were to take a step back from Mr. Graham here and leave his face to my care alone.” Cordell smirked. 

“Yes, I’m quite sure you’d love to take plenty of care with this pretty face of his. Seems like you already marked his face as your own” Cordell gestured to the gash on Will’s forehead left by Hannibal’s bonesaw. “Trying to make a claim on him for all the world to see, hmm?” 

Hannibal said nothing, not denying it, and took several steps closer, into the light and into Will’s line of vision. He was covered head to toe in blood, and it dripped to the floor like thick black tears. He looked like a vision of pure savagery; he delighted in his wickedness. 

Will locked eyes with him and he swore he saw something flicker in the depths of Hannibal’s eyes. Hannibal seemed to radiate such a calm, reassuring energy that, in that moment, Will knew he would be safe. Hannibal would save him. 

Hannibal had injected Will with a mild sedative he had found near the operating table, no doubt wishing to let Will sleep off the effects of the immobilizing drug. Will slipped in and out of an uneasy sleep, complete with partial visions of Hannibal doing some very questionable activities with Mason and a cattle prod, in addition to seeing an uneasy handoff of something between Hannibal and Margot. Mason had been returned to Margot’s care and Hannibal had turned to Will. 

Will remembered trying to push himself up, but his arm only twitched slightly before stilling again. Hannibal’s lips curled softly and he leaned forward and scooped Will into his arms. The strength in Hannibal’s arms brought an inexplicable sense of ease to Will and he slipped back into unconsciousness. He had been only partially aware but too exhausted to protest as Hannibal trudged back to Will’s house in the snow, carrying him bridal style. He couldn’t manage a protest as Hannibal laid him in his own bed back in his house, and made no move to stop him as he stripped Will of his bloodied clothes and back into his signature flannel. Though mobility had begun to return slowly, he found he did not push Hannibal away as he held the back of his neck as he laid him gently back on his pillow and folded the blankets around him. He didn’t open his eyes as he felt Hannibal run a hand soothingly through his hair and a thumb lightly over the gash on his forehead. Just this once, he allowed himself to relax under Hannibal’s affections. He attributed it to the weariness of the drugs. 

Will felt his face flare with embarrassment as he remembered the softness of Hannibal’s hand on his face and how entirely good it had felt to have his hand in his hair. Shaking his head in disgust at himself for finding comfort in that , he turned his attention to the other fact that his memory had brought to the forefront of his mind. Hannibal definitely hadn’t killed Mason . He had returned him, very much alive, to Alana and Margot. 

Will opened Mason’s box and found a letter written in Hannibal’s elegant script towards the top. The letter was brief, but described in great detail how much pleasure Hannibal had felt in killing Mason. Will frowned as he read through the letter once more. It was uncharacteristically boastful. Not that Hannibal wasn’t arrogant, the pretentious asshole , but he would never stoop so low to boast of a kill in a letter. No. Will knew in that moment that a deal had been struck. Alana and Margot, it seemed, had made yet another deal with the devil. No wonder they’re protecting him. Margot’s freedom from Mason’s murder depends on Hannibal’s conviction. Alana’s life depends on him being locked away. Having him sentenced to a hospital for the criminally insane would ensure Alana’s safety while also ensuring that Mason’s murder wouldn’t be traced back to them as Hannibal took the fall for it proudly. They owed him, and thus would fight for his life. They would call upon Will to defend Hannibal, to paint him as insane. Jack would rope Will in too, to condemn Hannibal as a monster- and a sane one at that. Once again, Will would be caught in a virtual tug-of-war between Jack and Alana, each trying to use Will for their own benefit. 

He buried his head in his hands. He felt unsteady. Unstable . The combination of rage, fear, regret, and longing warring for primacy in his chest left him dizzy. He hated Hannibal for inspiring a sense of loyalty in his heart. He resented Hannibal for the fact he had found comfort under his fingertips. And he loathed him for what he had done to the seventeen- eighteen - people in these boxes around Will’s living room. 

Hannibal stood in the middle of Will’s living room, eyes as piercing a blue as the dead Garett Jacob Hobbs’. The boxes around Will’s living room slowly transformed before his eyes and took the shape of each of Hannibal’s victims that had seconds before been mere concepts on paper. Bloodied bodies, cracked at odd angles with unseeing eyes pointed in all directions, gathered in a sort of pile around Hannibal’s feet. He saw Beverely, her face pale and her eyes clouded. He saw a blood-soaked Abigail lying oddly peacefully at Hannibal’s feet, her face relaxed and expressionless. Hannibal stood tall amidst the bodies, his own fine suit slick with blood. Though his eyes retained the clouded blue that he shared with the dead, his eyes still somehow shone with life. Will’s chest filled with a sense of appreciation. Of elation. 

Hannibal was elevated amongst his creation. The bodies beneath him created a throne for him; he was Death himself. Will couldn’t help but think it was beautiful. 

“See?...See?” Hannibal breathed, his voice drawing Will in. And Will saw. 

Will saw. Will knew that he saw. He hated Hannibal for drawing that out of him. He hated himself for truly feeling it, seeing the beauty. His blood boiled with bloodlust for Hannibal; and yet his blood chilled with the thought of his hands brushing against his face once again. He hated Hannibal, yes, but he hated himself most of all. 

His hand hesitated, stopping him from pouring the whiskey into the glass waiting below it. Fuck it . He ditched the glass and slumped into the chair- the chair where Hannibal had once sat by Will’s side on the night- with the bottle of whiskey and swallowed a mouthful, relishing the burn that it left in its wake. 

An irresponsible amount of whiskey later found Will groggy and disoriented. His chest ached for him . He drank more whiskey to burn the feeling away but it was only like adding fuel to a fire; with each shot of whiskey, the flames of his desire grew higher. His desire to hunt Hannibal, his desire to hold Hannibal. The latter reinforced the first and Will grabbed at a blanket angrily and curled deeper into the chair. His sleep did nothing to ease the ache in his chest.

Chapter Text

The next morning found Will roused from a deep sleep by a loud banging on the door, just as had happened last week. Jack. Will tried to stand but was immediately hit by one of the most intense hangovers of his life. He finally managed to pull himself up from the chair by his bedside and walked towards the door, throwing it open in irritation. Jack took one look at him and shoved the door open angrily before shouldering himself into the house. Since it was still barely 6am, it was still fairly dark outside so Jack flipped on several lamps in Will’s living room before turning to look at him and cross his arms menacingly. Will simply raised one eyebrow at him, eyes squinting in the low light. 

“Go,” he growled out, pointing down the hall to Will’s bathroom. Will went. 

Once in the car, Will settled into Jack’s passenger seat with the hopes of using some of the time to sleep off the remnants of his hangover. However, not twenty minutes into the drive, Jack felt the need to lay into him again. 

“Will, I know it’s not my place, but maybe you should get some help. Some real help. For alcoholics.” He cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable but trying his best to appear supportive. Will couldn’t make himself care. Jack would shatter if he had to deal with half of the feelings Will was trying to bear right now. 

“You know what, you’re right, Jack. It isn’t your place.” 

“Apparently alcohol makes you rude, too.” 

“Everything makes me rude” Will mumbled. Jack quite literally could not stop himself from saying the next words that flew from his mouth. 

“I’m surprised you went as long as you did before that crazy son of a bitch tried to eat you for ‘being rude.’” Jack’s mortification at his own statement largely outweighed the shock Will himself had felt. Before Will knew it, he was laughing. Actually laughing. For what must have been the first time in months, ever since the night. Will shook his head as his laughing took on a more hysterical quality, which made Jack start laughing nervously at first before he too was chuckling. 

“I’m surprised I made it that long too, honestly. I was so rude to him the first day we met. I was defensive and angry, and he only smiled at me, as if I was the most interesting person he had met in years.” Jack’s smile dropped at that. 

“I believe, in many ways, you were.” The silence stretched on for a few minutes before Jack couldn’t hold himself back anymore. For as much as he liked to pretend he was too tough to care, he did care deeply about Will. 

“Look, Will, I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but I would want you to hear this from me on the off chance something comes up in the trial.” He paused, unsure of how to continue. 

“Just tell me, Jack. I’m equally sure I rather hear it now than watch a room full of eyes turn to me in the courtroom as I hear it for the first time.” Jack nodded before shifting uncomfortably. 

“In Italy, when we found Bedelia, you had left while we were talking to find Hannibal. She had just shot her arm full of drugs and I guess the tiny sliver of heart that she does have in there felt compelled to tell me that you were in danger. Or maybe she was just curious what would happen, I honestly don’t know.” Will turned his face slightly at that; showing any sign of compassion was quite uncharacteristic of Bedelia so he would assume the latter.

“She told me that Lecter planned to eat you. I believe she thought it was quite obvious he would do so, kept mentioning something about his sister, but I knew I had to try to find you before Hannibal could get to you. What has bothered me though, Will, is what she told me when I asked why the hell Hannibal would want to eat you when you had just traveled the world to find him. She told me that Lecter planned to eat you because…. well, she said it was because he loved you.” Will blinked once slowly and then several more times. He seemed incapable of forming a thought and felt as if his mind had simply ceased its functioning. After several moments of strained thought, he let out a short, bitter laugh. 

“Will? Look, I didn’t want to tell you because I can’t imagine how awful it is to hear that someone like him-”

“People don’t try to eat the people they love.” That’s not true. He ate Mischa, and he loved her more than he had ever loved anyone . 

“People don’t eat people,” Jack offered back, causing Will to scoff. 

“Fine. Then people don’t kill the people they love. That’s not love,” Will said with such a bite that Jack couldn’t help the small flinch that came from his words. Will noticed Jack’s hands tightening their grip on the steering wheel. 

“What, Jack, are you gonna tell me you actually disagree with that? After all the shit you see in this job-” 

“Stop, Will.” Jack had said it so quietly that Will almost didn’t even hear him. Such behavior from Jack was usually indicative of something serious so Will simply sat in silence, sure that Jack would tell him what was happening with him when he was ready. The silence dragged on and Will had almost forgotten he had even been waiting on Jack to speak when his voice reached Will’s ears softly once again. 

“I killed Bella. I killed my wife. I loved my wife, more than I have ever loved anything, and I killed her.” Jack let out a shaky breath and his hands looked like they hadn’t loosened their grip on the steering wheel by even the slightest degree in the past twenty minutes. Will wasn’t often shocked by other people’s admissions, but he had to admit he had not seen this one coming. 

“That’s different, Jack. You did what you did because you loved her.” 

“Maybe that’s what Hannibal thought he was doing, too.” Will didn’t have a response for that so he turned his head and focused on the woods flying past them in the car. The sun stretched its warmth across the world around them and Will tried to ignore the twisted warmth blossoming in his own chest. 

***

Once inside the courtroom, Alana was quick to whisk Will away from Jack’s side and steer him towards where she and Margot were sitting behind the defendant’s bench. 

“No longer trying to hide the fact you’re rooting for Hannibal?” Will asked her, his eyebrow raised at her in disbelief. 

“Well, it’s bound to come out soon enough anyway, isn’t it? I’m scheduled to testify as soon as they run through the evidence for each of the murder counts, which shouldn’t be more than a week at best.” Alana shrugged and took her seat next to Margot, indicating the seat on her other side for Will. He shifted from foot to foot nervously. 

“I don’t know that I should be here either. I’m trying my hand at self-preservation for once in my life and I’d prefer to stay out of this bullshit between you and Jack.” Alana frowned at that. 

“This isn’t about me and Jack. It’s about Hannibal, and whether or not he dies at the hand of the state like a common criminal. Now take your seat and get over yourself. We’re about to start.” Will was slightly taken aback by Alana’s tone but supposed he was just not yet used to her newfound straightforwardness. Will smoothed his hair back nervously but met Jack’s challenging eye head-on as he took the seat next to Alana and folded his hands in his lap. 

The door off to the side of the courtroom swung open and Will heard Hannibal’s chains before he even laid eyes on him. Just as he had the first day, he walked in the courtroom with such an air of professionalism, with elegance, and with such a relaxed demeanor that it somehow managed to soothe the frayed edges of Will’s own nerves. 

Hannibal was dressed in a dark grey plaid suit, complete with his characteristic waistcoat and a rich blue tie. His handcuffs, rather than betraying him for the criminal he was, only looked like two thin sterling silver bracelets on his wrists, and he wore them as if he had just received them as a most generous gift. 

As he neared the defendant’s bench, Hannibal’s eyes locked on Will’s face, and his expression visibly softened, his eyes slackening just slightly and taking on a reflective quality. Will’s face warmed under Hannibal’s intense gaze, but he likewise couldn’t tear his eyes from his. Hannibal looked like a man who had been parched, and was drinking thirstily off the sight of Will alone. It was intoxicating. It was intoxicating until it became infuriating. How dare he? How dare he find such comfort in my presence when his own causes me nothing but anguish? 

And with this thought, Will was suddenly overwhelmed with the memories of his weekend- a weekend he had spent mentally buried in Hannibal’s crimes, blood dripping from his own hands just as much as it had from Hannibal’s. The image of the countless bodies strewn mercilessly at Hannibal’s feet- the figures of Abigail and Beverly especially- reignited the fury that lay deep within Will’s bones. He could feel the burn start in the middle of his chest and engulf the rest of him rapidly. The abrupt shift in emotion must have shown on his face, for a slight narrowing of Hannibal’s eyes betrayed his recognition of the shift. He tilted his head to the side ever so slightly, but his eyes remained fixed on Will’s, even as Will finally forced himself to look away from him and face the judge stubbornly. 

When Hannibal had been secured to the desk, the judge walked in and began the proceedings for the day. Today would be the second day that the prosecution was presenting evidence for Hannibal’s slaughter of Olmstead, Jeremy before beginning with evidence from the case of Boyle, Cassie . 

The prosecutor- a Stephanie Ramirez- projected images of Jeremy onto a screen off to the left side of the courtroom. Her heels clicked as she paced back and forth in front of the screen, dramatically recounting how Hannibal had ruthlessly driven the countless medical tools into Jeremy while he had still been alive. 

Will watched the faces of the jury members closely, trying to ascertain their opinions of Hannibal’s sanity based on the first case they had been presented. He imagined that if he were hearing of this case for the first time, without having known Hannibal, he would assume that whoever had done this was insane. 

When Ms. Ramirez arrived at the conclusion of the case, she described how Hannibal had taken Jeremy’s liver and thymus, prepared them in his own kitchen, and then proceeded to feed the organs to unwitting guests at a dinner party he had hosted. Will observed the jury members digest this piece of information with only detached interest. He had long gotten over his own aversion to cannibalism, having found it surprisingly easy to rationalize, as he had done in the case of Randall Tier. Even outside of Randall, Will had faced only minimal initial shock but had found himself drawn to Hannibal’s table nonetheless. He absentmindedly wondered if Hannibal would still be willing to cook a meal for him with all the care he once had. He would offer you his own heart on a platter, if you would accept it. He already offered you his broken heart once before, and you rejected it. But look, even now, he offers. Will tried to ignore the voice in his head reminding him of Hannibal’s care for him, but he found himself glancing at Hannibal anyway. 

Hannibal could not turn and look at him, so Will simply stared at the back of his perfectly groomed hair. Without being able to see his face radiating confidence, Will could see Hannibal’s situation more clearly. He seemed smaller, as if he had lost probably fifteen or twenty pounds in the six months or so he’d be in prison. Not quite enough to look sickly, but enough to know he likely hadn’t been eating well at all. Though Hannibal’s posture was perfectly styled to exude a sense of authenticity to the courtroom, Will could read into the tension in Hannibal’s shoulders, could see the slightest tightening in his jaw. Hannibal moved to sit back in his chair a little, causing his chained handcuffs to slide back against the table with him. The sound sent a jolt through Will, and it was as if he was truly seeing the position that Hannibal was in for the first time. He had given up everything that night he had knelt in Will’s driveway, risking the death penalty just so Will would know where he could always find him. 

This knowledge only brought the now familiar conflicting sense of emotions. For one, Will’s heart ached to see Hannibal caged like an animal; he tried to stamp out a sudden longing to wrap Hannibal in a blanket and feed him until he reached a healthy weight once again. But just as quickly, the image of Cassie Boyle’s young impaled body- which was now being projected to the jury- reminded Will of Hannibal’s sadism and cruelty, and he wanted him to pay for it. He wanted Hannibal to pay in blood. 

Will fought this torrent of emotions for the rest of the day, waves of both fury and protectiveness vying for attention, though fury was the clear winner today, just as it had been everyday since Hannibal had decided to take a saw to his head. 

He scratched at the scar on his forehead subconsciously, desperate to get home so he could sleep off the rest of his hangover. The pounding in his head hadn’t subsided much and even with coffee and some food, he still felt miserable, keeping his eyes on the floor or the back of Hannibal’s head for the majority of the day. 

The bang of the judge’s gavel as he dismissed them for the day caused Will to grimace in pain as his headache worsened. He was too busy massaging his temples with his eyes closed that he didn’t notice that Hannibal had seized the brief moment before he would be led out to turn from the defendant’s bench and face him, Alana, and Margot in the row right behind him. 

“Alana, Margot, a pleasure to see you.” Will’s head snapped up as he heard Hannibal greet the women next to him. Alana nodded at him briefly before brushing past Will to grab Hannibal’s lawyers for a quick question about her upcoming testimony. Margot exchanged pleasantries with Hannibal before moving to follow Alana, giving Will’s elbow a discrete squeeze of support as she passed. Will’s stomach tied itself in knots and he couldn’t bring himself to look at Hannibal, so he kept his eyes stubbornly downcast. 

“I was prepared to make a disparaging comment on your aftershave, but I am afraid it is not the most offensive smell on you today” Hannibal commented drily in Will’s direction. At that, Will looked up and frowned at Hannibal, but decided to not engage. He leant back in his chair and crossed one leg over the other.

“Tell me Will, what do you hope to find at the bottom of the whiskey bottle? It seems to keep eluding you, given that you expand your search to more and more bottles by the day.” A pause, and then, “Are you trying to find me?” That made the rage rise in Will again. 

“I told you I wouldn’t go looking for you.” Hannibal studied him curiously. 

“And yet you see me everywhere. No matter how hard you try to avoid it, I lurk in the shadows of your mind, yes? Perhaps you hope that the bottom of the bottle will allow you to forget me. Is that what you want, Will? To forget?” 

“I can’t forget. You made sure of that.” 

“One cannot forget what they cannot forgive.” 

“And I cannot forgive” Will said through clenched teeth. 

“Do you wish to forgive me? In the way you had planned before dear Chiyoh stopped you? Even now, do you wish to sink your knife in me, and in doing so, forgive me my existence?” Hannibal’s eyes searched Will’s with more than idle curiosity, but what exactly, Will could not name. 

“Yes” Will whispered softly, keeping his eyes locked with Hannibal’s. The corners of Hannibal’s mouth lifted every so slightly, and pride showed on his face for a mere moment before he carefully concealed his face in neutrality once again. 

Will’s own head was overflowing with images of him leaping over the banister to grab Hannibal by the back of the head and rip through his neck with his knife. He could almost feel the blood that would soak him, could just taste the coppery tang of blood on his tongue.  

“And the teacup gathers itself together again, right before my own eyes.” Will stiffened at that. 

“I made it quite clear the teacup will never gather itself back together again, Dr. Lecter.” 

“Dr. Lecter? Are we no longer on a first name basis?” 

“I’ve indicated I’m more comfortable the less personal we are.” Hannibal’s eyes flickered to the ground for a split second, the smallest indication that the jab had achieved its goal. 

“Yes. So you have indicated.” Will couldn’t help the twist in his stomach at the look of rejection on Hannibal’s face, slight as it was. It reminded him of the night Will had turned him away, when Hannibal had visibly frozen with the ice of rejection. His eyes now retained that icy quality, and Will hated the way his chest began to ache. 

And just like that, the moment ended. Hannibal was yanked away by his guards. Will couldn’t help but notice how his retreating figure looked much more like the prisoner he truly was compared to the confident man who had walked in this morning. Of course, Hannibal still carried himself with the same confidence he had that morning, but Will could have sworn the chains clanked louder this time, and the guards held him tighter. He looked like a bird whose wings had just been clipped. They were clipped. He clipped them for you. You’re the only reason he’s here right now. He’s doing it all for you. That thought burned inside of his head and he longed for Hannibal’s touch to steady him. But he couldn’t have that. You sent him away.

Chapter Text

Will stared thoughtfully into the darkness that had settled around his house. The soft light emanating from his windows made the night fog shimmer and Will was reminded of the countless nights he had spent on a dock of the Louisiana bayou, his feet dipped in the cool water as he gazed, transfixed, at the fog over the water. Fog had always fascinated Will, in an odd way. It was grey. And Will felt grey. 

He looked grey too, as he studied himself in the mirror that evening. The bags under his eyes had grown and his skin was sallow, tinging his complexion...grey. He felt like he was fading once again, perhaps becoming fog himself. If he could simply hover over water thoughtlessly, he thought he’d take that opportunity right now. 

The fog seemed to seep through the cracks in his walls and settle within the house, oozing into Will’s very bones. The air around him felt heavy and brought images of Hannibal’s retreating figure as he was pulled out of the courtroom, and back to his cage, to the forefront of Will’s mind. The sound of his swinging handcuffs seemed to echo relentlessly in Will’s ears, rising in pitch until it was just a high, metallic ringing. Will clasped his hands over his ears and tried to stop the whining- god it hurt - but to no avail. The ringing rose to a fever pitch and Will’s vision faded to black. 

Will blinked in the afternoon light with confusion before drawing himself up in bed. Rubbing his eyes, he saw Hannibal and Chiyoh talking on his porch. Scattered memories of the night before came rushing back and Will could only really remember having been sedated by Hannibal after Cordell had tried to remove his face. And then there was something else… he slowly came to remember Hannibal carrying him back to his house, placing him in bed, cleaning his wounds, stitching up his face… Will had been in and out of consciousness but the heat of Hannibal’s hands on his face was as clear a memory as any.  

Hannibal opened the screen door to come back inside and Will drew himself up to lean against the wall, pulling the covers tighter around him. Hannibal gazed neutrally at him and took a seat in the chair at his bedside, marking a spot in his notebook before closing it in his lap. 

“Do we talk about teacups and time and the rules of disorder?” Hannibal asked, his voice conjuring up pleasant memories of their first sessions together. The memory hit hard. He had been so naive, to believe that Hannibal had been his friend then. He had been in his head, even then. The thought brought the memory of Italy to his mind, and Will remembered the dulled horror he had felt as Hannibal’s saw tore into his skull. Enough. 

“The teacup is broken. It’ll never gather itself back together again.” Will spoke these words and knew that they were true. 

“Not even in your mind? Your memory palace is building. It’s full of new things. It shares some rooms with my own. I’ve discovered you there. Victorious.” The thought of sharing rooms with Hannibal in their conjoined memory palaces was thrilling yet terrifying. To be conjoined with Hannibal was to give in to the Devil. 

“When it comes to you and me, there can be no decisive victory.” Will swallowed, his heart aching. He was so tired of fighting, of fighting to end Hannibal, of fighting his own desire to meld with him. 

“We are a zero-sum game?” Hannibal asked the question with the slightest hint of surprise. Hannibal, of course, assumed that Will would see the opportunity they had to conquer the world together. He couldn’t understand that should Will join him, he’d be losing himself in the process. For Will, it was a zero-sum game. Only shades of disadvantages. 

But the surprise in Hannibal’s voice betrayed his underlying hope for them. Hope that they would run from this world together, in a mutually beneficial game. The deepest part of Will’s being longed to show Hannibal that no, they were not zero-sum. They could be so much more. He longed to reach out, take Hannibal’s hand in his, and thank him for saving him from Mason’s clutches. A whispered desire to envelop Hannibal in a soft kiss, if only to ease the tension in his lips that had formed as he processed that Will may see them as zero-sum. 

Will’s own thoughts unleashed a panic that filled Will’s chest, threatening to rip out of him. Will desperately shoved his feelings down, intent on destroying them in the fire that burned within. Will knew in that moment that if he surrendered to his desire to run away with Hannibal, he would unleash the monster within them both and they would burn the world to the ground. For Will, his own growing desire to see that vision through disgusted him. He had to put a stop to this, had to save the lives they would take if he allowed himself to blur with Hannibal. His heart threatened to shatter as his mind decided what must be done. He had to stop Hannibal from running. He had to cage him. 

“I miss my dogs. I’m not going to miss you. I’m not going to find you. I’m not going to look for you. I don’t want to know where you are or what you do. I don’t want to think about you anymore.” The words sliced his tongue and he could taste his own blood, but his voice betrayed none of this. The coldness in his voice struck Hannibal, and his face seemed to crumble imperceptibly. 

“You delight in wickedness and then berate yourself for the delight.” The words cut to Will’s core, activating his fear that he was just like Hannibal- a monster who thrived on wickedness. Will didn’t want it to be true. 

“You delight. I tolerate.” Will aimed to isolate them, to force Hannibal to see him as someone who could never truly be his equal, his partner. Hannibal seemed to register the message but would remind Will of his true self. 

“Tolerance is a fig leaf to hide your ravenous self from the world.” Will had no choice but to hide himself. 

“I don’t have your appetite. Good-bye, Hannibal.” Will forced the words from his mouth, forced himself to make eye contact with Hannibal and hold his ground. 

Hannibal stood slowly, grabbed his notebook, and walked to the door. He paused and turned, as if to reach out in a moment of rare desperation. He decided against it, and his figure fades from Will’s view. 

It takes every ounce of Will’s power to not shatter like the teacup he is. Perhaps he is already shattered. He doesn’t even know anymore. 

Will’s eyes shoot open and he finds himself huddled on the floor, slick with sweat. He sits up unsteadily and strips his shirt off, trying desperately to cool the heat that radiates off of his skin. The sheer force of the memories had sent him into a panic and he found it fitting that he now sat in the middle of his house, shaking with the force of his emotions. 

His heart was a dead weight in his chest, threatening to fall straight through his body to his feet. He couldn’t stop seeing the flashing images of Hannibal’s retreating figure- him leaving his house after being turned away by Will, him being taken away in shackles in the courtroom. He ached to stop that retrating form, to grasp his arm and stop him from leaving him again. He left because you gave him no other choice. Will reached for the whiskey. 

His lips hovered over the rim of the glass, the desire to forget and the desire to find Hannibal at the bottom of the glass competed for Will’s attention and Will knew that Hannibal had been right earlier that day. He drank to forget his own desire to find Hannibal, and Hannibal seemed to know it, to some extent. 

Will frowned down at the glass. With characteristic impulsivity, he stood and walked to the kitchen sink and poured out his glass, and then his open bottle, and then every ounce of alcohol he had in his possession. He was full of shame at Hannibal calling him out on his drinking, and he was full of disgust with himself. He had to pull himself together. 

After recycling the bottles, he closed the door on them, literally and metaphorically. He showered to remove the alcohol scent that clung to him, and scrubbed his hair of the grease that had built up from his lack of showering over the past couple of days. He washed his body idly, thinking of nothing and everything. He ran his fingertips along the scar on his stomach and the image of Hannibal reaching out to cup his cheek on that fateful night two years ago flashed before him. He could see the pain in Hannibal’s eyes then, and it was the same expression he had seen flicker for just a moment in Hannibal’s eyes earlier in court. Guilt rushed through Will, and he was filled with an intense desire to reach out and hold Hannibal. 

Just one moment , Will told himself. He would allow himself just one brief moment to truly feel how Hannibal made him feel. 

Hannibal stood in the foyer of the Norman Chapel in Palermo, Italy, his back turned to Will as he gazed at the mosaic of the saints on the ceiling. He turned when he heard Will approach, an indulging smile on his face. Will walked toward him, and this time he did not stop himself from grasping Hannibal’s forearm. Hannibal looked down at where Will held him tightly, and glanced up at his face, searching. 

Will reached up with his opposite hand to cup Hannibal’s cheek, his thumb running along his jaw. Hannibal closed his eyes briefly at the contact, before his eyes flew open and locked with Will’s. 

The scenery changed and they were in Hannibal’s office. Hannibal stood in front of his desk and Will stood off to his side, reaching for him. 

“Tell me Will, what do you want?” 

Will didn’t answer, just tried to grasp at Hannibal’s hand, which he pulled away. 

“I will not allow you to deny me in the same space that you reach for me. Tell me, what do you want?” 

“You” Will whispered. Hannibal’s gaze softened at that and he pulled Will to him harshly, his fingers tangling into his curls as he tilted his head back before bringing his lips to his. Will let out a surprised huff before kissing Hannibal back with such passion that can only come from a love too long denied. 

Hannibal deepened the kiss before pulling back abruptly. Will saw only the briefest flash of metal before the knife was buried within him and dragged across his stomach, emptying him of gouts of blood. He sank to his knees before Hannibal, covered in his own blood and raised a hand to Hannibal, as if to reach for him. Hannibal just stared down at him with detached coolness. 

“Hannibal-” Will rasped. 

“Goodbye, Will,” Hannibal said instead, before he took a step back, turned on his heel, and then Will was left staring after his retreating form once again. 

It was too much for Will, this time. He slid down the wall of the shower to sit on the floor, knees drawn up to his chest. His heart burst under the assault of a thousand knives, all shaped exactly like the one Hannibal used to penetrate him. The duality of Hannibal- his love and his cold rage- was tortuous but Will knew in that moment that this was exactly what he had done to Hannibal time and time again. Dangled his companionship and affection as bait only to pull it away at the last moment and deliver a stab of betrayal instead. I deserve it. I deserve it all. Will let out a sob of frustration. He pulled at his hair in a desperate attempt to ground himself. Tears combined with the stream of the shower, hiding the evidence of his despair as they were whisked away.

Chapter Text

Will felt regrettably clear-headed when he awoke the next morning. Having tossed out his entire alcohol supply the previous night, he had also discarded the chance to drown his feelings before passing out, drunkenly unaware of all the pain he was avoiding. Instead, he had crawled into bed uncharacteristically early, snuggled up with his dogs, and stared at the waning crescent through his window for the better part of the night. 

Waking up without a hangover was a rarity these days for Will, and in an odd way he missed the pounding headache that accompanied it. It was a pain he could endure and simultaneously use to distract himself from the heartache that had become a steady, dull presence in his chest. But something had changed for Will last night. Hannibal had gotten under his skin about the drinking and Will was now determined to hide any external evidence of how this case was affecting him, if only to spite Hannibal. Some small voice in the back of Will’s mind told him that Hannibal had been trying to help Will, in his own odd way, by pushing Will to quit drinking the only way he knew how- by treating it as a weakness he saw in Will. To Will’s dismay, the strategy ( if that’s what Hannibal had been doing) had worked, and Will resolved Hannibal would see no weakness in him if he could help. I have to hold it together. He can’t know. He doesn’t deserve to know. 

With that in mind, Will pulled himself out of bed with a groan and began to dress for court. He avoided his shower like the plague this morning, desperate to forget his breakdown the night before had ever happened. He simply decided to shove those feelings away in a box in his mind and never open it, along with the many other boxes that lay in this particular overflow room in his own memory palace. 

He looked in the mirror appraisingly, straightening his grey jacket. It was a jacket he had often worn while lecturing at the FBI, though he had made sure to wear a light blue button-down shirt instead of the plaid he had typically donned in the classroom. It was slightly worn, but he wore it out of a subconscious desire for something familiar. He pulled on a navy blue tie and combed his hair back. He was still a little self-conscious about the scar on his forehead, but decided he would rather wear it and act unphased than let Hannibal see him hide it. He turned to leave but as an afterthought, added a couple drops of his “ship-on-the-bottle” aftershave to his jawline and neck (though he hadn’t shaved) just to annoy Hannibal. Take that, fucker . 

Jack was always on time. So, at exactly 6:00 am, Will heard Jack’s knock and met him at the door with two steaming travel mugs of coffee. Jack’s eyebrows rose in unrestrained surprise. 

“Yesterday I almost have to drag your ass out of bed because you’re hungover and today you greet me with coffee? What the hell is with you, Will?” 

“I attended an AA meeting and changed my ways, all thanks to you.” Jack’s eyes rose impossibly higher, clearly missing Will’s sarcastic drawl. 

“Really?” 

“No.” Jack sighed in irritation at that and shook his head before leading them to the car. Once in the warmth of the car, Will felt a very rare pull to divulge unsolicited personal information to Jack. 

“I did quit drinking though, last night. It was… time.” Jack nodded slowly.

“Glad to hear it, Will. You look a hell of a lot better today than you did yesterday so I would say it’s already doing you some good.” Will snorted softly at that. A few minutes of companionable silence stretched by before Will surprised himself by offering even more information. 

“My dad was an alcoholic. We were poor as all hell, but he made sure he always had enough cash to replenish his stash of beer. I swore to myself I’d never become like him.” Will stared at the floor of the car stubbornly as he said this, silently pleading whatever deity may exist to stop Jack from making it awkward. 

“I drank for a while after Bella died.” His hand twitched on the steering wheel before he cleared his throat and spoke with a strained voice. “After I killed her, that is. I couldn’t stop the memories, the sounds of her last few breaths, the image of her lying there… let’s just say there’s no judgement coming from me after all you’ve been through.” He clamped his mouth shut and neither of them said anything for the rest of the ride to the courthouse, though for once, the silence wasn’t awkward. 

They had arrived at the courthouse about half an hour early so that Jack could discuss the case details with Agent Prurnell. Will refused to go with him, adamant that he would not be stepping into that courthouse one minute earlier than he absolutely had to, not to mention he was always less than keen to come into contact with Kade. So, instead, Will paced the edge of the parking lot, desperate to do something with all the nervous energy he had built up. The parking lot of the courthouse was connected to what appeared to be a relatively decently-sized park in which the employees of the courthouse and surrounding government facilities could take their lunch. Will walked to one of the picnic tables in said park and plopped down, sighing loudly. He twisted and untwisted a blade of grass in his fingers and pretended to be quite invested in this action when he heard someone walk up behind him. 

“May I join you?” came the voice of Dr. Chilton. If you must. Will shrugged, and Chilton took the careless gesture as permission to sit at the bench across from Will. He folded his arms on the table and stared at Will, clearly expecting him to glance up, so Will purposefully amused himself by seeing how far he could flick the blade of grass across the table, eyes downcast. 

“Oh, I do miss the days of our little conversations, don’t you Mr. Graham? You, sitting across from me, talking in circles about Hannibal, Hannibal, Hannibal .” 

“Too bad you didn’t listen. Could’ve saved you some time.” 

“Ah, but I did listen. The problem was that no one listened to me, either, you see.  And then our dear friend Dr. Lecter saw fit to frame me as the Ripper to discredit me, because he knew I was on to him, thanks to you. But that wasn’t the only reason he framed me, was it?” Chilton asked slyly. Will’s eyes shot up at that, wary of where this conversation was heading. 

“He didn’t just frame me to save his own skin, though that was undoubtedly one of his primary motivations. However, you, Mr. Graham, are central to this as well. Hannibal just couldn’t handle the separation from his little science experiment, now could he?” Chilton smirked smugly and Will desperately fought the urge to leap over the table to attack him. 

Chilton’s head slammed against the concrete under the picnic table as Will tackled him to the ground. He grimaced in pain and tried to bring his hands up to protect his face, but Will batted them out of the way as if he was simply swatting an irritating fly. Will fell to his knees to straddle Chilton, pinning his legs beneath him. Chilton looked up at him with an expression of pure terror, and Will absolutely loved it. His lip curled in satisfaction as his fist connected with Chilton’s jaw with a startling crack. The crack only served to fuel his bloodlust and Will threw his full weight behind a second punch to Chilton’s nose, causing blood to pour thickly down his face. Will’s hands quickly became soaked with blood and he gazed down at them in fascination, his breath hitching at the sight. 

A sudden shift in the air caused the hairs to stand up on Will’s arm and his head snapped up to find the source. In the middle of the field, Hannibal sat in the chair he had usually occupied during he and Will’s therapy sessions, his legs crossed. He doesn’t say anything, but simply observes with a mildly calculating glint in his eye. Will glanced back down at Chilton below him, now unconscious, and takes in the bloody creation of his own design. Will looked to Hannibal once again, but he’s disappeared and Will is left staring at an empty field. 

It is this empty field Will stares at now, trying to hold himself back from seeing his vision through and leaving Chilton split open on the ground. Even though the bastard deserves it . 

“Get to the point, Frederick,” Will says, drawing out each syllable of Chilton’s name with obvious distaste. Chilton sniffs snobbishly but ignores it all the same.

“Hannibal didn’t just frame me for himself. He framed me for you. You are, most assuredly, the only thing he is remotely capable of caring about. As such, it is of the utmost import that you at least appear to be on his side. To do otherwise would only further encourage his insufferable apathy regarding his case.” Will actually turned to look in Chilton’s eyes for once. 

“Apathy? That doesn’t sound very much like Hannibal. If he appears apathetic, it’s only because he’s playing a game with you. An elaborate game of solitaire, and we’re just his cards.” 

“If we are his cards, you, Mr. Graham, are our Ace of Hearts. Hannibal does not care about the outcome of his case, not really. He is perfectly content with winning his insanity plea, just as he is content with losing it and receiving the death penalty. He demonstrates no extra effort to bolster his plea, but doesn’t work to detract from the case either. He is truly neutral, and it will hurt his case.” Will frowned, trying to decipher whatever master plan Hannibal was concocting behind this behavior. 

“But what does this have to do with me? Why am I the “ace,” as you say?” he asked, still not understanding what he could possibly have to do with Hannibal’s outlook on his case. 

“As I said, you’re the only thing he cares about, if that’s even what you can call it. I’m… optimistic that your added support to his case will go a long way, both in possibly inspiring more proactivity on Hannibal’s part, but also in terms of garnering the jury to our side.” Ah. And there it is.

“You want me to perjure myself. For Hannibal.” Will scowled in frustration. “You would put me on that witness stand, ask me about how I felt watching someone I loved die by Hannibal’s hand, and then ask me to lie about who Hannibal is, just so you could win your case?” Chilton smugness had faded somewhat and he seemed a little more serious. 

“You would be saving his life. Isn’t your empathy worth anything?” At that, Will jumped to his feet in barely restrained anger. 

“As you people keep reminding me,” he spat, “my empathy is worth everything . And unfortunately for Hannibal, unfortunately for you since you apparently care so goddamn much, 

my empathy also works the other way around and I feel for every. single. fucking. life that he took. Beverly mattered. Abigail mattered. All the innocent lives he took mattered. And I refuse to perjure myself for the monster who would do that.” Chilton looked satisfyingly shocked so Will turned on his heel and strode towards the courthouse, desperate to get space from Chilton and his audacity. I fucking swear, one of these days he’ll pay for it. 

Will paced restlessly outside the door to the courtroom, glancing at his watch every other minute, desperate to get inside and get the day over with. He was still fuming from Chilton’s pathetic attempt to convince him to lie under oath about Hannibal’s “insanity.” It wasn’t even the details of what Chilton had asked as much as it was about why he had asked. Chilton had assumed that Will’s empathy would cause him to take pity on Hannibal, to go to extremes to protect him. The thought made Will’s anger flare again, and he pulled on the locked doors to the courtroom in frustration. The fact that Chilton thought it was even a possibility that Will would lie for Hannibal, after everything he’s done… 

Will froze and his stomach clenched in a moment of pure terror. Beverly stood across the hall from him, eyes an unseeing and frosty white. She did not move and she did not speak, but she seemed to stare past the white film in her eyes and into his very soul. Will imagined that all she could see of his soul was wisps of grey floating loosely around a black and twisted center. 

He took a step towards her hesitantly, glancing up and down the hall to make sure he was alone. He came to stand within a couple feet of her and his head tilted to the side slightly as his eyes roamed over her face, frozen in death. 

“What do you see?” he asked her, his voice breaking ever so slightly. She didn’t answer at first but instead held out her hands in front of her, palms facing upwards. 

“Duality,” she said simply. She made a gesture with her left hand that seemed to indicate that he should grab it. He reached out his hand warily and rested his hand gently on top of hers. As soon as his hand made contact with the coldness of her skin, several images flashed quickly in front of his eyes.

The first image of Will covered in blood, shaking with adrenaline and with power. This Will was becoming , and he stood with such a confidence Will had never seen himself display. 

The second image startled Will and yet he could not look away. Hannibal stood next to Vision Will and pointed towards a faceless man and Vision Will nodded, making Hannibal smile. The two walked towards the faceless man in perfect synchronicity before Hannibal reached for the man first, quickly securing the man’s hands behind him, leaving his chest open and vulnerable to Vision Will. Vision Will stood before the man, gazing shrewdly at him. Then, just as quickly as Hannibal had moved, so too did Vision Will, plunging a knife into the man’s sternum and dragging it down slowly, causing the man’s intestines to spill out onto the floor below him. Hannibal gazed up at Vision Will in unconcealed adoration and the image began to shift. 

The third image was clearly the most disturbing but Will couldn’t even remind himself to be horrified by it. The image mirrored a vision Will had seen many times before- Hannibal standing bloody amongst a mangled pile of his victims. This Hannibal, however, differed from the past Hannibals of his visions in that he was not unseeing with cloudy eyes, but his eyes were instead bright and wide as they settled on the man that had just joined his side. This man was Will and was not Will; he was a Will who had become . This Will was likewise covered in blood and Will realized that several more bodies had joined the pile beneath them, growing taller and taller as the two of them were elevated ever higher. Hannibal reached out to the Will next to him with a gesture so tender that the Vision Will couldn’t help but fold into his arms, resting his head on Hannibal’s chest. Hannibal wrapped an arm around Will’s waist and Will sought his lips, and the last thing Will saw of the image was the two of them engaged in a passionate kiss amongst a bloody tableau of their own creation. 

Beverly lowered her hand from under Will’s as this last image faded from view and Will barely had enough time to process what he had seen before he was clasping her right hand and being shown a different set of images. 

The first of these images showed Will desperately fighting to save a faceless man’s life. Despite the fact that he was faceless, Will somehow knew that this was the same faceless man from the other vision. The man laid out on the ground, bleeding profusely, but Will pressed a hand firmly into the man’s wound, trying with all of his might to give life and protect it rather than take it.  

The second image almost brought Will to his knees in despair. Abigail laughed joyfully next to the Will in the vision one moment and the next moment, she stared in horror as Hannibal approached her, his face set in a neutral but commanding expression. He gestured for her to come to him but Will stepped between them, shielding Abigail with his body. This Will stood bravely before Hannibal and he paid for it. Hannibal stepped forward and sank his knife into Will’s chest this time, twisting harshly when he reached his heart, and Hannibal let his body fall with a thump as the image shifted. 

The third image showed a righteously angry Will, his face set in a hard line as he approached Hannibal, tied and shackled in a kneeling position before him. The ghosts of Hannibal’s victims rallied behind Will, Abigail and Beverly on either side of him, as he came forward to carry out justice. Will knelt on the ground in front of Hannibal and reached forward to cup either side of his face, causing Hannibal to close his eyes and lean his head back to savor the moment. Will took the opportunity then to twist quickly, snapping Hannibal’s neck in half. The image left just as quickly as it had come and Will was staring at Beverly’s clouded eyes once again. 

Will tried to speak but found that he seemed to have lost his voice. He felt like crying, laughing, and screaming all at once. But all he did was stare hopelessly at her face, saddened by the fact he couldn’t see her careless and teasing smile once again. He took several steps back from the Beverly That Was Not Beverly and ran a hand through his hair slowly before he was soon clutching the wall for support to keep from passing out. 

The intense polarization of the two sets of images Beverly had shown him left Will feeling dizzy. He saw himself so clearly in both images; both visions had been ideal versions of him, depending on which ideal he felt like prioritizing. Concepts of an ideal , he silently amended. 

Not for the first time, Will could feel himself splitting down the middle, could practically hear the rip that started at his forehead and descended through his chest and towards his navel. 

Duality , Beverly had said. Will held the epitome of conflicting desires within his chest and the knowledge of that alone was enough to send his mind reeling. Before he could descend too far down the black hole of his mind, the sound of creaking wooden doors opening brought him back to reality. 

Will was able to evade the clutches of Alana, as she appeared to be fighting rather animatedly with Chilton, and instead opted to sit somewhere in the middle of the courtroom, where he hoped to blend in with the crowd. The pull of the prosecution’s side had won out today (the image of a dead Beverly and Abigail were still very fresh in his mind), so he ended up sitting several rows behind Jack. Will was certain he had evaded everyone’s notice before the sound of two bickering voices nearing closer to him reached his ears, causing him to mentally roll his eyes in annoyance. 

“Hey, Will,” Price said a little awkwardly, but with a friendly smile nonetheless. Zeller simply nodded at Will, content to stay more distant from Will in case he was the murder husband Freddie Lounds had insinuated him to be. Will could hardly blame him, but it seemed Price thought differently. He elbowed Zeller hard in the ribs and whispered (rather loudly) that it was rude not to say hello to Will and the two of them were soon full out bickering again as they sat in the seats next to Will. 

Will tuned them out and his gaze drifted towards the defendant’s bench, which was still empty. Margot must have caught him staring because she gave him a sad smile when he realized she was watching him. He quickly glanced away and instead stared straight ahead, praying that they would get started soon. 

The prosecutor, Ms. Ramirez, was talking with Jack and they both glanced in his direction, causing him to narrow his eyes. Jack must have sensed his annoyance and after exchanging a few more words with her, made his way towards Will. 

“Ms. Ramirez thinks we should be moving on to Katz’ case by the end of the week, which means it’s almost time for you to take the witness stand. You remember what I told you you needed to do before then?” Bedelia. Shit, shit, shit. “Have you done it yet?” 

“I will.” Jack looked over Will appraisingly. 

“I’ll talk to her, let her know, but make sure you two figure it out as soon as possible. We’ll need you soon.” Will just nodded absentmindedly. His gaze had shifted now to the door that opened at the side of the courtroom to let Hannibal in. Will watched as Hannibal discreetly inhaled, his nostrils flaring only briefly before he seemed to find what he was searching for. Hannibal’s eyes snapped to him almost immediately afterwards. As Hannibal was forced towards the defendant’s bench, his eyes remained locked on Will’s and he breathed in even deeper before the corner of his lip lifted in the slightest ghost of a smile that was almost… fond. Will’s face warmed as he remembered his moment of spite earlier that morning in which he had splashed on his “ship-on-the-bottle” aftershave despite not having shaved. 

The judge began the day’s session and Ms. Ramirez dove back into the case they were currently reviewing- the death of Judge Davies. Davies had been the judge during Will’s trial that had refused to allow the new evidence that would have aided Will’s defense, ultimately prompting Hannibal to murder him and form a tableau in which the judge was blinded, and staged to be shown weighing the heart against the mind. 

Will had known, back then, that it was Hannibal who had killed the judge, almost immediately upon seeing the display. Too deep in his own lust for revenge, Will had not seen then that this was a kill Hannibal had done for Will, in protection of him. As Will listened to the details of the case again now and saw the images of the tableau- the art - Hannibal had made from the body, he could now see clearly how Hannibal had killed the judge in a rare act of anger, punishing the judge for interfering with Will’s prospects for freedom. 

Even now, this new revelation inspired both an intense wave of anger towards Hannibal over the life he had taken but also a rush of loyalty towards him, and an admiration for the art he had made on Will’s behalf. 

The judge’s tableau had been poetic, surely, but Will felt it was even more poetic and reflective of how he felt right now. He felt, as the judge had been, blinded and unable to see the situation at hand clearly. His mind engaged in a ceaseless war with his heart, and though he tried to weigh them against each other, he still ultimately could not see which way the scales tipped.

He couldn’t help but wonder whether his mind or his heart would win in the end. 

Chapter Text

The next few days were much like all of the others; Will woke early, made subpar coffee, and tried his best to survive the day in court without either killing Hannibal or leaping to his defense. The last details tying Hannibal to the murder of Judge Davies were being presented, which also meant that Beverly’s case would soon begin. And because Will would be called upon to testify, he had to actually follow through on his court-ordered psych evaluation with Bedelia. Fuck my life . 

Because he and Bedelia both were attending court everyday, they had agreed to meet in a spare room loaned out to them by the courthouse during the lunch hour on Thursday. It was outside this spare room that Will now stood, absentmindedly wondering how Hannibal would eat Bedelia if he chose to. He’d probably roast her leg and eat it in front of her. He’d delight in the wickedness of it. 

A jangling of keys roused Will from his musings and alerted him to the approach of a janitorial staff member, with Bedelia following close behind. The janitor unlocked the spare room for them and cast an odd look between them, as if he had picked up on the animosity that already hung thick between them. As the janitor shuffled off, Bedelia walked into the room ahead of Will and took a seat at the long wooden table that lay in the center of the room. The room, with its windowless white walls, stale air, and hard-looking chairs, was clearly designed for what Will assumed were equally unpleasant tasks as what he was about to endure, such as tax evasion depositions or lawsuits regarding interstate commerce. He took the seat across the table from Bedelia- they were really hard chairs- and stared at her blankly. Bedelia, however, was hardly phased by the rudeness that emanated from him. 

“Hello, Will,” she drawled slowly, a falsely polite smile flitting across her face. 

“Bedelia,” he answered, distaste rolling off of him in waves. 

“I hear that you have come to rely on the consumption of alcohol for the repression of your feelings about Hannibal’s incarceration.” Straight to it, then.

“To ‘rely’ on something implies one has full confidence in it; I do not have any confidence in the ability of alcohol to do anything as remotely helpful as repression.” 

“By stating that repression would be helpful, you exhume the skeletons of the treacherous thoughts you have slain in your restless nights.” Her eyes drifted across his face, coldly calculating. 

  “You miss him, as one misses their cancerous organ after it has been removed. Have you been to see him?” The question hit Will like a swift kick to the ribs. He nearly doubled over with the force of the guilt and hatred that rose within him. Does that mean she’s been to see him? 

“No.” Bedelia smirked a little at that, unable- or unwilling - to hide the satisfaction she drew from his answer. 

“Have you been to see him?” Will couldn’t help the insecurity that wove its way into the question, causing his voice to falter slightly at the end. If Bedelia noticed, she miraculously decided to refrain from commenting on it. 

“I’ve seen enough of Hannibal. Though he still sends greeting cards, accompanied by recipes, naturally.” 

“If he does end up eating you, Bedelia, you’d have it coming.” Bedelia just stared blankly back at Will before shrugging slightly. 

“I can’t blame him for doing what evolution has equipped him to do.” Bullshit.

“If we just do whatever we were equipped to do, murder and cannibalism are morally acceptable.” 

“They are acceptable. To murderers and cannibals. And you.” Will’s face showed nothing of the discomfort Bedelia’s comment caused him, yet even his affinity for denial couldn’t save him from his mind acknowledging there was some truth to her statement. That acknowledgement, however, only encouraged him to strike out at her. 

“And you. You were with him behind the veil , as you are prone to claiming. You’re the bride of Frankenstien.” Will expected his comment to at least bother her but she only seemed to be encouraged by it. 

“We’ve both been his bride,” she said, smirking slightly, and Will couldn’t help the slight heat that rose in his cheeks. 

“I am not his bride ,” he ground out, frustration getting the better of him. 

“No, you aren’t, are you? But if Hannibal had his way, he would have had his… consummation … of your relationship some time ago.” This time Will knows for a fact that his face has reddened enough for it to be noticeable, but he does his best to maintain his composure, if only to annoy Bedelia. 

“However, unfortunately for Hannibal, he does not seem to see how entirely inadequate a bride you would be. Any consummation between the two of you would only leave him entirely disappointed; he would devour you as divine retribution.” She sniffed slightly as she said it, not bothering to disguise her disdain. Despite how embarrassing her analogies were, Will pressed on in an effort to appease the curiosity that had awoken when she had implied he’d be an unsuitable partner to Hannibal.

“You’re not convinced I’m a killer?” he asked, his head cocked to the side. 

“You’re not a killer. You’re capable of righteous violence because you are compassionate.” 

“Am I?” 

“You’re walking down the street and see a wounded bird; what’s your first thought?” Will crossed one leg over the other and thought briefly, trying to feel for the trap before just answering honestly. 

“It’s vulnerable, and I want to help it.” 

“My first thought is also that it’s vulnerable. Yet I want to crush it. A primal rejection of weakness, just as natural as the nurturing instinct. The next time your instinct is to help Hannibal, you should really consider crushing him instead.” 

“I’ll keep it in mind.” Silence fell between the two of them, and Will searched her appraisingly. He couldn’t help the curiosity, and perhaps jealousy, he felt when he thought back to how he had found Hannibal and Bedelia playing house in Italy. He couldn’t stop himself from further expressing his distaste for her. 

“And as for you, Bedelia, you don’t seem to be too terribly concerned with the outcome of Hannibal’s trial. Would Mrs. Fell really leave her husband alone, subject to the whims of a jury functionally incapable of perceiving his being?” Bedelia leaned back in her chair, picking distractedly at a piece of lint on her dress in effort to appear nonchalant. 

“Lydia Fell no longer exists in this world. Perhaps she never really existed. How could Lydia Fell compare to the esteemed Will Graham?” she drew out his name as if it were physically painful for her to say. Will frowned and rubbed at the crease between his eyebrows. 

“Lydia was a… partner of sorts to her husband, no? Did this Lydia delight in wickedness, or did she just tolerate it?” 

“Lydia was an observer. She watched her husband in an effort to see the world through his eyes.” Will scoffed. 

“Lydia lied to herself in order to rationalize, and perhaps even justify, the impulses that she had fought for so long.” Will grinned in a sort of twisted way at that, pleased with the slightest crack he had begun to see in Bedelia’s facade. 

“But pooooor Bedelia,” Will drawled sarcastically, “your naivete led to you being stuck in a rather precarious position, no? Just one of Bluebeard’s wives, biding your time before he slaughters you for his own amusement.” 

“If I am to be one of Bluebeard’s wives, I would have preferred to be the last,” Bedelia snapped, looking at him pointedly. Will simply glared at her over the top of his glasses before he sighed and leaned forward over the table, pleasure flickering in his chest as he saw the faintest flinch in Bedelia’s shoulders. 

“Maybe Hannibal doesn’t see you as one of these wives you talk about; perhaps he sees you as nothing more than a bird with a clipped wing, struggling on the sidewalk. I wonder, Bedelia, how long will it be before he crushes you?” Will could detect the slight change in Bedelia's face, indicating her residual fear. The knowledge excited him, and his body thrummed with the heady power of his threat. Her expression turned to one of disgust. 

“Perhaps you two deserve each other after all. You’ve long passed the point of no return. He’s going to devour you, Mr. Graham.” With that, she made an agonizingly slow show of placing paperwork on the table, brandishing her pen like a sword. 

“This paper, now complete with my signature, will indicate to Judge Honesworth that you are of sound mind and able to participate as a witness in Hannibal’s case.” She slid the paper across the table to Will, who flipped briefly through the document before offering a curt nod. 

“I was under the impression I would be subjected to endure two sessions with you before receiving your signature” Will stated, eyes still fixed on the paperwork in order to avoid Bedelia’s stare. 

“As aforementioned, you have long since passed the point where I could be of any help to you,” she said as she leaned forward, her eyes flickering with disdain. “Not to mention I likewise have no desire to conduct sessions with you; you are an insufferable patient and I will not subject myself to watch Hannibal’s conquering of your mind, body, and soul as you ignore warnings from everyone in your immediate circle. When the time comes, your blood will be on your own hands, no one else’s, not even Hannibal’s. You have allowed yourself to be seduced by him and I rather abhor the idea of watching the world burn under any partnership you may pursue with Hannibal.” She slid her pen back into her bag and stood, smoothing the red skirt that brought images of blood to Will’s mind. She offered a fake, cold smile to Will as she bid him farewell and stalked out of the room with her head held high. The click of her heels as she walked further down the hall was the only sound Will could hear, and the sound reverberated in his head. 

Will glanced down at the paperwork once again. She had rubber-stamped him, just as Hannibal had when Jack first sent Will to him. Hannibal had meant it as a gesture of trust and goodwill but Bedelia simply couldn’t be bothered. Will growled in frustration and drummed his fingers idly on the sleek mahogany desk. He sighed and pushed himself to his feet and began to make his way down the hall. He finally reached the courtroom and slipped inside, choosing a seat hidden in a back corner. 

The courtroom from this angle provided Will with a level of detachment he hadn’t previously felt. He felt as if he was looking into the courtroom from a window, at a case in which he hadn’t known the defendant, or anyone else. Will found himself basking in the feeling, longing for separation from the disaster that his life had become. 

As the day drew to an end, the prosecution closed the case on the murder of Judge Davies. Will looked up at the projected image of Judge Davies’ tableau and frowned. This had been an act of retribution from Hannibal. Hannibal had acted in anger, punishing the Judge for denying Will a line of defense that could have saved him. Will struggled against his desire to openly appreciate the beauty in the tableau that Hannibal had organized in honor of Will. With his eyes running over the heart and brain on the scales that Judge Davies was holding, Will could literally feel the anger Hannibal had felt, and he gripped the edge of the chair he was sitting in in an effort to remain in control. Not only was he overwhelmed with rage, he was uncomfortably aware of underlying fondness and loyalty that the tableau inspired within him. He couldn’t make himself hate Hannibal for the tableau, as it had been constructed in honor of Will himself. He hated himself for not hating it. 

Judge Honesworth banged his gavel twice on the podium and the session came to an end. Will jumped to his feet and made his way to the courtroom doors, not even bothering to glance back. In his haste, he missed Hannibal’s eyes trailing after him and the whispers that threatened to leave the courtroom with him. Will pushed open the front doors of the courthouse and gulped at the fresh air with a desperation matched only by a caged animal fighting for its life. 

*** 

As Will rummaged through his kitchen cabinets looking for remaining coffee grounds the next morning, he felt a numbness settle over his body and take over his mind. Beverly’s case would be opened today, which meant that Will would be called to the stand to testify before too long. Will was especially nervous at the prospect of facing Beverly’s family again, almost certain that the sight of them would further fuel the fire that waited in the pit of his chest under all of the numbness. 

Will banged his fist on the counter in a display of agitation as no remaining coffee grounds were discovered. With a furrowed brow he set a kettle to boil and set a slightly dusty box of tea bags next to it. He crossed his arms and stared pointlessly at his kitchen tile floor as the kettle began to boil. As it whistled, he poured it into a travel mug and added a tea bag, screwing on the lid with a bit more force than was necessary. He grabbed his coat from the hall closet and pulled it on just as he heard Jack driving up to the house, setting the dogs into a frenzy. He locked up, greeted Jack tonelessly, and proceeded to sink further into the numbness on the ride to the courthouse. 

The courtroom was much fuller than it had ever been and it seemed as if the majority of the forensics team at the FBI as well as several trainees and other various agents had gathered to watch the proceedings. Several heads whipped around as Will entered the courtroom, and the expressions varied. Some offered him looks of pity, others demonstrated anger, and the rest adopted a minimally polite smile. 

Whereas Will had normally felt two contradictory pulls when it came to deciding on which side of the courtroom to sit, he felt no such tension today. Loyalty to Beverly was a strong enough factor to see him seated at Jack’s side behind the prosecution bench. Will could feel the grief that radiated from Beverly’s parents and younger sister further along the row Will was seated at and he did his best to not let it overwhelm him. He had to keep it together. For Beverly, if nothing else.

Angry whispers erupted across the courtroom as the side door banged open and Hannibal was led in. Dressed in a black three-piece suit with a maroon paisley tie, Hannibal seemed unphased by the intensity emanating from the crowd. Will refused to meet his eye, staring instead at the witness stand that he would soon occupy. He suddenly felt very hot and began to sweat, the shell of numbness cracking and giving way to anxiety. He pulled at his tie to loosen it some and rubbed his palms across his slacks to dry them. 

Judge Honesworth initiated the session and prosecutor Ms. Ramierez wasted no time and launched into Beverly’s story, eventually reaching the story of her ending and its connection to Will. 

“Ms. Katz was a smart woman, but even more so, she was a loyal one. At the time, her colleague and friend Will Graham was imprisoned under the now confirmed false accusations of being the Chesapeake Ripper. In an effort to discover the truth of the case against Mr. Graham, she agreed to investigate other possible explanations for the evidence in the Ripper cases. While we do not know what exactly Ms. Katz found that tied James Gray’s death to Hannibal Lecter specifically, something prompted her to turn her attention to Dr. Lecter. The day after she had enlisted Dr. Lecter’s help in a secondary autopsy of James Gray, she herself was displayed in a gruesome tableau orchestrated by Dr. Lecter himself. For her loyalty to her friend and to the truth, she was murdered and cannibalized by the accused. It’s imperative that the jury consider the case of Ms. Katz in deciding Dr. Lecter’s fate.” 

The sound of Ms. Ramierez’s footsteps as she made her way back to the prosecution bench was the only sound to be heard throughout the courtroom. The whole room seemed to be holding its breath and it was soon broken by the sound of Hannibal’s lawyer, Byron Metcalfe, making his way to the center of the courtroom to deliver the standard rebuttal- that Hannibal was afflicted by insanity, that his actions were done without sound mind, etc.,... the usual bullshit . Will tuned out Mr. Metcalfe’s ramblings and instead found himself staring at the projected image of a smiling Beverly on the screen at the front of the courtroom. The longer he stared, the more Beverly’s eyes seemed to see directly into his soul, and he fought the urge to duck under the bench and hide from her gaze. 

“The prosecution now calls Mr. Will Graham to the stand,” Ms. Ramierez announced and Will’s heart sank. As if on command, sweat began to gather at his brow and his hands adopted a faint tremble. He shot a quick glance back at the projected image of Beverly and then his eyes met the gaze of Beverly’s younger sister. She too seemed to see right through him and, despite the eeriness of the feeling, he couldn’t help the wave of protectiveness that washed over him. Steeling himself, he stood and began to make his way to the witness stand. 

The whole courtroom followed him with their eyes as he made his way to the witness stand, took the oath, and then sat down. Will pushed his shoulders back and could only pray that he projected a more confident version of himself than he currently felt. Keeping a neutral expression- and against his better judgement- he risked a glance at Hannibal. 

Hannibal sat straight in his chair in a position that naturally exuded confidence. Will couldn’t help but be reminded of the many times he had watched Hannibal raptly, trying to mimic that confidence when he had first begun his attempt to “hook” Hannibal after his own release from the BSHCI. Hannibal’s hair was pristinely parted off to its usual side and his sharp cheekbones seemed to reflect the sunlight that shone through the large windows off to the side of the courtroom. Hannibal’s eyes met his and Will felt his blood run cold. He gripped the chair tightly, unsure of whether he wished it was Hannibal’s neck or hand that he was gripping. 

The click of Ms. Ramierez’s heels as she approached the stand snapped Will’s attention back to reality. He held his breath in anticipation of her first question. 

“Mr. Graham. You were friends with the victim, Ms. Katz, correct?” she began, peering at him intensely.  

“Friendship assumes reciprocity. I have sufficient doubt that Beverly Katz would have considered me a friend, given my… unsociable inclinations” Will replied, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose in an unconscious desire to hide behind them as if they were a veil. 

“That may be true, but the two of you clearly had some connection. A connection you would later use to your advantage, no?” She raised her eyebrow questioningly and Will sighed, deciding he may as well be more forthcoming. 

“Beverly was kind to me. She was aware of my own peculiarities and yet she was steadfast in her loyalty to me. She asked after my wellbeing many times and made it clear that she would be there for me, should I need it. Eventually, I felt I did need it.” 

“You asked Ms. Katz to investigate Dr. Lecter, didn’t you?” Ms. Ramierez asked. Will glanced at Hannibal again but was quick to regret it. As his eyes locked with Hannibal’s, Will felt rage take over once again. He took a steadying breath and returned his attention back to the prosecutor. 

“While I was an inmate at the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane, Beverly would come visit me and ask for my opinion on ongoing cases with which the FBI had difficulties. I asked one thing of her. I did not ask her to investigate Dr. Lecter specifically. I simply asked her to ignore the existing evidence against me and begin again, looking for any other evidence that would indicate that I had been framed or indicated that another individual was responsible for the murders of which I was accused. She found something.” Will sat back in his chair slightly, trying to ground himself before he became too visibly upset. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Jack nodding approvingly and further down the row, Price was holding back tears and Zeller was shooting glares at Hannibal. Ms. Ramierez blocked his line of sight and stared imploringly at him. 

“And what was it that Ms. Katz found?” 

“She discovered that James Gray’s kidneys were missing, indicating that, since I was incarcerated at the time, I could not possibly be the Chesapeake Ripper since he was still active. What evidence she found that explicitly connected James Gray to Dr. Lecter, I’m not certain; she died before she was able to tell anyone.” 

“And yet you maintain that Dr. Lecter is responsible for her death. Why is that?” 

“Well outside of the official forensics report that will later be verified by the FBI team, the way she was displayed after death is consistent with the Chesapeake Ripper murders, of which Dr. Lecter is responsible.” 

“Objection! Hearsay,” Hannibal’s lawyer shouted as he stood with a pointed finger. Judge Honesworth frowned briefly but then turned to Will. 

“Sustained. Mr. Graham, given your personal relationship with the defendant, any forensic analysis on your part will be inadmissible. You are only allowed to report on facts of the case and anything that you personally witnessed. Ms. Ramierez, please continue.” Will rolled his eyes internally. I fucking hate court . Ms. Ramierez turned back to Will. 

“Did Ms. Katz ever intimate to you any details regarding her suspicion of Dr. Lecter prior to her death?” 

“As I mentioned, the day that Beverly was murdered, she came to see me. She told me that she had performed a secondary autopsy on James Gray and had asked Dr. Lecter to assist, in an effort to gain any new insight on Gray’s murder, as well as whether or not Dr. Lecter was guilty. When she saw me, she told me that she had noticed that James Gray’s kidneys were missing. During that conversation, we came to the realization that the Chesapeake Ripper had killed James Gray and that Hannibal Lecter was the Chesapeake Ripper. I told Beverly to go to Jack Crawford and tell him everything, but she noted the lack of explicit connection of the missing kidneys to Dr. Lecter; she felt she needed more evidence first. I warned her that Hannibal knew and that he would be toying with her, and that she should go to Jack immediately regardless. Unfortunately, Beverly did not listen to me and went off on her own, looking for evidence, I assume. She was murdered that night and displayed for all to see by the next morning.” Will took a deep breath glanced up at the image of Beverly on the screen. The thought of her telling him to suck it up, Will offered a temporary reprieve from the overwhelming guilt he felt over her death. 

Ms. Ramierez turned to the jury and filled in any missing gaps in his story and wove together a story that almost ensured Hannibal’s conviction on its own. In going over the details of the case, however, Will noticed that Ms. Ramierez did not mention the gunshot hole in Hannibal’s floorboard. If a ballistics team were to analyze the gunshot hole, they could perhaps provide further evidence that it was shot from Beverly’s gun, placing her in Hannibal’s basement at the time of her death. They don’t know about the gunshot hole...

“Before you are released from the stand, Mr. Graham, is there any other evidence or information that we should be aware of when it comes to the case of Beverly’s Katz’s murder at the hands of Dr. Lecter?” Fuck, fuck, fuck. Will exerted an enormous amount of self-control in order to keep himself from panicking. The gunshot hole in Hannibal’s floorboards could very well be from Beverly’s gun… if that could be proven, Hannibal would be tied even more conclusively to Beverly’s murder. On the other hand, Will felt the familiar, albeit detested, pull of loyalty and protectiveness towards Hannibal. Part of him wanted to hide it, to do a small part in protecting Hannibal in one of the only ways left to him. His leg began to jostle restlessly as he debated internally. His gaze flickered to Hannibal and his heart clenched. He felt an almost instinctual pull to Hannibal’s side and he very nearly surrendered to it but a pair of dark brown eyes stopped him. 

Her eyes looked so much like Beverly’s that he almost cried out to her. It wasn’t Beverly, but her sister. Her eyes were widened in shock and were filled to the brim with tears for her lost sister. Her youthfulness naturally reminded Will of Abigail and he then felt an overwhelming desire to protect her as well, as if that could ever make up for Abigail. The wave of protectiveness was followed by renewed rage directed towards Hannibal. He glanced back to Hannibal, but he was gone. In his place, Beverly stood, one arm on her hip and the other hung loosely at her side. She said nothing and her face was carefully neutral, but Will could see an underlying hope in her eyes alongside the fire that characterized her personality. 

In that moment, Will chose her. He knew he did. He would tell them about the gunshot hole in Hannibal’s floor and do right by Beverly. 

“No,” Will answered, shaking his head slowly.

 Shock at his own answer took over and Will could feel a headache begin to form with a vengeance. Ms. Ramierez nodded slowly before dismissing him from the witness stand. Hannibal’s defense team didn’t even have any questions for him, meaning Will’s part in Beverly’s case was over. He stood slowly and walked back to his seat as if in a trance. He had been so sure he had chosen Beverly’s side, so sure that he was about to actively pin more evidence against Hannibal in retribution for her death. But once again, his loyalty to Hannibal had won out, even against his own interest. He had lied under oath for him, and denied Beverly the last shred of justice he could offer. 

Will sank back into his seat and was only vaguely aware of Jack clapping him on the shoulder in solidarity. He couldn’t bring himself to glance again at Beverly’s picture and found his eyes instead drawn to studying Hannibal’s figure. There was no trace of guilt or remorse apparent on his face, nor was he smug or arrogant. Hannibal was simply neutral, his hands clasped on the desk in front of him. Traitorous feelings rose once again in Will and he longed to envelop Hannibal in his arms and be held by him in return. 

The rest of the proceedings for the day were agonizingly slow. Just before the lunch break, Jimmy Price took the stand to describe the forensic details of how Beverly had been killed and how her death compared with that of other Ripper victims. He tearfully explained how she had been strangled, bled of all her blood, and was frozen prior to being cut into thin slices. Will listened and struggled to reconnect with the rage he had felt earlier. The numbness, or perhaps just apathy, was back and Will tried to appear normal by watching Jimmy’s testimony but was nonetheless relieved when the judge called a recess for lunch break. 

The recess found various members of the FBI gathered around a set of picnic tables in the park off to the side of the courthouse. Will was dragged over to this circle by Jack and Will immediately regretted not making more of a protest. Rage and sadness emanated from those gathered and Will’s empathy was soon overwhelmed to the point where he felt like he was suffocating. He began backing away and successfully dodged Jack’s gaze before making his way back to the courthouse. He walked past the courtroom and down an adjoining hall before he heard a faint voice murmuring soothingly. As he rounded the corner of the hall, he was greeted by the sight of Brian Zeller comforting Jimmy Price. Neither man noticed Will’s presence at the other end of the hall and despite Will knowing he should back away quietly, he couldn’t help but continue staring. 

Jimmy was crying softly and Brian was talking to him softly. As Jimmy brought up a hand to wipe at his eyes, his breath caught and his shoulders began to shake. Brian pulled Jimmy to his chest and wrapped one arm around his back and the other clasped Jimmy’s neck tightly. Jimmy leaned into the embrace and Will had a feeling that this was not something new for the two of them. Just as Will had this thought, Brian dipped his head and placed several soft kisses to Jimmy’s forehead. Will was suddenly overwhelmed with an image of Hannibal and himself in a similar position. Will felt himself longing to be held by Hannibal like Jimmy was being held by Brian. Will swallowed thickly and finally roused himself to back away from the pair and walk back towards the courtroom. He found a sufficiently isolated corner in a hallway near the courtroom that provided him with enough privacy to sit on the floor and draw his knees up to his chest and bury his head in his hands. 

Will was eventually shaken by Jack and returned with him to the courtroom. Beverly’s case continued to be discussed in incredible and agonizing detail. Brian Zeller also gave testimony, and although he didn’t show as much emotion as Jimmy had, his distress was still apparent. The earlier feelings of apathy had dissipated and Will felt as if he was now sitting in a tub slowly filling with guilt. It was as if someone had tied and weighed him down with cinder blocks, leaving him to agonize and simply wait for the guilt to drown him.    

He avoided looking at the image of Beverly as well as dodging the gaze of her sister.  He likewise couldn’t bring himself to look at Hannibal, so he kept his eyes stubbornly downcast for the majority of the afternoon. 

After the judge ended the session, the prosecution was fairly certain that they had provided enough details of the case to solidify the jury’s belief that Hannibal was not insane, but rather a vindictive individual who acted out of his own interest. The ride back to his house was quiet and Will only nodded curtly at Jack before he was crunching through the snow towards his front door. 

Will was grateful he’d have the weekend to prepare himself for Monday, when Abigail’s case would be presented before the court. In the meantime, he planned to distract himself as best as he could without the use of alcohol. He rummaged through his barn before he finally found the old boat motor he had been looking for. He hefted it over his shoulder and carried it inside before depositing it in the middle of his living room. At least this was something he could fix. 

Will changed into some older work clothes and settled down next to the motor. He pushed away the dogs nosing at him and poured his entire attention into fixing the motor. He could feel the guilt of choosing Hannibal over Beverly quietly gnawing at the back of his head and he screwed his eyes shut, wishing to dispel it. He couldn’t stop thinking about Hannibal holding him the way he had seen Brian holding Jimmy. He longed to feel Hannibal’s hand at the back of his neck, steadying him. A tear or two escaped his eyes and he brushed them angrily before turning his attention even more decidedly to the motor in front of him. 

Chapter Text

Will threw down the wrench in his hand and it skidded across the floor, scuffing up the wooden floorboards. He let out a frustrated sigh and turned away from the boat motor he had been working on. He stood up, stretched his limbs and glanced at his watch. He’d been at this for hours and he was no closer to repairing the motor than he had been after he’d gotten home from the courthouse yesterday afternoon. 

It was about ten in the morning and the sun shone brightly through the wide windows at the sides of his house. Winston lay basking in a particularly warm spot under one of the windows and Will couldn’t help but smile to himself as he made his way over to give Winston a good belly rub. 

Will looked out the window and across his property, taking in the sight of the sun slowly melting the ice that had built up overnight. As Will weighed the pros and cons of going to the stream at the back of the property in order to fish, his phone began to ring. He ignored it, per usual. However, the phone began ringing again not a full minute later so Will groaned as he searched for his phone. He found it buried under a book about the theoretical use of fruit flies to determine time of death that he’d been reading the night before. He frowned in confusion as he read Jimmy Price on the caller ID. 

“Hello?” Will asked, the question apparent in his tone. 

“Hi Will! Listen, uh, I have something to ask you but I don’t think you’re quite going to like it, I mean really if I had the choice-”

“Just tell him, god!” came a second voice through the phone, which Will quickly deduced to be the voice of Brian Zeller. 

“Oh fine, alright,” Price said with reluctance. “Listen, Will. Ever since Beverly died, Z and I have been helping out her family…at first it was with simple funeral arrangements, then Z started cooking for them once in a while, and well, eventually it turned into more of a friendship with the family.” Price paused, as if waiting for Will to comment. Sensing a growing awkwardness, Will tried to remember how to be properly social. 

“Oh, um, that’s…nice,” he said, feeling slightly uncomfortable, especially as he heard Z whisper (quite loudly) that Price was freaking Will out and that Price should let Z do the talking, to which Price scoffed. There was a brief scuffling sound and Will had the feeling they were quite literally fighting over the phone. Then, the noise stopped just as abruptly. 

“What Jimmy has been trying, and failing, to say is that we are somewhat close to the Katz family and they want to host a dinner for the team, as a thank-you for defending her in court. We were told to invite you,” Z said. 

Will’s blood turned to ice and he had a sudden urge to vomit, as if he was trying to literally expel the guilt that had claimed his body. Will hadn’t been able to shut his eyes without seeing accusatory glances from Beverly and the thought of sitting down with her family after he had withheld evidence to protect her killer… it was too ugly a thought. 

“Yeah, uh, I don’t think I’ll be able to make it. I’ve got.... something-” he began, realizing they hadn’t told him when the dinner would be taking place. He cursed at himself internally. 

“Sorry, Will, I’m afraid there’s really no getting out of this one. They’re quite insistent. And Jack’s been invited too, and you know he’ll make you go. It’s tomorrow night. See you there, Will,” Z said brightly, unphased by Will’s pushback. 

“Bye, Will!” he heard Price shout into the phone and Will grimaced from the sheer volume of it before he hung up. Fuck.  

A half hour later saw Will still staring out one of the windows, lamenting his fate. His phone buzzed again and the caller ID confirmed what Z had suggested- Jack was calling. 

“Jack.”

“Will! I’m under the impression you gave Z and Jimmy some pushback about coming to the Katz’ tomorrow night. But I’m afraid Z is right. You’re not getting out of this one. I’ll pick you up my damn self if I have to. But I’m hoping you’ll come of your own volition. We owe it to Beverly, we really do, Will. So. Do I have to haul your ass over or are you going to get over yourself and come over on your own?” Jack’s words had a bite to them that confirmed he truly was not messing around. Will sighed, anxiety sitting heavy in his chest. 

“Fine. I’ll come. You don’t need to come get me.” 

“You’re a good man, Will. See you tomorrow night at 7. I’ll text you the address.” Jack hung up, his tone considerably lighter than it had been when he’d first called. 

Will made a strong pot of coffee- he had finally given up instant coffee and replenished his store of actual coffee grounds- and took his steaming mug with him to sit on his porch. He sipped it while he watched his dogs bound through the snow, playing joyfully. Winston, however, remained sitting at Will’s feet, as if he could feel Will’s anxiety and wished to comfort him. Will was quietly grateful and ran his fingers through Winston’s coat to calm himself down. 

Will had returned from the courthouse the previous afternoon and poured all of his anger, resentment, and guilt into trying to repair an old motor that had little prospect of working again anyway. He hadn’t slept at all and was full of despair. He had been so sure he was finally going to be loyal to someone other than Hannibal, that he could do this for Beverly. But the knowledge he had protected Hannibal so naturally haunted him. He was angry at Hannibal and he was angry with himself. His head ached from all of the energy he had spent trying to understand why he had betrayed Hannibal for Beverly. On some level, probably somewhere cave-like and dark and deep within him, he knew why he’d chosen Hannibal. But denial and ignorance were much more comfortable so Will remained in confusion, questioning his own actions and hating himself for it. 

He felt a strong desire to drive to the nearest liquor store and sink into oblivion. But he knew if he drank this time, he wasn’t so sure he’d be able to stop. With that thought, he grabbed the wrench he’d discarded earlier and resumed his work on the motor with a stubborn insistence. 

Sunday evening came much too soon for Will’s liking. He stood before his bathroom mirror, avoiding his own eyes as he buttoned his dark green collared shirt. He smoothed back his hair and his eyes caught his own. Will thought his eyes looked dead. He’d always said that serial killers and psychopaths have dead eyes and he was dismayed but not surprised to find he looked the same right now. He swallowed nervously, as if trying to choke down his problematic feelings too. 

Beverly’s parents lived in Alexandria, Virginia and their house was about half an hour from Will’s. The drive was quiet yet Will kept anxiously scanning the streets, looking for an issue, as he tried to distract himself from his own mounting anxiety. 

Before long, Will pulled up to a modest yet attractive two-story white house with a large yard. It reminded Will of something he would buy if he were ever to have kids; he could imagine the house being quite adequate for a family. However, as quick as the thought came, it vanished. Will could never have a family house- he would never have a family. Will Graham, Ruiner of Families , he couldn’t help but think. He’d destroyed the Katz family and he knew the concept of family was something he could never connect with, for the good of everyone. 

He parked behind Jack’s car, put on his glasses, and stepped out of the car, only to step into the bright light of headlights. He squinted and quickly moved out of the way as Z pulled up beside him. Jimmy hopped out of the passenger seat and walked up to Will. 

“Hey, Will. Glad you made it. Jack was already planning your murder in case you didn’t show,” Jimmy said, smiling at him. Will made an effort to smile back but he knew the smile couldn’t possibly reach his eyes. 

“Hello, Will,” Z said as he stepped out of the car. He gave a tight-lipped smile and Will didn’t need his empathy to tell him that Z was still quite wary of Will and unconvinced of his innocence. Fair enough . 

“Let’s head in, yeah?” Z said as Jimmy walked back towards him. Z slipped an arm around his waist and guided them both inside and Will walked a couple feet behind them, wishing the dimness of the late evening would simply absorb him. 

Z knocked on the front door of the house and it opened a split second later to show Beverly’s mom, who gave a small smile as she pointed them inside. As he passed her, Will gave her the flowers he’d picked up from the store on the way in. She smiled a bit wider at that and turned to the kitchen in search of a vase. 

As Will shed his coat, a large hand clapped him on the shoulder. Jack. 

“Hey, Jack” Will said, willing himself to appear normal but failing miserably as his tone fell flat. 

“Hey, Will. Glad you could make it,” Jack said and Will could feel the beginnings of a lecture coming but was saved as Mr. Katz walked into the room and greeted them all. 

“Thank you so much, all of you, for making your way out here. My wife and I and our daughter really appreciate it. Beverly was so proud to work with all of you that we thought it would be most appropriate to thank you in person and offer you what we could- which tonight is a home-cooked meal. We’re aware of how rare it is to have home-cooked meals with jobs like yours.” Unless you’re Hannibal, or dine regularly with him. He’d always insist on cooking for me as often as possible. He couldn’t help the wave of sadness that engulfed him as he remembered the intense- and intimate - meals they’d shared together. 

“This is my daughter, Caroline,” said Mr. Katz as Caroline walked into the room. She offered a shy smile to Will and Jack but enveloped Jimmy and Z in a hug. They definitely have become close . 

Mrs. Katz ushered the four of them into the dining room and Will was seated next to Jack on one side of the table and across from Caroline, who was next to Jimmy and Z. Mr. and Mrs. Katz were to sit at opposite ends of the table. It was a small gathering and Will tried his hardest not to panic. As he shifted nervously in his chair, Mrs. Katz leaned over him to place the bright orange flowers he had brought in the middle of the table in a vase. 

“Marigolds. The flower for October, which was, of course, Beverly’s birth month. Did you know?” she asked Will, an appreciative smile on her face. He pushed the glasses up on his nose. 

“Marigolds are known for representing passion and a desire to be successful. I felt that the association fit Beverly well. Incidentally, I did not know she was born in October and was already associated with it.”

“Ah. Well now I am even more convinced it was her spirit who guided you to them. Thank you, Will. This was special.” Mrs. Katz patted his shoulder affectionately and sat next to him at the end of the table. 

The table talked amicably while Mr. Katz was adding finishing touches to dinner. Jimmy and Jack dominated the conversation and Will was thankful they didn’t go out of their way to pull him in. His eyes kept glancing back to the marigolds in their crystal vase and felt the guilt in his chest was deserved. 

Before too long, Mr. Katz served caesar salad on delicate white plates with little blue flowers. Will gratefully began eating with the rest of the table and listened to Jack recall some of his earliest memories of Beverly. 

“She certainly was never shy to put even me in my place. I remember during one of the first cases I had assigned her to, she called me out in front of several of the agents and told me I was holding my gun wrong! She was, naturally, correct, but I remember being furious with her. She didn’t even blink when I had it out with her, just asked if her tip in how to hold it had helped. That’s when I decided I liked her. She always said what she thought and she was so brave.” Jack smiled a little sadly at that and Jimmy wiped the tears gathered in the corner of his eye. 

Eventually, dinner came around and Will was relieved to see it was something he was very familiar with. Mr. Katz had prepared rainbow trout with a toasted oat and almond crust, complete with lavender honey and rhubarb. Served alongside it was roasted broccoli and grits, altogether making the meal a very traditional Virginian home-cooked meal. As Will cut into the trout, a sudden image of Hannibal smiling at him flashed behind his eyes and he could hear him, as if were sitting at the table next to him. 

“I find the trout to be a very Nietzschean fish. Trials of his wild existence find its way into the flavor of the flesh.”  

Will closed his eyes just briefly as he bit into the trout, wishing that his longing to dine with Hannibal once again would dissipate. He forced himself instead to open his eyes and focus on the family in front of him, as if he could make up for the way he had betrayed Beverly. 

“Caroline wants to work at the FBI someday, too,” Mrs. Katz was saying. “What happened to Beverly has lit a fire in her, and she’s determined to follow in her sister’s footsteps. And also to make sure the same thing doesn’t happen to others.” Caroline was nodding and Jack cast her an interested glance. 

“You let me know when you’re done with college if you want in,” Jack said, pointing his fork at her while he spoke. “We would do well with more people like you.” Caroline smiled at that and she cast a nervous look to Will. 

“Well, to be more specific, I’m actually interested in entomology,” Caroline said while trying to make eye contact with him. That caught Will’s attention and he brought his eyes up to hers, which she took as a sign to continue. 

“I’ve read your monograph, about determining time of death by insect activity. Bev told me about it. She and I always liked bugs. Used to drive Mom and Dad crazy.” Will offered her a small, genuine smile. 

“My father used to berate me for the little insect gardens I had kept as a kid. They’ve always fascinated me too,” Will offered and Caroline smiled more openly at that and her expression was so youthful and innocent that Will was reminded of Abigail. 

“I knew a girl, around your age. Her name was Abigail. I was a guardian of sorts to her. I had planned on teaching her how to fish, and of teaching her all about the insects associated with Virginia's streams and lakes. She would’ve liked to learn it all, I think. You’re as curious as she was,” Will said softly, looking at the table. He heard Jack sigh quietly and Mrs. Katz reached over and grabbed his hand, causing him to flinch. 

“I’m sorry,” she said as she withdrew her hand quickly. “But I’ve heard about your Abigail. I’m sorry that happened to you, that you had to watch that. Her case begins tomorrow, no?” Will nodded and suddenly felt quite sick. He’d promised himself, and the version of Abigail that resided in his memory palace, that he wouldn’t defect to Hannibal’s side, not this time. But he already had with Beverly. 

The rest of the meal continued without another mention of Abigail but instead was filled with fond memories of Beverly. Hot apple pie with ice cream was served as dessert and then Mr. and Mrs. Katz began cleaning up, ushering the four of them to the living room for coffee and presumably more conversation. Sensing his chance, Will made his apologies but insisted he had to leave, citing Abigail’s case and his inevitable testimony as reason enough to head home and get to bed early. The Katzes nodded politely before walking him to the door. 

“Oh, wait, Will, one last thing before you leave,” said Mrs. Katz and she walked to a nearby room before returning with a photograph in her hand and handed it to him. 

It was a photograph of Beverly, Z, Jimmy and Will. It had been taken at a July 4th barbeque celebration that the FBI had hosted and that Will had been forced into attending by Beverly when he had first started consulting on cases. Before the encephalitis, when Hannibal was just Hannibal and not the Chesapeake Ripper. Will smiled tightly as he looked at Beverly smiling up at him. 

“Thank you,” he said quietly and made his way out of the house and to his car. He shoved the picture in his jacket pocket and began the drive home. 

Once home, Will quickly showered and collapsed in bed, absolutely exhausted by the strain socializing had put on him. As he lay in bed, he examined the photograph further under the lamplight. Beverly truly did look stunning in the picture. Her smile was genuine and wide, and her hair blew in the wind behind her. She held Jimmy tight beside her, who was also being held tightly by Z. Will wondered absentmindedly if they had already been dating then before deciding that they had not. He assumed it happened after the loss of Beverly and that it had caused them to see that they should live life as if each moment could be their last. 

Will stood on the other side of Beverly, relatively relaxed under her touch. He wore a small smile that looked… genuine. Will looked at the photo more closely in confusion, as he was normally much more awkward in pictures. As he ran his hand over his own smile in the photo, he suddenly remembered who had been taking the photo in the first place. 

“Will! Come get in on this picture!” Beverly shouted as she pulled Z and Jimmy in front of the kitschy July 4th decorations. Will groaned, shaking his head. Hannibal appeared at Will’s elbow, smiling softly. 

“Not fond of photographs, or is it the garish display of nationalism that stays your hand?” Hannibal asked. Will scoffed. 

“Regarding the abundance of nationalism, suffice it to say that a lion doesn’t have to wave around evidence of its teeth for prey to know the danger it poses. As for the photographs- I would say I am not particularly fond.”

“Most individuals detest seeing themselves in photographs because it shows the individual how the rest of the world sees them, rather than the image one sees in a mirror, which is actually a reflected image and thus not reality. Most individuals don’t enjoy having their reality tested. How do you think the image you see of yourself in a mirror differs from the image you project to the rest of the world, Will?” Will frowned and was just about to open his mouth to answer when Beverly grabbed his arm and dragged him over to Jimmy and Z. 

“Would you mind taking the picture, Dr. Lecter?” she asked and Hannibal’s eyes shone as he shot a glance at Will. Will rolled his eyes as Hannibal took Beverly’s phone. Hannibal held up the phone to take the picture and Beverly pulled Will close to her side. 

“Say ‘nationalism!’” Hannibal said, which Will couldn’t help but crack a smile at as he met Hannibal’s eyes over the phone as he took the picture. 

Upon remembering this detail, Will examined his face closer and could see that his eyes weren’t actually fixed on the camera, they were fixed on something above the camera, which would have been Hannibal’s face. This was a photo of Will smiling at Hannibal. Will couldn’t help but notice how happy he looked in the picture and the authenticity of the small smile he wore. He rubbed his eyes as he tried to deny the implications of what this might mean regarding his feelings about Hannibal and laid the photo on a book on his nightstand before turning off the lamp and slipping into an almost-peaceful sleep.  

***

The respite that his sleep had offered him was torturously brief. He woke at three in the morning and immediately was full of a sense of impending doom. His eyes shot to the clock, and realizing the date, his heart sank. Today was the beginning of Abigail’s case. Knowing that sleep must be sacrificed at this point, Will threw the covers of himself and began to pace the room nervously. His dogs stared up at him in sleepy confusion and annoyance. Winston tried multiple times to paw at Will in an effort to calm him down, but nothing seemed to work on Will. Not this morning. 

He kept glancing back to the picture on his nightstand, debating whether or not he should burn it. He longed to destroy it, as it would destroy the evidence of how genuinely happy he was around Hannibal. But everytime he tried to bring a flame close to the photograph, his heart grabbed and forced him to stay his hand. 

When he wasn’t obsessing over the photograph, he was trying to reign in his rage and anxiety. He spent a fitful hour or two imagining destroying Hannibal with his bare hands- fingernails ripping apart flesh, teeth creating streams of red in Hannibal’s skin, and feeling Hannibal’s life slip away while under his grasp- but he was even more focused on the images of Abigail’s death playing over and over behind his eyelids. Her helpless gasps and the warmth of her blood on his hands. He felt as if he had killed her too. I did kill her. If only I had gone with him, no one would have had to die…

The guilt wreaked havoc on his body and he was sweating, shaking with chills, and eventually found himself vomiting in the bathroom. After a particularly nasty bout of sickness, he leaned back on the bathroom wall and tried to catch his breath. He pulled at his hair nervously and shed a couple of tears as the image of he and Abigail fishing resurfaced from the depths of his mind. The image brought him some peace and he slowly came back to himself. 

How long he sat on that bathroom floor, he wasn’t entirely sure, but was roused back to reality when his dogs began barking. He pulled himself to his feet and walked out of the bathroom to let them run outside. It was nearing sunrise so Will went through the motions of preparing for court. Today he dressed up slightly more than usual since he would be testifying. He needed the jury to be on Abigail’s side, which meant he had to hold it together. For Abigail . 

He wore a navy blue suit with a light blue collared shirt underneath. He paired it with a navy tie and pointed oxford shoes. He fixed his hair to something presentable and while looking in the mirror, he steeled himself for the case coming for him. He heard Jack knocking at the door so he went out to meet him, purposefully leaving his glasses behind. He couldn’t hide, not today. He didn’t want to. 

When Will walked into the courtroom, he was relieved to find that the crowd was considerably smaller. Beverly’s case had drawn in so many people from the FBI and the public due to her status, but compared to her, Abigail was a nobody in the public eye. News about her father had long since lost its marketability, yet Will caught sight of Freddie in the back of the courtroom. If he didn’t know any better, he would’ve even said she looked mournful. 

He took a seat next to Jack on the front row of the prosecution’s side. Z and Jimmy sat next to him and offered their sympathies and wishes of luck, but Will couldn’t hear them. He was too busy staring at the picture of Abigail that Ms. Ramierez had already projected onto the screen. Abigail’s smiling face stared back at him and Will was initially comforted but then enraged as he remembered where he was and why. By the time the jury had shuffled in, Will’s face was decidedly murderous and fixed upon the door through which Hannibal was bound to walk through any minute. 

The door in question swung open and Hannibal was led inside. He immediately locked eyes with Will and Will’s expression didn’t falter; he was glaring daggers at Hannibal and yet Hannibal took it in stride. He kept his eyes focused on Will but his expression remained carefully blank and he sat at his place on the defendant’s bench with little concern for the man who appeared ready to kill him on the other side of the courtroom. 

Jack must’ve noticed and provided a quick jab with his elbow to Will’s side. Will finally realized his name had been called several times and the eyes of the courtroom were on him. He had been so far into his rage he hadn’t noticed the minutes go by and the proceedings continue around him. He cleared his throat awkwardly but the rage provided him with enough confidence to walk to the witness stand and swear the oath without any faltering. He took his seat and Ms. Ramierez began to question him. 

Her line of questioning was exhaustive. They established how Will was first introduced to Abigail and Will begrudgingly admitted Hannibal had saved her life then. They fortunately didn’t spend too much time when it came to his own implication in Abigail’s fake murder attempt, but did emphasize how he was unaware that Abigail was still alive and was under the assumption Hannibal had already killed her. Then, Ms. Ramierez broached the subject of the night in question. 

“What were you doing at Dr. Lecter’s house that evening in the first place?” 

“I was taking part in a covert operation to capture Dr. Lecter and hold him accountable for the numerous murders he had committed,” Will couldn’t help the bite that accompanied the words, but the defense was quick to pick up on it. 

“Objection! Improper characterization of the defendant,” Mr. Metcalfe said. Will tried incredibly hard not to roll his eyes. 

“Sustained. Mr. Graham, you’d do well to remember Dr. Lecter, in this moment, has not been convicted of these crimes and therefore your use of the phrase ‘numerous murders he had committed’ is unsubstantiated. Be more mindful of that as you proceed.” Judge Honesworth nodded to Ms. Ramierez and she looked at Will pointedly as if reminding him to behave himself. 

“As I understand it, this covert operation was actually considered entrapment and a warrant was issued for your arrest. Is that correct Mr. Graham?” Ms. Ramierez asked. 

“The charges were withdrawn,” Will said with impatience. Ms. Ramierez gave him another pointed stare and Will tried to remind himself she was only asking him these questions to get them out of the way before the defense attacked him for it. 

“So, you and Jack Crawford plan to meet Dr. Lecter for dinner. Only Mr. Crawford had arrived separately before you and so you came by yourself. Please tell the court what happened next Mr. Graham.” 

“I arrived at Dr. Lecter’s house. It was raining, so I didn't immediately see the body on the ground in front of the house door but when I did, I ran over and saw Dr. Bloom, covered in glass shards and bleeding. I called 9-1-1 and requested medical assistance. She tells me to go ahead inside, that Jack is still in there. I get out my gun and walk inside, but it’s quiet. I walked into the kitchen and saw no one, just blood pouring from the pantry, which I later found out was Jack. I heard something behind me and I turned and saw Abigail, standing there in perfect health. I was shocked. It completely shook me and it felt as if time had come to a standstill. She was crying at this point and I asked her where Hannibal was, and she indicates he’s behind me. I turn to see him, and he’s… upset. Next thing I know, he’s stabbing me in the abdomen. He tells me he had wanted us to run away together- he, Abigail, and I. I dropped to the floor and he told me he’d let me see him, know him. He felt betrayed by me. And so to punish me, he killed Abigail right in front of me. He knew I loved her, and wanted to protect her. But he wanted me to hurt, so he killed her. Slit her throat and dropped her to the floor,” Will talked with a controlled fierceness in his voice but tears are still gathering in his eyes. “Then he walked out and left us to die.” Will can’t help but glance at Hannibal but for once Hannibal isn’t looking at him. He’s focused on the wood of the desk in front of him and Will longs to kill him for deciding that now is the time to be polite and look remorseful. 

Ms. Ramierez nodded sympathetically before turning to Mr. Metcalfe. 

“Your witness,” she says to him. Mr. Metcalfe smooths his exorbitantly priced suit and stands up, eyes set on Will. 

“Mr. Graham. Telephone records from that night indicate you placed a call from your cell phone to Dr. Lecter shortly before the events of the night unfolded. What did you say?” Will taps his fingers on the podium in front of him, reluctant to explain his answer. 

“I told him ‘they know.’ I warned him that the FBI was coming for him.” Mr. Metcalfe nods and walks closer towards Will, his eyes narrowed. 

“And why did you do that?”

“Because… he was my friend.” This time when Will glances at Hannibal, his eyes are back to being locked on Will and it causes the breath to catch in his throat. 

“Your friend? Is that why you failed to draw the gun you said you had and take him down when it was just you, he, and Abigail in the kitchen? Were you his friend or were you an agent working to take him down?” Will can hear the faint buildup of panic in his ears. 

“I cared for him. I can’t deny that. In regards to the question of why I didn’t take him down- I was sufficiently shocked when I saw Abigail and even more so when I saw the hurt in his eyes, given I thought he’d been incapable of that depth of hurt. I couldn’t see he was armed. And by the time he got to Abigail, I was already bleeding out myself and couldn’t discharge my weapon.” 

“My client tells me, Mr.Graham, you had ample time to discharge a weapon if you had wished. He claims you stood in front of him for several moments and even allowed him to cup your face with his hand before he stabbed you. What I want to know is why you’d allow such an intimate gesture from someone you were trying to take down. Were you and Dr. Lecter physically involved?” Will’s face immediately turns pink at the insinuation but is still angry enough to scoff. 

“No.” 

“Were the two of you romantically involved, even if it wasn’t physical?” As much as Will is taken aback by the question, he still noticed Hannibal cock his head in interest. 

“No.” 

“Had Dr. Lecter ever held your face like that before?” 

“No.”

“Then why did you allow him such contact, instead of placing him under arrest?” 

“I-I-...,” Will swallowed nervously and could hear his blood pounding in his ears. 

“I’ll remind you that you’re under oath to answer truthfully, Mr. Graham.” But Will couldn’t offer a response. He searched desperately within himself yet avoided the darkest recesses of his mind. 

“I don’t know.” 

“Ah, I see. No further questions, your Honor.” Mr. Metcalfe said, looking triumphant as he stalked back to the defense bench. Will, who had been staring intently at his shoes, raised his head to look at Hannibal. All he could see when he met his eyes were images of that night, of how hurt Hannibal had been. Will could have sworn he saw a few tears from Hannibal that night. If he wasn’t mistaken, his face looked ever so slightly more open as he gazed at Will now. It was… almost sad, insofar as Hannibal could feel sad. Will felt an inexplicable desire to touch his face, feel his warmth. 

But those traitorous feelings seemed to disappear after Will glanced back at Abigail’s picture. Her slaughter flitted through his mind. He steeled his expression and forced himself to look away from Hannibal as he walked back to his seat. 

After questioning both Jack and Alana about that night, the lawyers made their final arguments to the jury. Ms. Ramierez emphasized the point that Hannibal had attempted to kill several close friends and an ex lover that night not on impulse, but that the murder was clearly premeditated. She cited Will’s testimony regarding his dinner with Hannibal the night before Abigail’s murder as evidence that Hannibal had some clue that the FBI was closing in on him and yet decided to stay even if it meant killing his friends. She also cited Will’s phone call as further evidence that Hannibal had been given several chances to walk away and yet decided not to. She aimed to characterize Hannibal as methodical, logical, and cruel, but still technically sane. Hannibal’s lawyer characterized the injuries and murder as impuslive acts and argued that they were more characteristic of someone who was insane. He also called out Will’s testimony and threw doubt on Will’s motives. He hinted at their friendship and implied intimacy; in doing so, he aimed to characterize Will’s testimony as untrustworthy. 

Will could feel the shifting in the jury’s thinking. Many had initially sympathized with Will but he could almost feel their eyes on him, trying to figure out if he was some co-conspirator with Hannibal. If they were secret lovers. The pounding in Will’s head grew and he wanted to punch something. This was supposed to be for Abigail. Just let her rest in peace.

Judge Honesworth adjourned the court for that day at five in the afternoon. Will rode home in silence, barely managing a “thanks” to Jack when he dropped him off. Will walked towards his front door as if in a trance. He opened his front door and after closing it behind him, he turned to the living room to greet his dogs but stopped dead in his tracks. Abigail was standing by the fireplace, petting Winston as he sat happily beside her.

“Abigail,” Will said. It was all he could manage to say. 

“I know, Will,” she said, smiling sadly. He shuffled his feet before looking at her again, affection rising in him. 

“I couldn’t save you. I let you down. I just wanted to get justice for you, but with Metcalfe questioning my reliability, I don’t know that the murder charge will even stick…” Abigail shook her head. 

“It doesn’t matter, Will. What’s done is done.” But Will couldn’t accept that, couldn’t fathom the idea that he would fail in holding Hannibal accountable for Abigail’s blood. 

“I promise you, Abigail, somehow, I will make him pay for what he did to you. I’ll kill him myself if I have to.” Abigail looked at him with shock but could see the rage in his eyes, the righteousness that propped up his shoulders as he contemplated getting justice for her. She just nodded softly and offered a small smile and then she was gone. 

And he was alone. As he lay in bed that night, he stared at his ceiling and imagined slitting Hannibal’s throat, just as he had done to Abigail. 

Will stood behind Hannibal, and held Hannibal tight to his chest. He wrapped an arm around the front of him, and brought up his right hand, which held a gleaming knife, to Hannibal’s throat. Hannibal was pliable in his arms, as if he were content to die at Will’s hand. Will clung on to him and quickly sliced Hannibal’s throat. Blood sprayed from his throat and coated the walls and floors in arterial spray. His warm blood soaked Will’s hands and Will tried to catch his breath as he let Hannibal’s body drop to the ground. He felt euphoric, as if he had carried out God’s wrath in righteous anger. Will looked down at Hannibal’s unseeing eyes and felt...just. 

The thought brought some comfort.

Chapter Text

The days following Will’s testimony in Abigail’s case seemed to drag on and Will spent most days in court mentally fishing. The review of the murder charges was coming to a close, which meant there were only a few testimonies and character witnesses before the closing arguments would be made. Will was confident that Hannibal would be found guilty but excused for insanity and shipped off to the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane. A world in which Hannibal didn’t get away with his life was inconceivable for Will. He didn’t necessarily believe in luck, but if he did, he’d attest that Hannibal was the luckiest son of a bitch he’d ever met. 

It was a Thursday afternoon and the court had just reconvened following lunch. Will sat with Z and Jimmy, knowing that they were familiar enough with Will’s peculiarities to leave him alone, for the most part. The two of them were currently engaged in a passionate debate regarding the best methods to save the bee population of the Northeast U.S. when the judge gaveled down the noise of the courtroom. Will couldn’t help but notice that despite the intensity of their battle, Jimmy and Z slid right back into a companionable couple with ease, their hands intertwined. An unexpected image of his hand intertwined with Hannibal’s appeared in his mind and he vigorously shook the thought out of his head before he tuned back into the proceedings, which was now switching to the final murder charge- that of Mason Verger. 

As Will heard the name called out, he couldn’t help but shoot a glance over to Alana and Margot. Margot held her head high and didn’t cower from all of the glances shot her way at mention of the Verger name. As his gaze shifted to Alana, he expected to find some sign of unease. However, he was surprised by the cold mask she wore, betraying nothing. No sign of guilt or remorse… what pathology are you hiding, Alana?

Z and Jimmy were called upon to discuss the physical evidence of the case, just as they had been with each case thus far. However, this case was surprisingly short of evidence, there being nothing but a few of Hannibal’s hairs found on Mason’s jacket. Ah, clever. Alana must’ve taken some and staged it. 

“The prosecution calls their first, and only, witness, Dr. Hannibal Lecter, to the stand.” Murmurs broke out across the courtroom and Will tried his best to hide his own surprise. Hannibal hadn’t bothered to testify thus far and Will couldn’t help but wonder why he would now. 

Hannibal stood from his chair at the defense bench and smoothed the blue and gray plaid suit he wore that on anyone else would look terrible yet suited him perfectly. He walked to the witness stand with an air of elegance that both charmed and annoyed Will to no end. Scowling, Will meant to turn away but couldn’t tear his eyes from Hannibal’s eyes, which bore into him with such an intensity that Will could feel simultaneous heat in his belly and a chill on his arms. 

Ms. Ramierez walked towards Hannibal without the slightest sign of fear and Hannibal tilted his head towards her politely waiting for her to begin. Though Hannibal was sitting behind a wooden barrier, Will would’ve bet his house that Hannibal was sitting with his legs crossed and hands clasped over his knee, just as he had done so many times in their sessions together. 

“Dr. Lecter, I’m sure you have no desire to waste time and neither do I, so I’ll just cut straight to it. Did you murder Mason Verger?” Hannibal smiled and cleared his throat before leaning forward slightly to talk into the microphone. 

“You are correct in noting that I have no desire to waste time, for God grants so little of it to us. I will “cut straight to it” as you say, and admit that, yes, I did murder Mason Verger.” Hannibal offers another small smile to the prosecutor at the end and Will can’t help but smirk, the old sense of comradery he had felt with Hannibal rising to the surface. 

“That’s exactly what you claimed when you wrote a very detailed letter bragging about Mr. Verger’s murder at the beginning of your incarceration, and why this charge is even being applied to you in the first case. But the thing is, Dr. Lecter, I don’t know that I quite believe you. Why did you kill him?” 

“There were a great many reasons I had to end Mr. Verger’s life, his repeated abuse of children being one of them. However, I must say that my primary reason was because he was rude,” Hannibal says with unwavering confidence. Will hides a smile and notices that the jury looks appalled. 

“Ah yes, rudeness, the primary, perhaps trademark, motivator for all of your murders. But you know what element of your trademark isn’t present in Mr. Verger’s case?” Ms. Ramierez asked, slowly pacing in front of the witness stand with her hands behind her back. Hannibal appears unphased, perhaps even slightly amused. 

“I must say I do not but I have every assurance that you are about to tell me,” Hannibal smartly replies. 

“The organs. None of Mr. Verger’s organs were removed. No mutilation of the body. Just evidence of drowning. This murder doesn’t fit your pattern, Dr. Lecter. You did not cannibalize this man. Why didn’t you cannibalize him?” 

“I assure you, Ms. Ramierez, I had every intention of eating Mr. Verger. I would have been delighted to. However, the reason why I did not is rather simple. I was tending to the safety of Will Graham. I removed him from danger and took him back to his house. It was there that I turned myself in. I did not have time to return to Mr. Verger to remove his organs. But I wanted to make sure I took credit for my work, of course. I gladly count Mason among the rather extensive list of those that I have slaughtered,” Hannibal finishes with a polite glance at Ms. Ramierez, who narrows her eyes but Will can feel her beginning to buy the lie. 

“No further questions, your honor,” she says to the judge as she heads back to her seat. Hannibal catches Will’s eye and winks at him, making Will blush slightly, before he is returned to his seat as well. Ms. Ramierez shuffles around some notes and the judge asks her if she wants to call forward any other witnesses. 

“I call forward Mr. Will Graham to the witness stand,” she responds. Will internally groans as he rises and makes his way to the stand. He’d known she would probably call him but had been secretly hoping she’d just drop it and move on. Will sat behind the witness stand and fiddled with his fingers to avoid making eye contact with the prosecutor. She approached him nonetheless and he reluctantly raised his gaze to meet hers. 

“Mr. Graham, you were there the night Dr. Lecter allegedly killed Mason Verger, yes?” 

“Yes,” he replied tonelessly. 

“Did you see Dr. Lecter murder Mr.Verger?” 

“No.” 

“Did you see anyone else murder Mr. Verger?” 

“No.” 

“Are you in any way aware of who else might have murdered Mr. Verger than Dr. Lecter?” Will hesitated at that, stopping his gaze from flickering to Margot and Alana. For just a fraction of a second, Will imagined ratting Alana out, of making her pay penance for not believing in him all those years ago. But just as quickly as the thought came, it was gone. 

“No.” 

“Do you find it plausible that Dr. Lecter murdered Mr. Verger that night?” Will sighed. You fucking owe me, Alana.

“Yes. But, as I stated in the formal case file, I was drugged and do not remember anything from that night. I can’t offer anything else.” The prosecutor nodded and Will was soon released back to his chair. Having found nothing contradictory, Ms. Ramierez concluded the Verger case by arguing that Hannibal should be found guilty on this count as well. Margot’s shoulders seemed to relax and Alana’s brow unfurrowed. 

“This concludes the review of each murder charage. The court will now hear any other charges levied against Dr. Lecter. I have only one other charge to add, is that still correct, Ms. Rameriez?” the judge asked. 

“Yes, your honor,” she replied. 

“Very well then. The jury will note that we are now reviewing the final charge against Dr. Lecter- that of the kidnapping of Miriam Lass. Ms. Ramierez, you may call your first witness.” 

“The prosecution calls Ms. Miriam Lass to the witness stand,” Ms. Ramierez stated, walking towards the witness stand once again. 

Will turned his head to see Miriam walking down the aisle. He hadn’t even noticed she was here. Other than a slightly nervous expression, she held her head high as she made her way to the stand. 

“Ms. Lass, would you tell the court about your experience with Dr. Lecter?” Miriam nodded and launched into her story. Will watched as the faces of the jury shifted from horror to anger and back again, as volatile as mercury. When she had reached the end of her explanation. Ms. Rameriez posed another question. 

“Ms. Lass, how do you know Dr. Lecter is the Chesapeake Ripper?” Miriam explained how it was the drawing of Wound Man that she had found in Hannibal’s office and how she had been attacked by him as a direct result of that. 

“But the record states that you previously identified Dr. Frederick Chilton as the Chesapeake Ripper. So, which is it?” Frederick visibly squirms in his seat but straightens his tie in an attempt to appear nonchalant. 

“I was hypnotized and manipulated by Dr. Lecter into believing that he had been Dr. Chilton. However, over the past couple of years, I was able to recover my memories. I am positive that it was Dr. Lecter that kidnapped me, cut off my arm, and left me in a hole in the ground for two years. He is the Chesapeake Ripper.” Miriam had angry tears in her eyes but the courtroom was silent following her outright confirmation. Will could feel the jury’s hatred for Hannibal grow and he tried to remain steady against such an onslaught of emotion. 

Miriam was soon dismissed from the stand and she walked out of the courtroom with haste to put it all behind her. 

“The review of the charges against Dr. Lecter has come to its conclusion. Tomorrow, the defense will present their main argument. That is all,” the judge announced before adjourning for the day. 

Will was so deeply engrossed in writing up a research paper for his PhD, hunched over his computer with concentration, that he didn’t hear the knock on his door the first time. However, a room full of barking dogs made Will snap his head up in time to hear the second set of knocks. Confused as to why anyone would be calling on him at 8 in the evening, he padded curiously to the door and opened it to find Margot and Alana staring at him. An awkward moment passed before Will sighed internally and stepped back, motioning to his living room without a word. 

The two women sat on the two chairs by the fire and Will sat on the piano bench near them, quite curious as to what they would say. 

“I know you are surprised to find us here Will, but we wanted to say this in person,” Alana begins, her face softening to resemble something closer to the Alana that Will used to know. 

“Alana and I wanted to thank you, for protecting us. Not letting the court know that it was us that killed Mason. We are indebted to you, Will,” Margot said with heartfelt sincerity. 

“It was the least I could do. Mason deserved to die. You don’t deserve to go down for it,” Will said. A thought suddenly occurred to Will. 

“You say you’re indebted to me. Alana, I have no doubts you’ll be able to secure Hannibal’s insanity defense. I just have, uh, one thing to ask.” Alana narrows her eyes but nods, prompting Will to go on. 

“See to it that he’s comfortable at the Baltimore State Hospital. Make sure he can have his drawings, and books too. Don’t let them deprive him of his dignity. That’s all I ask.” Will said softly, surprising even himself by the sudden request. Alana stares at him for a couple seconds but begins to slowly nod. 

“Dr. Chilton and I have been working extremely hard together on Hannibal’s defense for the past couple of months. We’re close friends now. I should be able to secure that arrangement with him. For your sake, not Hannibal’s,” she adds as a qualifier. Will nods gratefully and the two women rise and make their way to his door. 

“Oh, and Alana? Do you think Hannibal will win his insanity plea?” Will couldn’t resist asking. He couldn’t even admit to himself that despite his confidence that Hannibal would win the plea, he had a small corner of his mind quite concerned that Hannibal wouldn’t. She glanced back at him and smiled. 

“Like I said Will, Frederick and I have worked tirelessly on this. We’ve poured all we had into this.We’ve got this, Will. See you tomorrow,” she said before pushing open his front door and stepping outside into the chilly evening air. Margot smiled at him too before she followed her outside, closing the door behind her and leaving him alone with his thoughts. 

***

January always brought relentless snowstorms to Wolftrap. Will awoke the next morning shivering and wrapped his blanket around him tighter, forming a cocoon of sorts. The chill seemed to seep in through his floorboards and through the windows. As the cold settled decidedly in the heart of Will’s home, Will groaned in frustration. He tossed restlessly before finally sitting up in bed. It was still early, the sun had yet to rise, but Will dragged himself out of bed nonetheless. He shuffled over to the fireplace and bent over the unused logs from the night before and started a fire. He warmed his hands in front of it before he finally sat on the rug in front of his hearth, wrapped in a thick wool blanket, and his dogs lumbered over to him in no time. 

When Will came out of his reverie an hour later, he smiled softly at all the dogs huddled in the warmth around him. He scratched their ears and made small crooning noises as his dogs stretched their tired limbs and slowly woke. As Will was scratching Buster, a singularly powerful gust of wind rattled the house and Will couldn’t help the chills that claimed him. As he stared at the hairs on his arm slowly coming to attention, he felt an incredibly clear sense of impending doom. The wind whistled harshly and even the rising sun seemed to cast an eerie light across the snow. 

Will tried to dispel his nausea by downing a mug of coffee but now all he felt was nauseous and jittery. He dressed in a somewhat haphazardly fashion and couldn’t spare the time to fix his hair before he was running out the door to meet Jack. 

The ride to the courtroom did nothing to sooth Will’s growing dread that the day held disaster. Jack was even more curt than usual and kept taking the turns way too fast for Will’s liking, at one point causing Will’s glasses to fall as he whipped the car around a particularly tight turn. 

Jack’s jaw was set in a harsh line and he kept muttering curses under his breath at troublesome drivers as they made their way into Baltimore. After Jack swerved recklessly around a slow driver, Will finally found his limits to be exceeded. 

“Jack, do you want to tell me what the hell is wrong with you?” Will snapped. Jack shot him a nasty glare and opened his mouth to respond before he closed his mouth just as quickly. His eyes shot up to Will’s disheveled hair, his askew tie, and finally his tired eyes. Jack took a deep breath and sighed. 

“Today’s all about the defense. Metcalfe is gonna be up there, spewing a bunch of bullshit saying Lecter is insane, that he had absolutely no control over his actions, blah, blah, blah. But you know what pisses me off, even more than Lecter himself?” Will didn’t even have time to nod before Jack jumped right back into it. “Both Alana and Chilton are helping that son of a bitch. Lecter tosses Alana out of a window and frames Chilton for murder, and then they decide to protect him, to fight for his life? That feels like a goddamn betrayal if ever there was one,” Jack spits, slamming the heel of his palm into the steering wheel in frustration. Will simply takes in Jack expressionlessly before looking out the car window and sighing. 

“They’re scared, Jack. The last time Alana saw Hannibal, he was promising her he’d still kill her, and perhaps even her family. As for Frederick, he just wants another shiny toy to keep in his toy chest. But at the end of the day, they’re both just scared. Fear drove them to making deals with the devil,” Will says, his lip curling with disgust. 

“The devil doesn’t make for a good tradesman, Will.” 

“Hannibal does,” Will said quickly. “He always keeps his promises, Jack.” Jack just shook his head, as if he couldn’t fathom this life he led. 

“I don’t give a damn if Hannibal Lecter keeps his promises or not. I just want his ass convicted and finally held accountable for all the shit he pulled. I’m tired, Will. I just want this to be over.” 

Will lowered his eyes at that and stared out at the trees flying past the car. Do I want this to be over? Will couldn’t help but feel consternation in the face of his feelings telling him he rather have the court case drag on forever than for it to end and Hannibal to be whisked away and hidden amongst the finest china, seeing the light of day only when Chilton saw fit to bring him out of his cabinet. 

They finally arrived at the courthouse and Jack grumbled at the thick snow coating the parking lot. He finally just parked his car in the middle of the snow-packed field and began his trek to the doors. Will followed more slowly, kicking the snow up under his feet and watching it fall back down as if in slow motion. He passed Z and Jimmy on the way in, averting his eyes when he saw Z grab the sides of Jimmy’s face and kiss him with a fierce affection. He tried to pretend that his first reaction hadn’t been to wish he could do the same to Hannibal. 

The moment Will crossed the threshold of the courtroom, he could sense danger. He could practically smell the beginnings of a spark, could feel the tendrils of disaster. Even the air around him seemed to buzz with electrical insight. 

And yet everyone seemed completely normal. The people in the courtroom chatted in the same way they had yesterday and the day before that. Heels tapped the floor impatiently, gum smacked loudly, reporters scribbled away on notepads. 

Will cautiously took a seat, this time ending up on the defense side of the room. Hannibal was already seated at the defense bench and turned, gazing wordlessly at Will. Neither of them said a word, but there was a desperation in the air between them, a desperation that hadn’t been this palpable since the Uffizi in Italy. Hannibal turned back around first, his chin resolutely held up in an air of dignity despite his current conditions.

Will sat a few rows behind Alana and Margot who were in the front row. Alana saw him and smiled at him, but the smile didn’t reach her eyes. She seemed frazzled and kept checking her watch impatiently. 

“Where the hell is he?” Will heard Hannibal’s lawyer, Metcalfe, ask Alana. 

“I don’t know, Byron! If I did I would’ve told you, wouldn’t I?” she spat at him. 

Alana glanced towards the doors at the back of the courtroom before turning to Margot. Margot placed a hand on Alana’s cheek. 

“I’m sure he’ll be here soon, okay? Frederick knows how important this is.” 

“Yeah, well, he better know. He’s got well over half of our research with him. We need him,” Alana said to Margot imploringly. Margot just nodded and tried to soothe Alana by rubbing small circles in her back. 

The doors in the back of the courtroom swung open and Will spun around to see if it was Chilton. Surely enough, Chilton came striding into the courtroom, carrying a large box of files. The room quieted down a bit and people started to look him over, mumbling about him and most likely trying to ascertain why he would bother defending Hannibal. 

Chilton stalked down the aisle, clearly reveling in the attention. When he made his way to Alana and Metcalfe, he smiled. 

“Where the hell have you been? We needed that stuff,” she said while making a grab for the box of research and various other necessities. Chilton withdrew the box from her reach quickly and made a tutting noise. The whole room was watching the exchange now, Hannibal politely amused as if he was watching child’s play. 

“Poor Alana, always the fighter,” Chilton said mockingly, though the way he shook his head portrayed genuine dismay at the situation. 

“Give me the box,” tried Metcalfe, his arms outstretched. When Chilton took a step back out of his grasp, the lawyer’s eyes filled with a quiet (but steadily growing) panic and Alana’s filled with a murderous rage. 

“I believe that box belongs to us, now,” Ms. Ramierez said as she approached Frederick in the aisle. She held out her hands expectantly and Chilton made a show of keeping eye contact with Metcalfe as he placed the box in her hands. Gasps broke out across the room and Will felt suddenly quite ill. Chilton, however, looked quite the opposite. 

“Hannibal Lecter is not insane,” Chilton scoffed, though he avoided making eye contact with Hannibal. “Dr. Lecter meticulously framed me. It took rationality and cool logic to do that. He deserves what’s coming to him,” he said with menace, smirking at Alana when she stalked up to him. 

“Fuck you,” she whispered angrily, tears falling from her eyes. 

“Oh, Alana. I am sorry you got caught in the crosshairs. I only aimed to maim Hannibal… you were just collateral damage,” he said with a shrug before he flashed a smile at an angry Metcalfe. He even managed to brave eye contact with Hannibal but when Hannibal just smiled more widely at him, he quickly rushed over to his seat near Jack on the front row behind the prosecutor’s bench. 

The courtroom was immediately filled with chatter and Will felt his head spin. His vision began to blur and he could only see red. He knew, on an intrinsic level, that the red was Chilton’s blood. A primitive desire swept over his body and Will longed to lunge at Chilton, to rip him apart and see his blood stain the floors of the courtroom. He very shakily stood up and made it to the doors of the courtroom before flinging them open. 

He walked down several corridors before he found a darker hallway that looked unused. He crept down the hallway, entered a small room and collapsed to the floor. He took several deep breaths and willed his heart to slow its beating. He clenched and unclenched his fists, trying to calm the shaking. Fucking Chilton . 

Will just barely held his head above the tumultuous waves of his emotions. On the one hand, he was fairly certain that if Chilton walked through the door this instant, he’d end up leaving the room in a body bag. But buried under all of the rage was the question of why he felt the rage so intensely in the first place. On some level, Will knew it was because he was afraid of what this meant for Hannibal’s trial. And on an even deeper level, Will knew in his heart he was craving revenge and wanted to protect Hannibal more than anything. He hated the fact he still wanted to protect Hannibal, even after everything. 

After a good half hour of calming himself and processing his feelings, he stood up and made his way back to the courtroom. He slid in the doors quietly and sat on the last row at the back of the room. 

Will had been to several court cases. He’d been an expert witness in several cases, a juror in others, and then there was his own. All of this meant that he was familiar with how a good defense should sound. And what he was seeing unfold at the front of the courtroom right now was not how a good defense should be presented. 

Hannibal’s lawyer had a defeated droop to his shoulders. To his credit, he did keep trying to raise his chin in determination, but it would soon fall thereafter. With Chilton having removed himself as an expert witness to Hannibal’s insanity, Alana’s testimony was the only hope they had left. 

She was on the witness stand, testifying that, in her expert opinion as a forensic psychiatrist, Hannibal was insane. She diagnosed him with narcissism- accurate -, psychopathy- debatable?- , and PTSD- bullshit . Will couldn’t help but watch the eyes of the jury and was unsurprised to find over half of them with discreet skeptical looks on their faces. The only one who seemed to truly believe Alana was the young woman- the one who reminded Will of Abigail. 

Metcalfe returned to his seat and Ms. Ramierez stood up to cross-examine Alana. She walked towards her, confident as ever. 

“Dr. Bloom, how long have you known Dr. Lecter?” Alana shifted in her seat but her eyes were still filled with determination. 

“Since I was a postdoc at Johns Hopkins. About ten years.” 

“I see. And you never suspected that Dr. Lecter was insane? The way you described him just now would certainly display early warning signs that a trained psychiatrist would see easily. Am I incorrect?” Alana’s jaw tightened and she tried to keep her voice steady. 

“No, I never suspected he was insane. There is such a thing as late development, even sudden development, when it comes to symptoms.” 

“Sure, I understand. Let’s say they did develop late. Were you not intimate with Dr. Lecter just a short two years ago?” Alana stayed quiet. “Please answer the question, Dr. Bloom.” 

“Yes, but-” Alana said.  

“Has Dr. Lecter ever threatened you, Dr. Bloom?” Alana’s brow furrowed just slightly but she quickly recovered. 

“No.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yes. Dr. Lecter never threatened me.” 

“Really? Because I have a recording that suggests otherwise.” Alana’s eyes widened in fear as Ms. Ramierez played a clip on the computer for the courtroom to hear: 

“And what exactly do you hope to gain by defending ‘Hannibal the Cannibal’?” came Chilton’s voice through the static recording. 

“The last time I saw Hannibal, he promised me he’d kill me. My family too. I may be foolish, but I’m trying to save his life in an effort to save mine. I’m hoping that if I do this for him, he could… review his promise and promise me life instead.” Alana’s voice was unmistakable. 

Ms. Ramierez paused the clip and turned back to Alana. 

“Dr. Bloom, is that your voice in the recording?” Alana nodded, knowing defeat. 

“Your honor, I motion to dismiss the witness’s testimony on the grounds of deceit and perjury of the law,” Ms. Ramierez said while looking at Judge Honesworth. He glanced down at Alana thoughtfully before looking back at Ms. Ramierez. 

“Sustained,” he said before turning to the jury. “The jury will strike the testimony of Dr. Bloom from the record; it is not admissible and therefore it will not factor into your decision on the defendant’s guilt.” 

Alana’s eyes filled with unshed tears and she angrily left the witness stand and walked straight out of the courtroom doors. Hannibal watched her pass bemusedly and Margot ran after her. Judge Honesworth gaveled down the noise that had taken over the courtroom. 

“Final arguments to be delivered tomorrow. Dismissed,” he said as he adjourned the court for the day. Hannibal was quickly led out of the courtroom and Will watched his retreating figure with a knot of anxiety in his chest. 

When Will made it out of the courtroom, he walked in on another scene. Chilton had just passed the spot where Alana had been waiting for him. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Frederick?” she spat at him, her arms crossed, as if she was holding herself back from punching him in the nose. 

“Alana, I had to. Trust me, as much as I wanted him in my hospital, I want him to be punished even more. He’ll wither away just from suffering the indignity of an ordinary jail cell for the rest of his life,” Chilton said cruelly. 

“You were recording me, the whole time, to discredit me?” Alana asked, her tone unable to disguise the hurt she felt. The briefest flare of guilt shone in Chilton’s eyes but it disappeared as quickly as it had come. His gaze hardened and he looked her over, his lip curling ever so slightly. 

“You played right into his hands, Alana. My advice would be to get the hell out of the country and bury your tracks so well he could never find you. Stop being a pawn,” Chilton said, before brushing past her and stalking off to join the prosecutors. 

Jack stood amongst the prosecution team and he steadily met Will’s gaze over the crowd exiting the courtroom. Will made to walk towards the front doors to the courthouse but Jack caught him just before he reached them. 

“Will, calm down. You look like shit.” Will paused, hand on the door handle, and kept his gaze facing forwards, refusing to meet Jack’s eyes. 

“Did you know?” he asked, tone sullen and sunken. 

“No. You know I didn’t know, said as much this morning.” Will’s eyes flickered to his and scanned, detecting for deceit. Seeing none, he relaxed his shoulders ever so slightly. 

“Chilton’s a coward. He fucked over Alana, he fucked over Metcalfe,” Will suddenly tapered off and Jack looked at him knowingly. 

“And he fucked over Hannibal. Will, I understand that in some strange way, this is hard for you, but-” 

“Save it, Jack. Seriously. I don’t want to hear it. I just want to be alone,” Will said, pushing open the door and walking into the raging winds. He hailed a taxi, climbed in, and settled into the back seat, grateful for the silence. 

His mind was spinning. Hannibal’s case had just been blown wide open. He’d lost the two key psychiatric testimonies for his defense. Because Chilton had not only undermined them by pulling out at the last minute, but also by discrediting Alana, Metcalfe had very little to work with. The defense had been truly abysmal. The reality of this fact came to Will not at once, as reality is prone to do, but instead came in short bursts. With each new burst of understanding, Will could feel his heart breaking, his anxiety rearing its ugly head. 

He didn’t even make it to his front porch before he was vomiting in his bushes. It’s too much, I can’t- . He collapsed on his bed and drew his blankets tight. The dogs huddled up around him, and their (not so quiet) snores eased his nerves just enough for him to slip into an uneasy sleep. And in this other reality, a world where everything was slightly blurred at the edges with a certain hue of sleepiness, he saw Hannibal. He saw him and cried out to him. And this not-so-real Hannibal turned and held out his arms, into which Will sank until they became one.

Chapter Text

Will shivered as a particularly nasty gust of wind engulfed him where he sat on his front porch. He pulled his pathetic excuse of a sweater- an old dark green fisherman’s sweater with large gaping holes and frayed edges- tighter around his slight frame but was too miserable to walk back inside and grab a coat or blanket. Instead, Will sat freezing as he waited to welcome the sun when it deemed the sky worthy enough of its presence. 

Will had slipped in and out of sleep most of the night, always meeting Hannibal in his dreams. As the time passed, the dreams became increasingly tinged with notes of desperation and despair. Not once, in any of the dreams, did Hannibal’s composure break. But Will was another story. Will watched his dream self cry and grasp at Hannibal’s shoulders. In a singularly disturbing dream -indeed it was the one that had awoken him- Will had even watched himself let out a strangled cry as Hannibal was dragged away from the clutches of his arms, handcuffed, and thrown into a dingy cell. He had woken with a choked sob and the image of Hannibal wasting away in a cell clung to the back of his eyelids. 

Will was sitting in a rickety chair and when the anxiety became too overwhelming, he pulled his knees to his chest. He buried his head in between his knees and mentally willed himself to pull it together. Today would be the last day of court before Hannibal’s sentencing. And then, it would just be… over. 

Will had ignored the numerous phone calls he had gotten last night. Alana had called a couple of times but Will didn’t want to hear her complain about Chilton’s betrayal when he knew her concerns about the case were entirely selfish. Jimmy had risked a call, which Will recognized as nice but it still wasn’t enough to make him pick up. And the number of calls he’d gotten from Jack made Will want to bury his phone in the backyard and maybe he’d listen to the voicemails when he was dead and in the ground, too. 

Thankfully, Jack had gotten the hint that Will was not entirely pleased with him and would certainly not be interested in riding into Baltimore with him. But this didn’t change the fact that Will hated driving in the city, so he ended up arranging for a cab to pick him up on this fateful morning. At least he could count on a silent ride into the city. 

An hour later saw Will seated in the back of a cab, meticulously cleaning his glasses in an effort to appear busy in the hope that it would discourage the driver from making conversation. Will was lucky today, however, and the driver seemed just as relieved Will wasn’t a talker. They made their way into the city in silence and as they approached the courthouse, Will could hear his heart hammering. He pushed through the nausea and stumbled out of the cab. He made his way to the front doors and pushed open, his body carrying him through the motions while his brain was tucked away in a quiet place. 

He had been early, of course, and locked himself in a restroom stall at the earliest possible moment. He was angry enough to punch the stall door when he heard Alana’s voice asking if he was okay but held himself back just in time. He creaked open the door and stared at her. He couldn’t even bring himself to form words. His eyes must have said enough and Alana’s gaze softened. 

“I’m sorry, Will. I can’t imagine all of the conflicting emotions you’re feeling. I’m not here to therapize, I promise. I’m seriously just making sure you’re okay.” Will just nodded and leaned back against the stall door to look at her again, to truly look and see . 

“I remember you followed me into the bathroom on the first day of court, asking after my wellbeing. And here we are again,” Will said. “Fate and circumstance have returned us to this moment,” he added softly. 

“I remember, too. I stood where I am standing now. It’s as if time has sped past but here I am, still standing in the same spot, stagnant.” She sighed and leaned back on the wall, crossing her arms. 

“What did he give you that night?” Will asked as a memory suddenly came to him. 

“What?” Alana asks, confused. 

“That night at the Vergers’. I was in and out of it, but I saw Hannibal hand you something before giving you Mason. What was it?” Alana blinked slowly and shook her head. 

“Out of all the things you could possibly ask me about that night, this is what sticks out to you?” Will nodded. Alana smirked as she said “Hannibal gave us Mason’s sperm.” 

“Why…?” Will asked before it dawned on him. “Right, the inheritance,” he said, nodding slowly and looking at her once again. Now that he thought about it, there was something that looked different about her, and it wasn’t just her clothing. 

“You’re pregnant,” Will said. It wasn’t a question. Alana looked momentarily shocked before she offered him a small smile and nodded. 

“Margot and I couldn’t wait. We’re having a small wedding, in about a month or so before the baby really starts to show. You’re invited, of course,” she added. How the fuck can she stand here and talk about a wedding when Hannibal is out there, about to be torn apart by a jury? Will just nodded slowly and averted his eyes. 

“When you know, you know, Will. Margot’s my person. I’m sure you’ll find yours someday,” she said with an irritating smile that Will longed to rip off her face. What if I don’t know? What if I only think I know whether or not they are ‘my person’, only to most assuredly not know in the next breath? What if my person is the one person I can never have?

“He’s going to lose his insanity plea, isn’t he, Alana?” Will asked quietly. Alana looked him over, expressionless. Will watched her, and he could feel the depth of her concern. But the concern wasn’t just for him. Her ulterior motives were clear now.  

“You defended him because you knew you were going to carry Margot’s child. You knew you’d have a full family, with children to protect. And you knew he’d come calling someday, meaning to keep his promise to kill you. You think a child would stop him?” Will asked her incredulously, his eyes darkening as he cocked his head to the side slightly and stepped closer to her. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t draw immense satisfaction from the flicker of fear in her eyes as he advanced on her. 

“I don’t think anything would ever stop him. Except you,” she added thoughtfully. It was her turn to cock her head in interest and get a glimpse into the emotions waging war in the depths of his irises. 

“Hannibal’s fate is out of my control now,” she continued. “At least I can say I tried. You can’t,” she added with a sneer before drawing her shoulders up and walking out of the bathroom, her heels clicking menacingly on the tile. 

Will lowered his eyes to the floor and pulled at his curls in anguish again, knowing she was right. He hadn’t made any effort to help protect Hannibal, not really. He swallowed the lump in his throat as best he could and made his way to the courtroom. 

The courtroom was teeming with people. FBI scientists and agents crowded the rows behind the prosecutor’s bench. The first row behind the defendant’s bench was empty save Alana and Margot. Though they were the only ones who sat behind the defense, they held their heads high as ever. A couple rows behind Alana and Margot, reporters had claimed spaces and were preparing notes as they sat waiting. Just as they had done at the beginning of the proceedings, the victims’ families occupied much of the back rows on the prosecutor’s side. 

As Will stood in the back deliberating, several other FBI suits as well as members of the general public filed in. The courtroom was exceeding its capacity at this point and a cacophony of chatter was making Will’s headache worse. He felt torn in half as he stood at the courtroom doors, still trying to decide where to sit. The logical and rational part of Will-his mind- was intensely angry with Hannibal and was pulling him towards the prosecution. But his ever-traitorous heart pulled him towards the defense. 

A sudden clap on his shoulder by a large hand stopped his agonizing over where to sit. One of the court police officers was telling him to pick a seat, as everyone had to be seated during proceedings. Spurned on by the interruption, Will quickly sat in the back row on the side of the prosecution. His mind had won out this time. 

The doors off to the side of the judge’s bench banged open dramatically and the jury filed in. All of them wore solemn and tired faces, likely dreading the deliberation period they had ahead of themselves following today’s closing arguments. Will felt a surge of anger. Who are these people that they should be deemed responsible for deciding Hannibal’s fate?  

As the jury settled into their seats, the lawyers walked to their respective benches. Hannibal’s lawyer, Metcalfe, wore a grim and tense expression. Even from his seat at the back of the room, Will could see a vein throbbing in the man’s head. Will would be surprised if Metcalfe made it to the end of the day without bursting it. 

The prosecutor, Ms. Ramierez, however, wore an expression that exuded confidence. She sat with her shoulders upright and had her attention focused on the wall ahead of her. She snapped her gaze towards the door and Will followed her gaze to see an officer make his way through before he looked down at the man’s hand and saw him holding a chain. Will forcefully swallowed the bile that rose in his throat as he saw the man yank cruelly on it, causing Hannibal to stumble as he walked through the door. 

The courtroom was silent yet the tension in the air was thick. Will could feel the hatred emanating off of virtually everyone in the courtroom. Their hatred for Hannibal combined with his own, and he glared at Hannibal, Abigail and Beverly on his mind. 

But when Hannibal straightened up- smoothing his tie as best he could with the handcuffs on- Will felt his heart ease up a little, and he tried to school his expression into one of neutrality rather than betraying the concern he felt. 

Hannibal was led to his usual spot and shoved into his seat. Apparently, decorum was already fading fast in the courtroom. Will tapped his foot nervously and tried to tune out the excited whispers that had broken out across the room. 

The door in the back swung open one more time and Judge Honesworth bustled in, his face set in a hard line.

“Settle down!” he yelled over the noise in the courtroom as he banged the gavel on his desk repeatedly. Silence fell across the room and the judge squirmed in his chair as he withdrew his reading glasses. He took his time to clean them, leaving the crowd waiting with bated breath for him to speak. He cleared his throat and began the proceedings with a tone bordering on boredom. 

“Both the prosecution and the defendant will have time today to offer their closing arguments. The prosecution will go first, we’ll have a brief recess, and then return to hear the defense. The jury will then begin deliberation.” He turned towards Ms. Ramierez. “Counselor, are you ready to proceed?” 

“I am, your honor.” Judge Honesworth nodded at her in response and sat back in his chair. Ms. Ramierez stood and walked to the center of the courtroom. She clasped her hands in front of her and began to pace in front of the jury. 

“Esteemed members of the jury, I’m here to explain to you the importance of not only finding Dr. Hannibal Lecter guilty, but also ruling in favor of him being a man in complete control of his mental state; in other words, he is as sane as any other man and as such, he must be held fully accountable for his actions, to the fullest extent of the law.

“Over the past several weeks, the prosecution has demonstrated to each of you the extent to which Dr. Lecter went to ensure his victims suffered. He ripped a teenage girl’s lungs out of her while she was still alive and impaled her a pair of antlers. He killed one of his own patients in his office. He murdered an FBI agent and dissected her into pieces for display. He murdered another teenage girl in front of Mr. Graham, whose testimony you heard on a few occasions. He not only murdered all of these people and many more, but he also ate their organs. He cannibalized these people for no other reason than because he wanted to, for his own pleasure and amusement. He attempted to kill Mr. Graham, and held Miriam Lass hostage for two years before taking her arm. 

“He also has made a habit of manipulating situations to optimize his own benefits. The level of calculation and cool logic needed to pull off these extravagant plans are not the mental machinations of a mentally ill individual; it is the mark of a deeply sadistic individual who takes pleasure exerting his dominion over others,” Ms Ramierez said while staring at Hannibal blankly. Hannibal had his hands clasped on the table in front of him and was listening intently. He stared her down in return and she finally dropped her gaze. Will could see the side of his face light up in a small smile at the prosecutor’s ferocity and he felt a twinge of jealousy, as if a small part of him wished it was he Hannibal was pleased with. 

“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, you have heard expert testimony from several psychiatrists whereas the defense has been unable to produce any. These psychiatrists all attested to the fact that Hannibal Lecter does not demonstrate any symptoms or traits of a mentally ill individual. Their expertise is more than enough to assure you that this man,” she said while pointing at Hannibal, “is a dangerous, manipulative, and extremely sadistic man. All of these facts indicate that Dr. Lecter is a very grave threat to the wellbeing of our people. He does not deserve your mercy. He does not exhibit any mental illness, as has been attested. As such, I urge the jury to convict Dr. Lecter to the fullest extent of the law,” she said while looking at each juror pointedly. She then returned to her seat and looked expectantly at Judge Honesworth. 

“Thank you, Counselor. We will now have a brief recess and reconvene in twenty minutes to hear the closing argument of the defense. Thank you, dismissed,” he said before standing and disappearing behind the closed door at the back of the room. 

People began filing out quickly and Will was soon left sitting in the back of the room relatively alone. 

Chilton was in the front of the room, chatting up the prosecutor. Will rolled his eyes before his gaze shifted over to where Hannibal was, sitting alone and chained to the table. Without even sparing a moment for coherent thought, he felt his legs walking up to Hannibal. When he was only halfway there, Hannibal’s head tilted in his direction without turning to look. Though Will could only see half of his face, he could see that Hannibal’s eyes were closed in contentment as he breathed in Will’s scent. Will flushed but walked closer nonetheless. He rounded the defendant’s bench and stood at the desk, directly across from Hannibal, who had tilted his head down slightly, eyes remaining closed.

They were closer now than they had been in months. Hannibal was three, maybe four, feet from him. His hands were clasped in front of him, resting right behind the small bar where his handcuffs were attached to the table. Will said nothing, just looked down at him and heaved a sigh. 

Hannibal looked up at him then, his eyes slightly wider than usual. With a hitch in his breath, Will was reminded of a similar circumstance in which Hannibal had looked at him like he was now. Then, Hannibal had just killed Franklyn and Tobias and had blood dripping from his chin. His expression then had been pure adoration; Will found himself unworthy of the whispers of adoration he saw in Hannibal’s eyes even now. 

“You’re not going to win the trial,” Will said bluntly, his gaze dropping to watch his own finger tracing random designs on the table to avoid the intensity of Hannibal’s expression.  

“I know,” came Hannibal’s quick reply. Will’s eyes shot back up to meet his.

“You don’t sound particularly concerned, Dr. Lecter.”

“That would be because I am not concerned,” Hannibal said evenly, his eyes not leaving Will’s once. Will narrowed his eyes but didn’t say anything else. Hannibal leaned forward. 

“Are you concerned, Will?” Hannibal asked, desire flickering briefly in his eyes. Will didn’t answer so he pressed on. “Do you find you are at odds with yourself, once again?” Will glared at Hannibal but still didn’t answer. A small voice in his head was whispering yes, yes in a quiet mantra and Will found himself speaking without deciding to do so. 

“Sometimes I look in the mirror and the man I see is not the man I was meant to be. If I stare past my own reflection, past the shoulder of my mirror-self, there I find yet another man. He looks like me but he is not me. Or, rather, I am not him. Not yet anyway,” Will says softly, his mind filling with the fear of what he could become. Hannibal- annoyingly- nodded as if he understood. 

“You see two versions of yourself; you first see yourself as you currently are, and intrinsically you know you have yet to actualize yourself. Hence the shadow of who you could become, looming ever-presently behind you.” 

“You revel in the shadow.” 

“So do you, despite what you may claim,” Hannibal said with a slight quirk of his lips. “Tolerance does not become you, Will.”

Will once again found himself unable to produce a response. Hannibal’s hands resting on the desk seemed so strong, so warm. He fought the impulse to brush his fingers across the knuckles laid out before him. 

“What will you do?” Will whispered, before glancing up to search Hannibal’s eyes. Hannibal’s face, naturally, remained impassive. 

“I am content to see what fate has in store for me.” 

“Oh, bullshit. You’re always planning something, Hannibal.” Hannibal shrugged. 

“Perhaps not this time,” he said softly and cast his gaze downwards. Will was reminded of Chilton telling him that Hannibal was ‘apathetic.’ Looking back over Hannibal’s face, Will decided Hannibal wasn’t apathetic. He was just… content. 

Will was surprised to find that this information made him enraged. He realized that he would rather Hannibal suffer, to actually pay penance for the lives he took. For Abigail. But instead, Hannibal was unfazed. Completely unbothered he’d be losing his freedom. The thought made Will sick. 

Will was about to make some other snide remark, but the bang of the courtroom doors opening interrupted him. Hannibal glanced back up at Will, his eyes following the hard set of his jaw. Just as Will began to walk back to his seat, Hannibal’s hand shot out and gripped his arm tightly. Will looked down to see Hannibal looking intently at him. Hannibal opened his mouth but then uncharacteristically hesitated and shut his mouth. Will raised an eyebrow. Hannibal’s expression lost its (already minute) vulnerability. The mask was back in place. 

“A shadow, by nature, is not a separate entity from the body from which it originates. It is simply and definitionally a real image, a different projection of the original ‘body.’ That shadow in your mirror you claimed to fear is already you, Will. You are already ‘him’, as you say. You cannot outrun a shadow. You are the shadow.” 

Will ripped his arm from Hannibal’s grasp roughly just as the lawyers were returning to the bench and people were beginning to stream back into the room. He cast one last cold glare at Hannibal before walking briskly back to his seat at the back of the courtroom. 

He watched the people file past him while his rage simmered, threatening to boil. He crossed one leg over the other and rubbed his face in his hands before pulling his head back up, pushing his hair back, and sliding his own mask back into place. After all, he only had to endure this for just a bit longer. 

Judge Honesworth gaveled down the scattered conversation and Will saw Metcalfe shuffle his papers nervously. Hannibal was observing Metcalfe with thinly veiled disdain; Will knew the look on Hannibal’s face meant he was mentally scrolling through his rolodex, perusing recipes to turn Metcalfe’s recklessness into art. 

Judge Honesworth cleared his throat and glanced to Metcalfe with a tired expression. 

“Counselor, if you are ready, you may proceed with the defense’s closing argument.” 

Metcalfe stood abruptly, causing his chair to screech against the tiled floor. He winced in embarrassment and tugged at his tie uncomfortably. Will could see sweat beading at the man’s forehead as he began walking to face the jury. He cleared his throat, trying to gather his nerves and direct them towards some common purpose. 

“Ladies and Gentlemen of the jury, you have heard the prosecution discuss the matter of Dr. Lecter’s sanity. Your prosecutors have argued that Dr. Lecter is not, and never has been, an insane man. They point to his academic prowess as evidence of his sanity; I would just like to remind the jury that geniuses are most often insane themselves,” Metcalfe said, his voice starting to break nervously. Part of Will couldn’t blame him, considering his whole defense had been wiped out by Chilton’s betrayal and the subsequent dismissal of Alana’s psychiatric defense. 

“Not to mention the prosecutor’s case is reliant on aid from Dr. Chilton, a man who previously was working for the defense and has a personal vendetta against the defendant,” Metcalfe said in a desperate attempt to find something that would resonate with the jury. 

“Objection!” came Ms. Ramierez’s voice. Judge Honesworth sighed. 

“Sustained. Mr. Metcalfe, stop badgering the prosecution. Move on,” the judge said.

Metcalfe was standing on a floor that was rapidly transforming into quicksand, sure to swallow him whole. Metcalfe knew he had nothing. No ace up his sleeve, no testimony to save the day. He turned to look at Hannibal briefly and then his eyes flickered to Will. Something seemed to occur to him so he turned back to the jury with renewed determination. 

“Dr. Lecter displayed a consistent disinterest in people. That is, until he met Mr. Graham.” 

Will ground his teeth in irritation as most of the audience swiveled in their seats to stare at him.

“Dr. Lecter displayed excessive fascination with him, to the point of it becoming obsessive. He made it his life’s mission to become close to this man, to join himself with this man.” 

The jury was listening more interestedly now. Metcalfe knew he had them captivated. This seemed to spur him on and he talked with a renewed confidence. 

“Dr. Lecter wanted Will Graham to become a killer so desperately that he aimed to trick him into believing he already was a killer. He forced Abigail Hobbs’ ear down Will’s throat while he was under sedation so that Will would wake up in the morning and vomit up the ear, to then believe he had killed her during a trance. 

“Dr. Lecter then framed Will as a serial killer, putting him in jail so that Will would be under his control. He wanted to alienate Will, to awaken the killer in him. Dr. Lecter truly believed he was doing the best thing for Mr. Graham’s wellbeing. 

“He became so obsessed with Will Graham that he didn’t notice Graham’s trap. But when he did notice it, he stabbed Mr. Graham, ripping through his stomach to mimic the gut-wrenching pain Dr. Lecter had felt at Graham’s betrayal. 

“While in Italy, Dr. Lecter twisted the body of one of his victims into a shape resembling a broken heart, all to communicate his depth of feeling for Mr. Graham. 

“But Will Graham was still hunting Dr. Lecter. When Graham attempted to stab Dr. Lecter, Dr. Lecter knew then that Will would continue fighting him, fighting their connection. 

“Esteemed members of the jury, I implore you to understand the depth of Dr. Lecter’s disease. He became so enraptured, so obsessed, he thought he could literally discern Will Graham’s thoughts by cutting his head open and consuming his brain. And that’s what he tried to do, before he was stopped. Mr. Graham has the scar to prove it.

“Dr. Lecter is in love with Will Graham,” Metcalfe stated bluntly. Murmurs broke out across the room and the Will was regrettably aware of the hundreds of eyes that were fixed on him. Will gripped the edge of his seat. Jack had warned him about this, had warned Will that this topic may come up in the court, but Will still refused to believe anything that Hannibal had done to him was out of love. 

“He was so in love with Mr. Graham that he quite literally wanted to break him open and consume his brain, all in a desperate attempt to understand the man who refused to become his partner, his partner in crime, his partner in life.

“Ladies and Gentlemen of the jury, these are not the actions of a sane, calculating man. These are the behaviors exhibited by an impulsive, desperate, and insane man. As such, I implore the jury to find the defendant, Dr. Hannibal Lecter, guilty but legally insane. I rest my case,” Metcalfe said before turning to walk back to his seat. 

Will blew out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding in. He felt dizzy and could feel the beginnings of a headache forming. His eyes raked over the jury, trying to discern what they were thinking. There was a lot of confusion amongst them, that was for sure. He had a terrible suspicion that the jury would take quite some time to deliberate. 

“Esteemed members of the jury, the time for deliberation has now begun. Please follow Officer Blake through the side door to the deliberation chambers. As for the rest of you,” he said, swiveling to face the general audience. “I’m sure you’re well aware of how variable deliberation can be. If the jury has not come to a decision by 5:00 pm today,  you will be dismissed and not called back until the jury is ready to read the verdict. As for now, you are free to remain in this courtroom for the remaining two hours of the day in the off chance they reach a verdict today. That is all,” he said as he stood and walked back through the door at the back of the room. 

Fuck . Will stood and slid through the back doors, eager to get out of the stuffiness of the room. He made his way across the courtroom lobby and sat in a squishy armchair that was off to the side, far from anyone else. He turned it to face the large windows at the front of the lobby and absentmindedly watched the snow fall. 

An hour passed. Then a half hour more. With fifteen minutes before 5:00, they were all ushered back into the courtroom. 

“It’s as expected, folks,” said Judge Honesworth. “The jury will not be reaching consensus today. They will be deliberating everyday until they do so. As I’ve said, this process can often take days. You will be notified a day prior to the verdict. That is all. Dismissed,” he said, gaveling them out. 

Will found himself relieved but anxious at the same time. He knew the coming days would be hell. 

The first day, Will tried his best to distract himself by going ice fishing. He ended up catching nothing and had to pull Winston out of the ice hole after he’d slipped in. He didn’t sleep. 

The second day, Will deep-cleaned his house, which is something he never did. He kept walking in circles, dusting random things. He hid the picture of him and Beverely that had reminded him of Hannibal only to take it out again only to re-hide it. He fell asleep with it clutched in his hand. 

The third day, Will went for a run. And he kept running, for what seemed like hours. He finally stopped after about three hours of jogging and then swore loudly when he realized he had to go all the way back home. When he returned in the evening, he passed out and slept for fourteen hours. 

The fourth day and fifth day all ran together in Will’s mind. He poured himself into his dissertation research- he’d forgotten he was still a PhD student with responsibilities- and didn’t get up from his laptop save to let the dogs out. 

The sixth morning, he woke to a phone call. 

“Jack.” 

“Will. They’re done deliberating. The verdict will be read tomorrow morning, at 9:00 am. Would you like a ride?” 

Will didn’t trust himself behind a wheel. Not now. 

“Yes,” he said quietly. 

“Be ready at 7:30,” Jack said before abruptly hanging up. 

That evening, Will sat before his fireplace and stared into the flames. He scratched his beard, trying to process what would be happening tomorrow. He’d grown up poor and as a result, he knew that people with money got what they wanted. They always did. Add Hannibal’s personality on top of all his money, Will had a hard time believing Hannibal hadn’t persuaded the jury to rule in his favor. And yet, Will had a nagging doubt in the back of his mind that reminded him of how sincere Hannibal had seemed about accepting his fate… 

Will didn’t sleep. When the morning came, he dressed mechanically and was standing on his porch when Jack arrived. 

He and Jack didn’t speak much. Jack knew Will, or at least knew him well enough to leave him alone. 

Will found himself pulled to Margot’s side when he walked into the courtroom. He was secretly grateful she had found him. Will sat next to Margot and Alana behind the defendant’s bench. Will couldn’t hear the stream of people filling the courtroom over the roar inside his own ears. 

The door at the front of the room swung open. 

Hannibal is brought in, cuffed as usual, but this time he’s wearing his prison jumpsuit. It’s a faded navy jumpsuit, and though Hannibal looks unbothered by it, Will felt his stomach clench at the sight. 

The jury begins to file in, their faces somber. The shoulders of the twelve individuals slump under the burden of deciding Hannibal’s fate. 

Judge Honesworth then strides in, his robes swishing in the frigid air. He bangs the gavel. 

“The clerk will now read the jury’s verdict,” he says.   

The clerk walks up to the jury box and a juror on the front row hands him a piece of paper. The clerk clears his throat. 

“We, the jury, find the defendant, Dr. Hannibal Lecter, guilty of all charges. On the question of his mental state, we find him of sound mind. Seeing as he is both guilty of all charges and of sound mind, we, the jury, sentence Dr. Hannibal Lecter with the death penalty.”

Chapter Text

Will’s heart stopped. He couldn’t breathe. The room began to spin in a whirl of violent colors; he was only vaguely aware of Margot reaching out to clutch his hand. 

He blinked repeatedly, his eyes burning with unshed tears as he tried to process what he just heard. The death penalty? 

The reporters in the back of the room scribbled in their notes furiously and cameras flashed with the light of finality. Time seemed to stand still. Will felt like little more than shadow suspended in dust. 

His eyes drifted to Hannibal, who he could only see the back of. Even from this limited vantage point, Will could see that Hannibal’s posture was only the slightest bit tense. He hadn’t moved, but Will could see the guards, with their shiny badges and expressionless mustachioed faces, begin to make their way across the room towards Hannibal. 

Slowly, Hannibal stood. Will was just a row away; a mere ten feet separated them. Hannibal turned to Will, his head turning in slow motion, and looked at him intently. His mask fell to reveal an almost tender expression. 

Will yearned to reach across the low wooden barrier between them and touch Hannibal’s chest. He wanted to capture that warmth, just once. God, why hadn’t I done this before? Just as Will took a half step forward, firm hands clamped around Hannibal’s biceps and began to pull him away. 

Panic bloomed in Will’s chest. He made to move forward but an officer that had been watching him threw up an arm and slammed it into Will’s chest to stop him. He resisted desperately before Hannibal’s calm voice reached him and brought him to a halt. 

“Will.” 

The guards had stopped, loosening their grip slightly and allowed Hannibal to address Will’s distress. Will looked to Hannibal, who stood completely at ease despite the fact he was being whisked away to await state execution. His cuffed hands were hanging in front of him, chained to the cuffs around his feet. Will’s eyes settled on Hannibals’ and he swallowed, unsure how to express the emotion in his chest. 

“You can make it all go away. Put your head back, and wade into the quiet of the stream,” Hannibal said with a soft smile. Will just nodded slightly, not once breaking eye contact with Hannibal as he was pulled away and disappeared behind the slamming courtroom door. 

As soon as the door closed, reporters began pouncing on Will in droves. 

“Mr. Graham, is it true Dr. Lecter tried to saw open your skull to eat your brain?” 

“Will, how do you feel knowing Hannibal Lecter will be executed?” 

“Will! Do you love him back?” 

“Mr. Graham has no comments at this time. Excuse us,” Margot says authoritatively. Alana began shouldering her way through the group of reporters to make way for Margot, who grabbed Will’s hand and dragged him out behind her. The three of them huddled together and elbowed their way through the crowd and through the courtroom doors. They crossed the lobby briskly but just as they’re about to make it to the door, Freddie stepped in front of Will, cutting him off. She smirked. 

“Metcalfe made a pretty outlandish argument, wouldn’t you say, Mr. Graham? Or, maybe you wouldn’t. What my readers would really want to know is: does he prefer to fuck you before or after killing with you?” 

Will grounded his teeth together irritably and resisted every urge in his body telling him to snap her neck. 

“I’d be careful if I were you, Freddie. I think he’d prefer I follow through with ‘slicing the ginger’ this time,” Will says quietly, savoring the smallest flash of fear in Freddie’s eyes. He then pushed roughly past her and threw open the door, the icy blast a shock to his heated face. 

Will wasn’t aware of the specifics of how he’d gotten home, but as he stumbled through his front door, he felt a shift back into himself, as if he’d just returned to his mind after taking a stroll around the block. Massaging his head worriedly, Will sank into the chair closest to the fireplace, intending on lighting a fire to warm himself. However, he found that as soon as he’d sunk into the chair, exhaustion settled over him and sank deep into his bones. He stared into the empty fireplace and lost all concept of time. His phone rang several times, but he didn’t hear it. 

After several hours had passed, Will was roused from his reverie by the dogs scratching at the door to be let out. He shuffled to the door, let them run around for a few minutes, and then ushered them back inside. He fed them and then, seeing as the sun had set, collapsed into his bed. 

He sat in the middle of his bed, with his back resting against the wall behind him. Directly across from him was the chair, the one Hannibal had sat in all those days ago before Will had rejected him. Before Will had driven him to a cell. 

Will could see a faint outline of Hannibal, an afterimage, in the chair, watching him expressionlessly. Will closed his eyes and heaved a sigh. He turned to his side and folded in on himself, curling into the comfort of his bed. Will clung to a blanket he’d pulled towards him and his heart melted when the dogs joined him, walking in tight little circles before plopping down all around him. Winston plopped down right next to Will, his back against Will’s chest and nestled in. Will ran his hands through Winston’s fur and then laid his head against him. 

It started off as unshed tears filling his eyes but before long, Will began shaking with the effort required to stave off the despair threatening to overcome him. He clung to Winston’s fur as a sob tore through his chest. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Will thought he was going to burst under the building pressure of all the emotion inside of him. His heart felt like it was being ripped in half, the blood filling up his lungs and causing him to choke. He was angry- I want him here, with me, right now- but an equally significant part of him felt justice had been served- Hannibal’s not God, he fucking deserves this. Even in his absence, Hannibal was killing him. 

A month flew by and Will barely felt it. He’d finally gotten himself together enough to go fishing- which he did for inexcusably long lengths of time- and to work on boat motors he’d been meaning to get to for a while. When he wasn’t pouring himself into physical tasks, he was mentally burying himself in his Phd research, spending long periods reading about different blood spray analyses and what types of insects were most likely to be the best aids to decomposition. He’d even begun drafting a rebuttal to a piece by a colleague- asshole- who’d taken up an issue with Will’s monograph. 

Will had ignored every call he’d gotten, and eventually the calls stopped. He worked all day, went to bed early, and re-lived conversations with Hannibal in his memory palace until the morning came. 

One afternoon when Will was particularly engrossed in mending a new motor he’d just dragged out, he missed a few tentative knocks on his door. When he stood up from his living room floor meaning to go check his shed for a part, he was surprised to find himself standing face to face with Chiyoh. 

“You did not lock your door,” she said flatly, by way of greeting.

“Wasn’t expecting anyone,” he replied in the same tone. He looked her over. She looked quite similar to the last time he’d seen her, standing on his porch talking to Hannibal. Although this time, she wasn’t toting her rifle around her neck. 

“You have not answered your mail,” Chiyoh said. Will frowned. 

“What are you talking about?”

“This,” she said, holding a manila envelope in her outstretched hand. Curious, Will grabbed it and turned it over. ‘ Mr. Will Graham’ was written in an elegant script. An elegant script that Will knew quite well. His stomach dropped. 

He slowly opened the envelope and pulled out a thin piece of paper. He opened it. It read: 

Dear Will, 

I had hoped I would be writing this to you at a much later date; fate, however, has deemed otherwise- as she is wont to do- and here we are. I write to you in the hope that you would join me at the dinner table one final time, though I regret to inform you that a chef other than myself will have the pleasure of providing our meal. Our dearest Chiyoh will help you with the logistics. 

Yours, 

Hannibal Lecter

Will frowned. Dinner? A final time? He looked up with the intention of asking Chiyoh what Hannibal was on about, but when he looked up, she had gone. He found her standing on the porch, staring absentmindedly at the same spot she and Hannibal had been talking that day Will had watched them from the window. 

“Chiyoh, I don’t understand. What is Hannibal planning?” She turned to look at him with an angry expression. 

“Planning? He is not planning anything, you saw to that.” Upon seeing his continued confusion, she rolled her eyes. 

“Hannibal sent this letter to you two weeks ago. He is hoping you will join him, as he said, for a final meal.” Will still didn’t understand. She sighed. 

“The public is very angry about Hannibal, about what he has done. The governor of Maryland is up for reelection this year, and she wants to be seen as tough on crime and willing to protect the death penalty. They have… expedited … Hannibal’s execution. They will execute him in six weeks.” 

Will fought the urge to vomit. Six weeks?  

“A final time…Hannibal has planned a ‘Last Supper,’” Will muttered, clenching the letter tightly in his hands. 

Chiyoh regarded him coldly. Will could tell she was only here for Hannibal’s sake and, if it had been up to her, Will would have been thrown off another train. 

“Yes. I believe he said the word ‘closure’ at some point. It is as the letter says. He just wants to eat with you for a ‘last supper’, as you say.” 

“Hannibal was just convicted as a cannibalistic serial killer, how the hell is he allowed visitors, let alone a meal with one?” 

Chiyoh leant against the side of his house and folded her arms. 

“Well, Hannibal was sent to Chesapeake Detention Facility, a maximum security federal prison in Baltimore. Hannibal is kept in a hall of his own, where he is the sole prisoner.” 

“Why, Chiyoh?” Will asked when she didn’t offer an explanation. She pursed her lips. 

“Before they could even transfer Hannibal from the courthouse, Hannibal found the man in the holding cell next to him, some man by the name of Miggs, to be quite crude with some of the female staff. Later that day, Miggs was found dead in his cell. He swallowed his own tongue,” she said, her eyes darkening. 

“They didn’t have proof Hannibal did it, but the other inmates attested that Hannibal manipulated Miggs into doing it. If they hadn’t already planned on isolating him, they decided then. Then they transferred him to the secure hall, where he has the only cell. They let him have some books, and his drawings, and they accommodate some visitors. I think they are scared of him, of what he would do if they said no,” Chiyoh said, straightening up again. 

Will looked down at the note in his hand once again. He knew he was powerless to say no. The yearning that sat heavy in his chest had become a reliable companion. There was really no point pretending otherwise, no point pretending he could miss an opportunity to see him. Six weeks… a final meal... His heart clenched. 

“Okay. I will come,” he said quietly. If she was surprised he’d agreed, she didn’t give any indication that was the case. She nodded slowly. 

“We leave in a half hour. You will drive,” she said as she pushed past him and opened his door to walk into his living room. He raised his eyebrow but followed her inside without comment. Chiyoh sat in one of the chairs by the fire. When Will just stared at her, she looked at him expectantly. 

“What?’ he asked, confused once again. She didn’t bother to hide her irritation. 

“You know Hannibal. He will find it rude if you show up to this ‘Last Supper’ in old clothes that reek of motor oil,” she said, gazing accusingly at his ratty plaid shirt. He huffed. Oh for fucks sake, he’s such a pretentious ass… He found himself walking towards his closet within seconds nonetheless. 

A half hour later saw Will- much more suitably dressed in black slacks and gray button down with a black tie- and Chiyoh riding into Baltimore in absolute silence, save Chiyoh’s occasional utterances regarding directions. 

An hour later, Will pulled onto a long road leading to the prison. Incredibly high fences with barbed wire encircled a rather large plot of land with a nondescript, flat-edged gray building that was several stories high sitting right in the middle. Watch towers were posted frequently along the fence, making Will slightly nervous- and paranoid- that they could see right into his head and read his own incriminating thoughts. 

Will stopped next to a little building that sat right next to the electronic gate that would allow them into the parking lot. A stern looking man with a buzzcut asked to see his ID and several other questions about their visit- all of which Chiyoh answered briskly- before pressing a large button that opened the gate slowly. Will nodded his thanks and drove through the gate and searched for a parking spot. When Will had parked, he turned to look at Chiyoh. 

“Now what? And why did you lie about who I’m here to see?” 

“There are five stories and a basement to this prison. Hannibal is in the basement, in Block D, all the way at the opposite end from the elevator. Once you enter Block D, walk until you reach a wall, then take a right. There are three hallways- walk to the last one. You will then go through a gate to that hallway, and Hannibal’s cell is the only one in there- at the end of the hall. You will see him.

“There is one more thing. Hannibal is not technically allowed visitors. But, Hannibal has a group of guards and staff that are willing to do things for him. That includes sneaking you in tonight. So be careful”

“And you’re just telling me this now?” asked Will incredulously. She blinked

“Hannibal said better to tell you here than before we left, on account of your ‘worrying,’” she smirked. “We will go in together. We are going under the premise of me visiting my uncle. I will have one hour of visitation with our contact- my ‘uncle’-  during which you will be escorted downstairs to see Hannibal. Yes?” 

Will had half a mind to turn around now, before it was too late. But his heart gave him no other option. 

“Yes,” he said, nodding once before hopping out of the car. 

“Stop fidgeting,” Chiyoh mumbled under her breath at him as they walked through the front doors of the prison. Will ignored her and ran his hands through his hair again, pausing to run his finger idly over the scar on his forehead. 

After being thoroughly patted down and shoved through metal detectors, Chiyoh and Will walked towards the front desk, where a similarly stern looking man looked up at them expectantly. Chiyoh cleared her voice. 

“Hello. My fiancé and I are here to see Yuuto Ishida,” Chiyoh said matter-of-factly. The guard typed on a computer briskly and printed them two little badges which they then clipped to their clothing. 

After sitting in hard plastic chairs in the midst of the grey and dreary slate interior, another man- young and less stern this time- walked up to them. 

“I’m here to take the two of you to Mr. Ishida,” he said. Chiyoh nodded. 

“The weather is nice today, yes?” Chiyoh asked as soon as they were alone with the man inside the elevator. His eyes flickered to her. 

“Indeed. The skies are quite clear,” he responded simply. Will frowned in confusion but as he saw Chiyoh visibly relax and nod at him, he realized it must have been some sort of code for ensuring the plan was still good to go. 

The elevator began to move, but it began to descend instead of taking them to the fourth floor where Mr. Ishida was waiting. 

“My mistake, pressed the wrong button” the man said, without sounding like it had been a mistake at all. The doors opened as they reached the basement level and Chiyoh nudged Will out. He turned to look over his shoulder and saw Chiyoh and the man watching him expressionlessly as the doors closed. Then they were gone.

Will looked around and saw nothing but a dimly lit basement full of dark corridors. Every couple of hundred feet there were fluorescent lights that flickered like torches would against the wall of a cave. He walked forward tentatively and, having entered into an area with slightly more light, he could see that he was essentially in one long corridor with four hallways. He peered at the small sign closest to him, which read ‘Block A.’

Thrusting his hands into his pockets, he began to make his way down the hall, the clack, clack of his shoes the only noise that filled the hall. He was a little distressed by the fact he hadn’t seen any guards or staff. It certainly seemed like a basement they used to shove away the things that scared them. 

Eventually, he reached Block D. He walked past the sign post until he reached the wall Chiyoh had mentioned. He looked to his left and frowned. It was quite dark- there were no lights to this side of the hall- and he could swear he felt a draft. Shivering, he backed away from the dark expanse and towards the hallway to the right where Chiyoh had told him to turn.

He walked down to the third hallway and when he turned down the hall, he was relieved to find it slightly more well lit and he could even hear a faint sound of voices. A solid metal door stood at the end of the hallway and off to the right of it was a small room. Will walked to the door and came face to face with the first person he’d seen in the entire basement. A man in his thirties sat in a chair with his feet up on the desk in front of him. 

The man just stared at Will expectantly. Will swallowed, unsure of what to say. His gaze flickered to the computer that sat on the man’s desk. The man followed his gaze and belatedly realized he’d left open a tab of porn. He quickly closed the browser and pulled up the screen Will assumed he was supposed to have on- a live video feed of a large glass cell. Will could see Hannibal sitting at a desk, drawing. 

The man looked back up at him, smacking the gum he was chewing on. 

“You hear to see the cannibal?” he asked boredly. 

“Yes,” said Will shortly. The man just raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything else, shrugging as he reached forward to press a green circle button. The metal wall emitted a loud buzzing sound and began to slide open. Will watched it for a moment before turning to thank the guard but paused when he saw the man had already resumed the porn. He sighed and walked through the door and heard it begin to close behind him. And just as Chiyoh had promised, straight ahead at the end of a relatively long empty hall was Hannibal. Will had to remind himself to breathe. 

The ‘hallway’ leading down to Hannibal were just long concrete walls. No other cells were down here- it was literally a ward just for Hannibal. 

The end of the hallway turned into Hannibal’s cell, if that was an accurate name for it. A room, perhaps, would describe the sight that greeted Will. The room was roughly the size of Hannibal’s office. It was a cold-looking sterile white room with bright fluorescent lights. But Hannibal had been fortunate, it seemed. He had a large amount of books lined up neat little columns on the floor against the back wall. He had a small cot up against the right wall in the back corner and in front of the bed and in the front corner of the room was a desk, pushed up against the wall. He had pinned what must have been at least twenty extravagant drawings to the wall above the desk. 

In the back corner on the left side of the room, a short wall jutted out from the side of the wall- a modest partition to the corner that was a shower. A toilet and sink were on the wall right before the shower. The cell didn’t have any bars like Will had expected. Instead, there was just a large thick glass wall with tiny holes punched out along the middle. Will had no idea where the door was. The overall effect reminded Will of a lizard’s terrarium. 

Will began walking slowly towards the glass wall, a surreal feeling overwhelming him. He stopped within a few feet of the glass and waited. Hannibal stilled, his hand ceasing its relentless shading of the drawing before him. 

“Hello, Will,” Hannibal said without turning to look at him. 

“Dr. Lecter,” Will provided in a flat tone. That got Hannibal’s attention. He placed his pencil down purposefully and stood slowly before walking to stand right in front of Will on the other side of the glass. 

“You know Will, it is customary to return a letter to its sender, indicating one’s acceptance of an invitation. “ Répondez s'il vous plaît.” R.S.V.P., as you are likely to know it. I had not thought it necessary to, quite literally, spell that out for you on your invitation,” Hannibal said in an airy tone. Will fought the urge to roll his eyes. 

“Believe it or not, Dr. Lecter, I do actually possess a modicum of social grace,” Will said sarcastically. “But seeing as I was just made aware of your invitation a few hours ago by a rather irritated Chiyoh, I did not find the time.” 

Will could see the slightest uptick in Hannibal’s lips as he tried to hold back a small smile. 

“I was correct then in assuming you had not braved the trek to your mailbox in several weeks, as your lack of response suggested. Nevertheless, I am delighted to have your company for dinner,” Hannibal said with a more apparent smile this time. 

Will watched Hannibal thoughtfully, quietly assessing. Part of him still couldn’t believe he was here in front of him, just on the other side of the glass. A larger part of him still wanted to wrap his hands tightly around Hannibal’s neck and watch the light leave his eyes. 

There was a small wooden bench a few feet behind Will that he now went to sit down on. Hannibal turned his desk chair towards the glass and sat, folding one leg over the other and clasping his hands over his knee. He gazed at Will thoughtfully. 

“Ms. Lounds has been publishing quite the theories about you, Will. About us,” he added as an afterthought. This time Will did roll his eyes. “She has branded us with a new name. She called us ‘Murder Husbands’ in her article a week ago, and I understand it has gone viral. She has profited off of it, for sure. Seems we are a hot commodity,” Hannibal provided with a playful glint in his eye. Will huffed in annoyance. 

“The last time I saw Freddie, I told her you’d prefer if I “followed through in ‘slicing the ginger’ this time,”” Will said bitterly. 

“Indeed, I would,” Hannibal replied. Will couldn’t help but offer a small smile at that. A couple of moments of silence passed by. 

“Why am I here, Hannibal?” Will asked quietly. Hannibal didn’t respond right away, opting instead to gaze at Will before smoothing down the front of his pale grey jumpsuit. 

“It is as my letter said. I wanted to share a final meal with you, Will,” Hannibal said. Will looked into Hannibal’s eyes but couldn’t necessarily detect deceit. He let his shoulders relax slightly as he glanced at his watch. 

“I have forty minutes, Hannibal, before I need to leave. Chiyoh will be waiting.” 

Hannibal gave a small nod and briefly stared at his own clock in his cell. 

“They usually bring me dinner around this time,” he glanced back at Will with a frown. “I am truly sorry I couldn’t cook for you. There is nothing that would bring me greater pleasure than for you to dine with me once again, as we once did.” 

Will knew he meant dining as they had before Italy. Before Will’s betrayal. The night they dined on Randall. 

“That night was real to me, Hannibal. All of it,” Will said before he could stop himself. Hannibal leaned back in his chair. 

“I know, Will.” 

A loud bang off to the left of Hannibal’s cell startled Will. Hannibal, with a look of barely concealed annoyance, stood from his chair and walked over to what had been the sound of a hidden door in the wall opening. A short black woman stood in the door frame behind bars sliding a tray of food through the small opening. 

“Brenda, is there any way you could bring some dinner for my friend? I’m afraid I made a promise to dine with him tonight,” Hannibal said to the woman with a charming smile. She sighed but nodded nonetheless. She disappeared from view but came back holding a second tray, which she passed to Hannibal. 

“Thank you, my dear,” Hannibal said with another smile to which she just nodded with a raised eyebrow before turning on her heel and disappearing from sight. Hannibal closed the wall-that-was-a-door with his foot and walked to his desk to set his tray down. He then walked to a small box built into the glass in the left corner. Will walked over to the box and opened the little door and reached for the tray.

Hannibal didn’t let go. Will looked up to see Hannibal staring at him, eyes soft. Will froze as he stared into Hannibal’s eyes, just a foot away from him with only the thin layer of glass between them. But as soon as he allowed himself to feel a swell of affection for Hannibal, he shoved it down and cleared his throat as he turned to walk back to his bench. Hannibal followed suit, with a sadness so well hidden that even Will could not- or would not- see. 

Will stared down at the sad offering on his tray. He placed the tray off to the side and grabbed the bread roll, alternating it between his hands as he stared at his feet. Hannibal placed his tray on his desk but didn’t touch his food. 

“This food bears an uncanny resemblance to the shit they fed me at the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane. I’m sure you’re quite offended by this,” Will said, gesturing roughly to the food. Hannibal shrugged. 

“I assure you, I am okay, Will. I will not complain.” Will chewed on his bread thoughtfully. 

“Did I ever tell you how I regained my memory of you shoving Abigail’s ear down my throat?” 

“Come to think of it, no, you did not,” Hannibal said, shifting forward slightly in his chair. 

“I was eating a ‘steak’ that looked quite similar to what’s on this tray, and then I began choking. And as I was choking, I started to get these flashes of you holding my face, holding my throat back, shoving it down…” Will trailed off, still disturbed by the memory. 

“Don’t let Ms. Lounds hear you talking like that, she may get a very different idea about what it was exactly that I was ‘shoving down’ your throat,” Hannibal smirked. 

Heat instantly rose to Will’s cheeks and they turned pink from the implication. He stared down at his shoes but thinking about her ear had brought up a fresh wave of sadness about Abigail. 

“Do you ever see Abigail?” Will asked Hannibal suddenly, raising his eyes to meet Hannibals’. Hannibal tapped his fingers against his legs in thought. 

“I see her everywhere… and nowhere. She has several rooms of her own in my memory palace, and oftentimes, I come across the two of you, always waiting for me to join you. I find myself in those moments imagining the life I would have loved to build for her, Will. And you. For all of us.” 

Will tried to hold back his tears but found he could not. A few trickled down his face and he brushed at them irritably. Abigail’s smile and trusting eyes were stained on the back of his eyelids. He looked to Hannibal again. 

“You deserve this, for what you did to her. I was right to reject you,” Will said, standing and walking to look down on Hannibal still seated in his chair. Anger filled within him and he tried to keep his voice from shaking as it took on a harsh tone. 

“I knew you would keep running if I kept chasing you. I knew you wanted me to know exactly where to find me. You turned yourself in so I would always know exactly where you are. You’d only do that if I rejected you.” 

Hannibal looked down then, just briefly, before pulling himself to his feet. He stared down at Will who, for all his rage, couldn’t manage to look away. 

“You caged me, then? Set another trap, and watched the springs break free. What a cunning boy you are Will,” Hannibal said. Despite the note of pride in his voice, Will could detect an authentic underlying hurt but fought to ignore it. 

“Quid pro quo, Doctor. You caged me, I caged you, ” Will said gruffly.

“Tell me Will, when you trapped me, did you think it would end like this?” prompted Hannibal, cocking his head to the side. “Is being tied down to a gurney and lethally injected before a room of witnesses the ending you had in mind for me? Is that your design? I must confess Will, if this is your becoming, I admit I am quite disappointed.” 

Will didn’t say anything. He couldn’t deny that the powerful desire that laid in wait behind a carefully guarded door in his mind craved a more intimate ending for Hannibal. 

“I’m curious, Will. Will I find your face among the witnesses when that fateful day comes? Will you berate yourself for giving me such an unpoetic ending? Will you wish it was your hands instead, ripping my life away from me?” Hannibal gazed at him intensely. It was too much for Will; he felt raw and exposed, as if Hannibal could see and analyze every inch of him. 

And yet he found himself yearning to touch him. He reached up and touched his hand to the glass, surprised to find he wasn’t shaking. He took a moment and let himself breathe out a sigh. Hannibal glanced at Will’s hand splayed on the glass and regarded the slip in Will’s mask with curiosity. Hannibal didn’t touch his hand to Will’s. 

“Goodbye, Hannibal,” Will whispered softly, letting his hand drop back to his side. He tore his gaze away from Hannibal’s and turned his back on him, walking back the way he came. 

“Will. Was it good to see me?” Hannibal asked. Will stopped in his tracks and turned back towards Hannibal, a look of tortured incredulity on his face. 

“Good? No,” he said before turning on his heel once again and leaving Hannibal well behind him. 

Chiyoh was waiting for him when the large metal door buzzed and opened for him. He walked briskly through the passageway and brushed past her, desperate to get out of Hannibal’s airspace. Chiyoh didn’t miss a beat, falling into step with him as they walked out of Hannibal’s hallway and began making their way back through the concrete maze. 

They came to the wall Chiyoh had mentioned and Will stopped, staring straight ahead into the wide hallway that was pitch black. Will turned his head to the side subtly, picking up a faint scent of earth. He turned to Chiyoh. 

“What is this?” he said, gesturing vaguely to the cavernous opening before them. Chiyoh spared it a glance but rounded the corner and kept walking. Will lengthened his stride to catch up with her. 

“Underground road. Secure transport in and out of the prison. That is how they brought Hannibal in.” 

“Why?”

“I believe they thought it would be best if Hannibal didn’t see where he was, what the building looked like. They put him in the back of a van and covered his head and took him straight to his cell. 

“They want to keep him in the dark, like a sea devil. They think this will stop Hannibal from escaping. They are foolish. Hannibal does what he wants.” Chiyoh pressed the elevator button and stood patiently, completely still. Will, on the other hand, was a jittery mess. Or, he at least felt like it. 

“Do you think Hannibal will die?” he asked, looking at her shoulder out of the corner of his eye. She did not meet his eyes as they rode the elevator back up to the ground floor. 

“You caged him. He is your prisoner, not mine. His life is in your hands,” Chiyoh said softly, the words falling from her mouth like a cascading waterfall- one capable of beauty and comfort yet held potential for irreparable damage. 

They didn’t speak again the rest of the way back home.

Chapter Text

******

My body is a cage

That keeps me from dancing with the one I love 

...But my mind holds the key

• My Body is a Cage, song by Arcade Fire 

******

Moonlight spilled from an unusually starry night to illuminate two figures, dancing in the shadows. 

Trees creaked in the wind and the slight rustle of leaves made the taller of the two figures stop in his tracks, head cocked to the side in curiosity. 

The second figure, crouched at a respectable distance behind the first, froze among the shadows. 

But the first breathed in a prolonged sniff, almost as if it were savoring rather than analyzing. 

The second figure growled in impatience and leapt out of the shadows, hands outstretched to the figure who had his back turned to him. 

The figure turned abruptly, illuminating his face. Hannibal’s face in the moonlight produced a most eerie glow; though he was the one being hunted, the predatory gleam in his eye shone ever brighter. 

The second figure crashed into Hannibal, tackling him to the ground. Hannibal looked up to see the moonlight reveal what he had already known to be Will’s face. Hannibal smiled, causing Will to snarl and send his fist into a collision with Hannibal’s nose. 

Blood sprayed against Will’s knuckles, the warmth a most welcome sensation. He immediately brought up his fist again for a second taste, but Hannibal’s hand flashed out to grab his wrist. Taking advantage of Will’s momentary pause, Hannibal brought one of his legs out from Will’s and used the leverage to flip them over. 

Hannibal straddled himself over Will’s legs, keeping them locked in place. Will struggled, pulling at the back of Hannibal’s hair roughly. Hannibal, however, clasped both of Will’s wrists and pinned them above his head. 

Will heaved breathlessly, staring up at Hannibal with an expression so intense that Hannibal could almost swear there were fires burning in the depths of his pupils. He leaned close to Will’s ear, his breath warm and soft against Will’s neck. Hannibal could feel Will’s heartbeat quicken even more. 

“Have you ever seen blood in the moonlight, Will? It appears quite black.” Will stared at him, still riding the high of the chase. 

“Yours is my favorite sight,” he spat. 

Hannibal’s gaze darkened at that. 

“I think I’ll eat your heart, you remarkable boy,” Hannibal said, slipping his hand under Will’s shirt to touch Will’s fiercely beating heart. 

“Not if I eat yours first, Dr. Lecter,” said Will gruffly into Hannibal’s ear. Will took advantage of the momentary looseness in Hannibal’s grip to slip out from under him, jumping to his feet and kicking the back of Hannibal’s waist to the ground, causing his head to crash into the forest floor. A new spurt of blood stained the leaves. 

Will grabbed Hannibal’s shoulder and flipped him onto his back. It was Will’s turn to straddle Hannibal. Will ripped open Hannibal’s shirt, exposing his pale flesh. Hannibal grinned through the blood. 

Will grabbed his knife from his back pocket, the steel glinting briefly in the moonlight before being plunged into Hannibal’s sternum and dragged straight downward. Hannibal panted but didn’t let out any sign of pain. In fact, he kept his eyes glued to Will’s. 

“Is this your becoming, Will?” 

“Yes,” Will breathed, marveling at the blood coating his hands. “It really does look black in the moonlight,” he added with a tone that could be described as nothing else than lustful. 

Hannibal smiled at that. 

“You… magnificent...c-creature,” Hannibal gasped out. Will looked serenely down at him. 

“This… is my design,” Will said before he buried his hand in Hannibal’s chest cavity, closing in on his heart. Hannibal’s eyes struggled to remain open but were nonetheless transfixed on Will’s face. Will leaned in and watched the light leave Hannibal’s eyes as he ripped his heart from his chest. 

Black rain showered Will as his hands, shaking, brought Hannibal’s heart to his mouth. Will bit down, feral, and tore into it chunk by chunk. 

Two figures were illuminated in a forest clearing. 

One, lifeless, torn to shreds after his heart had been ripped from his chest.

The other, standing above, victorious; transformed. 

Will woke up screaming, drenched in sweat. His dogs howled in a panicked sort of imitation until the whole house was just an outpouring of auditory energy. His limbs shook as he shivered from the sweat turning cold against his body. When he finally found himself hoarse, Will took several deep breaths. He threw off the covers, stomped to the bathroom, and ran himself a cold shower. 

He was horrified. Horrified at what he’d done to Hannibal, terrified of what he’d seen himself become. And yet… Will couldn’t deny that the adrenaline had been arousing; the power and sheer justice he’d exacted had him feeling… righteous. He fucking craved it. 

Moonlight filtered through the thin curtains covering large glass windows to illuminate two figures, dancing in the shadows. 

A steady panting and the quiet rustle of sheets were the only sounds to be heard in the entire bedroom. 

One of the figures moaned lowly, his head thrown back in sheer pleasure. 

The figure crouched above him laughed softly as he pulled back to admire the figure below him. 

The first figure growled in impatience and tugged the figure down towards him before rolling over him to straddle him. 

The shift in position positioned Hannibal perfectly under the moonlight, his hair spilling out from his crown like a halo against the pillow. He smiled fondly at the man above him. 

Will smiled back before a more predatory grin took over. He ran his fingers through Hannibal’s hair gently at first before pulling tightly backwards, baring Hannibal’s throat to him. 

Hannibal snarled in irritation but the sound quickly died as Will’s mouth latched on to his neck, worrying the skin under his lips to form bruises. 

Will ran the length of his cock against Hannibal’s leg, causing Hannibal to inhale sharply. Will kissed along Hannibal’s jaw before ghosting his lips over his ear. 

“Have you ever made love in the moonlight, Hannibal? It is quite ethereal.” 

“I haven’t with you,” came Hannibal’s soft reply. 

Will’s cock twitched at that. 

“I own your heart, Dr. Lecter. It is mine.” 

“Yes.” 

Their lips crashed together once more and Will’s hunger intensified. He began to thrust against him, snaking his arm up to Hannibal’s neck. 

He gripped Hannibal’s neck tightly and bent over him, gazing fiercely into his eyes. 

He brought his other hand to rest over Hannibal’s heart, which quickened under his ministrations. 

“Mine,” Will said as he thrust inside of Hannibal, groaning at the intense heat and pleasure of it. 

Hannibal’s hands held his hips tightly as his head was thrown back, his eyes never leaving Will’s face. His expression was nothing short of adoring. 

Will brought his forehead to Hannibal’s and wrapped his arms tightly around him, holding him close to his chest as he kissed along Hannibal’s jaw desperately and with his own form of adoration. 

Two figures danced in a home built for two.

One, content, having finally given his heart to the one he adored. 

The other, positioned above, victorious; transformed. 

This time, Will did not wake up screaming. He slowly opened his eyes to take in the early morning light. He tried to ignore the fact that he was painfully hard, but when his eyes caught sight of the still-damp towel on the floor from his panicked shower in the middle of the night, the arousal diminished quite quickly. Fuck . Why the fuck am I such a mess?

He had been experiencing this whiplash in the content of his dreams for the past three weeks, ever since first returning home from visiting Hannibal in prison.Will had thought that the more time that had passed since their visit, the more likely he’d be to begin moving on. Or at least preparing to move on for after Hannibal was executed-- which was now just three short weeks away. 

But instead, he’d found that his nights were filled with tortuous images of him giving in to his desires, both the murderous and romantic alike, oftentimes simultaneously. His days were hardly better; he spent most of his time either trying to drive away the visions of the previous night or replaying past conversations with Hannibal on a constant loop in his head. Fishing, fixing boat motors, and schoolwork didn’t seem capable of providing the kind of relief he needed. 

Will busied himself with making some coffee and sighed when he heard a knock at the front door. He frowned when he realized it was only seven in the morning but grudgingly walked towards the door anyway, not even bothering to pull pants over his boxers before he swung the door open. 

Jack was on the other side, face grim. He held a box under one of his arms and dipped his head to Will. 

“Hey, Will,” he said. 

“Jack.” 

“May I come in for a moment?” 

Will just nodded and stood back to let Jack past him. Jack didn’t walk towards the chairs in the living room but instead opted to stand just inside of the doorway. 

“Listen, Will. You look like shit. You probably feel like shit. And I’m sorry to probably make matters worse, but I felt obligated to give you this,” he said, looking down at the box he held. It was small, like one someone used to pack their belongings up at work. Will couldn’t help the curiosity that surfaced. 

“What is it?” he asked. Jack sighed. 

“Well, seeing as Hannibal is officially scheduled for execution, they’ve emptied his properties of his belongings. In this box are some of his personal objects that we felt best belonged with you.” 

Will swallowed. He didn’t say anything. He was silently grateful, and mad at himself for even feeling that way. And yet, he didn’t want to reach out for the box. He didn’t want to show Jack he wanted it. 

Jack seemed to be studying him, curious of what he would do. When Will just sighed softly, Jack took the hint and set the box on Will’s desk and clapped him on the shoulder on his way out without another word. 

When Jack had gone, Will sat down on the edge of his bed and stared at the box. He wasn’t quite sure what he’d find inside. Hannibal wasn’t exactly the sentimental type. 

Will opened the top of the box carefully and peered inside. He was hardly surprised to see that the majority of the stuff in the box were papers of some sort, whether it was sheet music or drawings. 

Realizing there was quite a bit to sift through, he sat down on his bed and pulled the box closer to him. The first folder he opened appeared to be original compositions. Will flipped through several of them-most titles were in languages Will didn’t recognize- until one title in particular stilled his hand. 

The composition was entitled ‘ogni giorno, per sempre.’ A quick google translation confirmed Will’s suspicion that the language in question was Italian. It translated to ‘everyday, forever.’ He was immediately reminded of Italy, and their long awaited reunification in front of Primavera , and what Hannibal had said to him then. 

“If I saw you everyday, forever, Will, I would remember this time.”

Smaller script underneath the title read “For Will.” Will felt his heart stop. He traced Hannibal’s elegant script in wonder. In this moment, Will would have given everything to hear Hannibal play it for him. 

When Will was finally able to tear his eyes away from ‘Everyday, Forever,’ he thumbed through several more songs and slowly came to the realization that the songs were all about him. There indeed was one called ‘Primavera,’ but there was also an ‘Ortolans’ and a ‘Quiet of the Stream.’ 

Will was both surprised but also… not. It was a feeling similar to remembering something from your childhood that became more and more clear as others provided more detail to the story. Will knew, or at least was admitting to himself now, that he knew a lot more about the emotion behind these compositions than he’d previously deluded himself into believing. 

There were also several drawings within the box. He handled them carefully, not wanting to smudge the graphite, but couldn’t resist running his fingers over a drawing that made his heart melt. Hannibal had drawn all of Will’s dogs- Buster in fact- playing in front of Will’s fireplace. He set that one off to the side with a small smile on his face. 

There were, of course, several sketches of Will. Many of them were of Will caught in rare moments of happiness, the dimple in his smile clearly a favorite of Hannibal’s. In some sketches, Will had been inserted into classics like ‘Primavera.’ 

Will was about to place the box back on his desk, thinking he had seen everything, when a small black notebook in the corner of the box caught his eye. He reached for it, undid the strap holding the book shut, and frowned in confusion at the equations scribbled page after page. 

They were incredibly complicated equations. Will tried to make some of them out, but all he could really gather is that most of the equations started with a ‘T.’ 

Will suddenly realized he’d seen this before. Hannibal had left this very notebook open on Will’s bed when he’d stepped out to talk to Chiyoh on the night they’d escaped the Verger Estate. 

“Do we talk about teacups and time and the rules of disorder?”

Then it hit Will- ‘T’ was ‘Time.’ This was a book full of theoretical equations about reversing time. Hannibal had been trying to reverse time; Hannibal had been hoping that the teacup had gathered itself back together again. 

The recognition of this fact made Will dizzy. He was incredibly confused. He’d known Hannibal had an obsession with him, but this… this was different. Stop lying. Will tried to ignore the voice in his head that fought to remind him of the truth- a truth he thought he’d known for some time now but could not bear to name. It was too ugly a thought. It’s too beautiful a thought. 

Will’s heart sank so far into his chest he felt it would surely disappear into the void of his soul. His head began to pound and he sat quickly to hold his head in his hands. Anxiety began to set in like lead in his lungs and Will did not want to face the feelings vying to be felt. Fuck it . Will grabbed his keys from the keyring by the door and was driving numbly down the empty road with seconds. 

Will returned home half an hour later with the purposeful walk that overcomes an addict when they’ve committed to their chosen plan on self-destruction. For Will, it meant he was carrying whiskey and scotch back into the house even though he’d sworn he’d seen the last of the stuff. 

As he made his way back to the chair by his bed- his chair -, he avoided Winston’s disapproving glare. He sank into the chair, opened the whiskey, and gulped desperately, craving the burning that followed. He wanted to burn the goddamn thoughts out of his head, the cursed feelings from his heart. Damn if I’ll feel . 

Several fingers of whiskey later- or was it hands? - found Will passed out in the chair, the bottle hanging from his hand. He was so far gone he missed the knocks at the door and, having gone unanswered, the noise of Alana opening the door and walking into the living room. 

Will didn’t feel the bottle leave his hands and likewise did not register Alana heaving him over to the bed and pulling his shoes off. He missed the sympathetic look she glanced down at him with and the card she placed by his bed. By the time Will woke in the morning, he had no recollection of her having been there at all. 

But the fact she’d been by became quite clear when Will found himself face-to-face with the most unwelcome visitor he’d ever had the displeasure of seeing. 

“What gods have I pissed off so that they’ve sent me you?” 

“You’ve doubtlessly pissed off all of the gods, but alas, I come by the request of a mere mortal. Though a psychiatrist she is, Alana Bloom is no god. May I come in?” Bedelia said, raising her eyebrows. Will simply stared before finally stepping back and opening the door a quarter of an inch wider to let her in. 

Bedelia stalked inside, her black heels clicking annoyingly against Will’s wooden floors. She had a judgemental air about her and sat down maddeningly carefully on one of the chairs by the fire. She crossed her legs and gestured to the chair across from her expectantly. 

Will rubbed his temples in an effort to fight the hangover as he sat down. There was no use. He was miserable. He’d only been awake for an hour and yet he’d managed to make his way through another finger of whiskey or two already. 

“Will,” Bedelia said softly. Will glanced up, ready to tell her to fuck off with her sympathy, but instead he found her eyes cold. 

“I’m here as a professional courtesy to Dr. Bloom. I have a reputation to uphold. She has expressed she requested your presence at her wedding next week, but became quite worried when she found you in a rather pathetic state last night. I’m here to ensure you will go to this intrusive woman’s wedding so we can both go about our business. So you will go. Yes?” 

Will frowned. 

“I have no desire to attend a celebration of two women who literally got away with murder while Hannibal awaits execution for the crime they committed,” said Will sourly. 

Bedelia laughed. Actually laughed. Will glared at her. 

“You can’t possibly be serious,” she said incredulously. “Mason Verger’s murder is hardly the tipping point that convinced the jury to sentence Hannibal with execution. You just don’t want to go to a celebration of love, not when it has landed you in such a perilous place yourself.” 

Will’s eyes shot up at that. 

“Perilous how?” 

Bedelia shifted, gaze assessing him coolly. 

“If your past behavior is any indication of future instability, I must conclude you are about to do something incredibly reckless. You’re impulsive, volatile. Your passion clouds your judgement and you become destructive. You are rapidly devolving. And if you do not stop, you will spill blood.” 

His blood turned to ice in his veins at her words. He could see it so clearly. His anger, his affection for Hannibal, was nourishing the darkest parts of his soul, the parts of him that longed to rain down hellfire. 

“Were you not the one who claimed that I am no killer?” Will shot back once he’d gathered himself. She tilted her head slightly in acknowledgment. 

“You forget what I said after. I told you that you are capable of what you think is righteous violence because you are compassionate. Your compassion towards Hannibal is inconvenient, Will, and quite possibly the spark that could ignite a flame within you.”

Bedelia watched the fear and longing filter across his face, interchanging with one another, melding together. It was endlessly fascinating. 

“It excites him to know the mere thought of him tortures you in this way.” 

Will looked up at her, eyebrow slightly raised. Confusion presented itself there but slowly began to crumble and fall from his face as realization set in and his mind could no longer protect him from the truth he’d known deep down for quite some time. 

Will’s heart beat so loud he could hear it echoing in his ears. It couldn’t be… could it? 

“Is Hannibal… in love with me?”

“Could he daily feel a stab of hunger for you, and find nourishment at the very sight of you? Yes.” 

Will’s heart stopped. 

“But do you… ache for him?” she asked, drawing out the word. 

Oh god, yes. With all my fucking heart, I crave him.  

But Will didn’t say any of that. Instead, because he didn’t trust himself well enough to lie, he didn’t answer at all. He slowly stood, walked over to his front door and opened it, gesturing Bedelia out of the door. 

Bedelia, naturally, had the gall to look affronted. Will just glared steadily until she finally stood, walking past him and sniffing in distaste. Fuck you too, Bedelia. He slammed the door behind her. 

As soon as he heard her car door slam, Will sank down to the floor, back against his front door. He leant his head back and stared at the ceiling, praying that it would fall down on him so he could be relieved of making a decision about what to do next. 

Will knew intuitively that Bedelia did not tell Will about Hannibal’s love for him out of the goodness of her heart. He was sure she had some ulterior motive, but he was equally sure she was not lying. 

He ran his hands over his face. Why did I lie to myself for so long? Will tapped his fingers against his leg. Because you wanted to believe the feelings you picked up from him were just your own, and in that way, you could repress them. Will sighed. There had never been a hope of repressing his own feelings for Hannibal, not really. Despite how hard he tried, his heart kept pulling him back towards Hannibal. 

Stop. You have to stop yourself from giving in to your feelings for him.

Will wanted to punch something. I want to punch Hannibal. Fuck, I want to kiss Hannibal . He opted instead for grabbing Hannibal’s notebook and flipping back to the time reversal equations. He traced the elegant equations and let himself cry. His heart splintered. I wish I could give you forever, Hannibal . 

But he couldn’t. He cradled the book to his chest and remained there for hours. 

****

Will begrudgingly tied the slender black tie around his neck, huffing about wasted time. He added a few drops of water to his hair in a pathetic attempt to tame his curls and shoved his glasses on. He really didn’t want to go to this wedding. 

But, Bedelia had made a good point, as much as he was loath to admit it. She had reminded him of what happens when Alana and friends think Will is “in trouble” or “needs help” and intervention from anyone was the last thing he wanted right now, especially with Hannibal’s execution only seven days away. 

The mere thought of it made Will’s stomach churn. He’d rather stay home and be miserable, but he knew that putting on a show and pretending to be okay with everything would hopefully work to his benefit in the long run. 

He drove the hour it took to arrive at the Verger Estate. Climbing out of his car and taking a cursory look around, he immediately wanted to turn around and speed out of there. There were so many people. So many rich people, dressed in fine tailored suits and dresses, walking around the venue appreciatively. 

The venue was rather lavish. Given that the estate itself served as a backdrop, the decorations were similarly elegant. At least 300 chairs were set up in the garden, pointed towards a tasteful flowered altar at the front. Will stood as far back from the crowd as he could, kicking grass in an attempt to entertain himself. 

“Will! Nice to see you here, buddy,” came a genuinely excited voice. Will looked up to see Jimmy Price smiling at him. Will grimaced but then felt bad, so he then tried a small authentic smile. It was actually a little nice to see Jimmy. 

“Hey Jimmy, how are you?” Will said. 

“Well, now that you mention it actually, I’m doing great. Brian finally agreed to let me get a bee colony for the garden at home! It’s quite fascinating actually. Did you know that the male bees die after the Queen-” 

“Oh dear god, not this again,” cut in Z’s voice, but he was smiling affectionately at Jimmy even as he rolled his eyes. 

“Hey Will, good to see you. Hope you’re well,” Z said. 

“Yeah, yeah, you too…” Will said, faltering for more words. He had nothing to say. He sincerely did not possess any desire to talk with them. 

After the two of them quickly devolved into more bickering, Will made his escape. He pretended to show interest in signing cards of well wishes to Alana and Margot, but was incredibly grateful when people began sitting down and he was able to sneak into the back row a couple chairs from any one else in the row. 

As much as Will didn’t want to admit it- weddings were just not his thing- Alana and Margot did look stunning. Alana came out first, dressed in a flowing white dress that carefully concealed her growing baby bump. Margot opted for a bold black lace dress. Standing next to each other, they exuded confidence and power. Will was impressed and actually rather happy for them. 

But the ceremony did nothing to help Will’s own conflicted feelings when it came to Hannibal. Everytime the word ‘love’ was mentioned- which was incessant- Will’s stomach would churn with anxiety and he’d see Hannibal gazing at him when he closed his eyes. It made his heart ache . 

But Will made it through the ceremony without incident. The reception was held in the large ballrooms of the estate and as soon as he had the chance, he walked up to Alana and Margot to congratulate them (and more importantly show that he was actually perfectly sane). 

“Will! I’m so glad you could make it! I was worried when I hadn’t heard back from you,” Alana said, pulling him into a tight hug. Will fought the urge to roll his eyes. 

“Yes, well, I apologize for that. Congratulations though, Alana, really. I’m happy for you.  And I do really mean it when I say that you’ll make a great mother.” 

Alana beamed at that. Margot turned to face Will then. 

“That’s what I tell her, even though I always remind her I will undoubtedly be the cooler mom,” Margot said, smiling. Will offered a small smile at that.

“Yes, well, I don’t doubt that Margot,” he said. “Again, congratulations to both of you. I unfortunately have to-” 

“No, not yet Will! You owe me a dance before you go! I’ll be back in just a bit, but in the meantime feel free to mingle! There are several professors here I’m sure that would love to speak with you,” Margot said, smiling, as she turned to pull Alana to say hello to some other guests. 

Will sighed. God, get me out of here . 

Will waited patiently for Margot at first. He felt like he owed her in some small way, at least as a way of acknowledging the kindness she’d shown him over the past couple months when he’d needed it. But as time wore on, he became increasingly more impatient and after the fifth psychiatrist tried to have a conversation with him, he tore away to the hallway and walked to the balcony nearby to get some fresh air. 

As he stood trying to calm down in the crisp early evening air, he heard muffled voices coming from the patio below. Walking over to the edge of the balcony, he glanced below and found a section of the patio dimly lit by candles and two figures dancing slowly to the waltz that drifted from the reception hall. 

Peering closer, Will recognized the two figures to be Jimmy and Z. Z held Jimmy tightly to his chest, and Jimmy had his eyes closed, content with being held. Z rested his chin on top of Jimmy’s head and leaned into him. They were talking softly, exchanging affirmations of love. Will could feel the purity of the love that emanated from them. It quickly became too much. 

Will clenched his fist, tried to white-knuckle through the burst of pain in his heart. He wanted to be held by Hannibal just like how Jimmy was. He wanted to feel Hannibal press kisses to his forehead just like Z did. He didn’t just want it. He needed it. 

Overwhelmed, Will took this as a sign it was time to leave. He stole back to his car and drove home silently, mulling his reactions over in his head. 

When he got home, he settled into a chair in front of a fire he’d just built and watched the flames dance across the ceiling. He closed his eyes and sighed. I feel like I’m fucking on fire . His very soul seemed to be calling out for Hannibal, and it was a terrifying thought. 

When Will imagined them together, he often saw them drenched in blood, radiant in their power as commanders of Death. They shared ecstasy in killing together, and in these visions, Will and Hannibal were unstoppable. They were merciless. They tore open the world and its rules and exchanged it for vengeance, for righteousness. They slaughtered many and bathed in the blood without consequence. 

And Will was torturously tempted. He’d be able to be his most authentic self with Hannibal; he’d be able to finally stop fighting the darkness inside of him and just be . 

He’d be able to surrender to the feelings that pulled him towards Hannibal for other reasons. He’d be able to lay his head on Hannibal’s chest and listen to his calm heartbeat. He’d get to feel what Hannibal’s hair felt like underneath his fingertips. Most of all, he’d get to see his intoxicating eyes everyday, forever. 

Hannibal may be confined to a literal prison cell, but Will felt like his own body was a cage. His heart desired unification with Hannibal, but his body would not allow it. 

He simply couldn’t. It wasn’t sustainable. It was a horrific thing to dream of. The bloodlust had to stop. Will knew that the time had come where he had to be the master of his own destiny. He had to stop himself from being with Hannibal, from becoming Hannibal. He knew then what he had to do. He had to kill Hannibal.

Chapter Text

*********************

Under blue moon, I saw you

So soon you'll take me

Up in your arms, too late to beg you

Or cancel it, though I know it must be

The killing time

Unwillingly mine

Fate

Up against your will

Through the thick and thin

He will wait until

You give yourself to him

In starlit nights, I saw you

So cruelly, you kissed me

Your lips, a magic world

Your sky, all hung with jewels

The killing moon

Will come too soon

• The Killing Moon, song by Echo & the Bunnymen

***********************

Will sat on the front steps of his porch, twirling a pocket knife that glinted in the evening sun. He sighed, squinting at the horizon as he tried to mentally reason with himself about what he knew the next day would hold for him. 

Will glanced at his face reflected in the knife’s edge and felt a shiver pass over him. He scarcely recognized himself. Is this my becoming? 

Whether it was or wasn’t his becoming was inconsequential. He felt as if his life would simply cease to matter come the next day. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to save himself. And maybe that was just fine. 

He picked up his sharpening stone that had been lying next to him and resumed sharpening his knife. He drew the blade repeatedly across the stone, relishing the sound of cold steel against the grit. He inspected his blade closely before bringing the tip to his fingertip, pressing just slightly to bring the smallest drop of blood to the surface. He watched in idle curiosity as the blood dropped from his finger to his jeans, staining the dark blue hue. He wondered just how much Hannibal would bleed, and how much he himself would be covered in as a result. 

As Will saw it, there were two possible alternatives for how his mission would unfold. The first saw his mission successful- he would be able to break into the prison to see Hannibal, kill him, and escape as if nothing had ever happened. He’d then finally be free of Hannibal, free to gather together whatever pieces of his teacup-self he could find, and try to be a good man again. Or at least be one not actively living a blood-soaked life. 

Will told himself he preferred this first alternative. A smaller voice in the back of his head, however, whispered that maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if Will wasn’t able to break back out after killing Hannibal. Maybe he’d be shot as he tried to run. He knew that if he found himself faced with the second alternative, he’d at least die knowing he’d stopped himself from fully surrendering to Hannibal. 

Whichever way, knowing that he was in control- that he wouldn’t be giving in to his desires to tear the world apart with Hannibal by his side- brought Will some small comfort. 

Will scraped the knife again, wanting it to be even sharper. He bent over his project with such determination that he didn’t see the figure that had come to stand behind him. He certainly hadn’t been able to hear it. 

“Will? What are you doing?” came a timid, light voice. 

Will paused, his knife hovering over the stone. He turned to glance over his shoulder slightly and swallowed as he saw Abigail walk into his line of vision, an expression of concern apparent on her face. 

“You know what I’m doing,” he said gruffly, avoiding eye contact with her. “I’m doing what I’d promised you I would do. I told you that he would pay for what he did to you, and to Beverly, and that’s what I’m making sure happens.” 

An expression of fear flitted across Abigail’s face. 

“You don’t sound like you, Will. I don’t think this is what-” 

“How would you know, Abigail, hmm? You don’t know what it’s like, having him in your head all the goddamn time, unable to resist him, loving him-” his voice broke, and he rubbed at his eyes in frustration. 

“Seriously?” came Abigail’s annoyed question. Will looked up in confusion and saw her eyebrow quirked in disbelief. 

“You do know who you’re talking to, right?” she said, making her way over to sit on the step next to him. “I know exactly what it’s like to have Hannibal in my head. I lived with him, remember? He made me envision killing my father over and over again, Will, and you know what the worst part is? I enjoyed it. I couldn’t resist it either. I loved him, Will. Like a father. I wasn’t able to resist him, in that final moment. I just walked straight up to him, knowing he was going to kill me, just like my father tried to do. I know more than anyone else in your life what it’s like to be drawn to him. But Will, I don’t want you doing something you’ll regret. I-” 

“Abigail, stop. I appreciate what you’re saying, but you don’t understand all of it. I don’t only want to avenge you, it’s more than that. Hannibal is my reflection, my identically different other half. We will always, always be intricately fused, my heart to his heart, his soul to mine. And that- that is why I have to do this. I’m afraid that if I don’t, I’ll lose myself completely. He and I will ruthlessly decimate anyone who ever opposed us, and the bloodshed would be ceaseless, eternal. Killing him is the only choice I have, the only one I ever had.” 

Will glanced back down at the knife in his hand. 

“This is the same knife I tried to use on him in Italy. He said the knife was my forgiveness.” He looked over at Abigail, expression solemn. “It is my forgiveness, Abigail. This is the only way I can forgive Hannibal for his influence over me, over my life. Over your life. Hannibal will die soon, either by my hand or by some impersonal, unceremonious lethal injection. I’m giving Hannibal the ending he deserves.” 

Abigail smiled at him sadly. 

“It seems he has made you a killer yet, Will,” she said. And then she was gone. 

****

Hannibal’s execution was scheduled for tomorrow morning at 10am. Will had told Jack he’d be attending, and Jack had said the same. Will wondered what Jack would think when he heard the news of Hannibal’s premature death and if he’d suspect Will immediately. But ultimately, Will didn’t really care. 

Will hadn’t slept at all during the night. He’d sat on his porch steps throughout the entire night before the rising sun had finally jolted him to the realization he hadn’t moved in hours. 

Will’s heart ached , more than he had even thought was possible. There was a tightness in his chest that pulled at his lungs every time he took a breath, and a slight shake that persisted in his hands. Every time he had attempted to kill Hannibal, he had faced major indecision, regret, and raging emotions. But this time- knowing that Hannibal was in love with Will, and having acknowledged to himself that he was in love with Hannibal too- made it that much more difficult. 

Although the thought of walking into the prison tonight and taking Hannibal’s life was exhilarating and filled him with a sense of righteousness, he begrudgingly admitted that those feelings were heavily outweighed by his anguish. He felt as if he was preparing to rip his soul in half; he could already feel the tug at the seam of his soul tightening, and he’d sooner rip his own heart out than go through with this if there were any other choice. 

But there wasn’t. 

And so Will spent the remainder of the day in the stream that ran through the woods at the back of his property. He hadn’t even brought his fishing gear; instead, he simply waded into the quiet of the stream, sat down, and tilted his head back against a group of rocks. He watched the sky above him slowly darken, and tried to drown out the anxiety crashing around in his bone arena. 

He imagined what life would have been like if he had simply gone with Hannibal the night he had asked him to. They could have stolen away in the dark of the night with Abigail and built a life for themselves that allowed them to all be their most authentic selves. He imagined he and Hannibal would have fallen in love slowly, without haste, comfortable in knowing they had time to explore every small kiss, every shared smile. 

Perhaps they would have gotten a dog, or several. Hannibal would cook happily for the three of them, and Abigail would excel in college. Will’s heart would’ve been full. He would have had the family he had never dared to hope for. He would have been held by gentle hands in the night, kissed softly, and made love to sweetly. Will could have had it all. Hannibal had offered Will everything, had sacrificed his freedom to demonstrate the depth of his feelings, and Will was still going to kill him for it. 

As the sun began to set, Will walked back to his house as if in a trance. He fed his dogs, changed into dark clothing, and pocketed his knife before making his way to his car. He drove the hour-long ride in the darkness and silence, gathering every nerve in his body and uniting them in their common purpose to accomplish the mission ahead of them. 

Will slowed when he saw the signs for the prison looming ahead. He pulled his car over into a ditch about a half a mile or so from the main entrance and climbed out. He then jogged the half mile and crouched behind the trees off to one side of the entrance. Peering out to examine the gate, he only saw one man in the small office, reading a book. After scanning the rest of the entrance to make sure the man was alone, he pulled the black beanie on his head down lower and crept to the office. 

He approached the man from behind and dealt a swift blow to the back of the man’s head, rendering him unconscious. He quickly stripped the man of his clothes, taking his uniform and pulling it over himself, grateful that it didn’t look too suspicious on his narrower frame. He shoved the man’s gun in the waistband of his slacks, pocketed his own knife, and after making sure the coast was clear, he buzzed the car gate open and slipped inside. 

The sound of the gate closing behind him gave him a burst of adrenaline. He’d made it past his first obstacle with relative ease. 

The parking lot was only about a quarter full, the only cars likely belonging to the staff on duty tonight. Will made his way across the expansive lot, carefully avoiding the bright light posts posted at regular intervals. The only other light came from the full moon above him, casting an eerie glow against Will’s face. 

When Will reached the front doors of the prison, he took a few steadying breaths, trying to force his heart rate down. He tilted his chin up and puffed out his chest just a little bit, trying to mimic the exaggerated confidence the security guards at the prison always seemed to possess. When he was satisfied he’d be able to pass convincingly, he pulled the door open and stepped into the cool, clinical air of the prison. 

He strode through the lobby with purpose, keeping his eyes focused on the elevators. There were only a few officers in the lobby, milling around aimlessly, and none of them cast Will a second glance. He exhaled gratefully and pressed the button on the outside of the elevator. When the door opened, Will quickly slipped inside, not realizing until it was too late that there was another person in the elevator- and that they weren’t planning on getting off. 

The doors shut slowly and Will could feel his skin prickling, telling him something was off. The man cleared his throat as the elevator began its descent to the bowels of the prison. When the doors dinged and began to slide open, Will made to let the man out in front of him, keeping his eyes downcast. The man walked out and Will slowly followed him. But the man had paused after a few steps and then turned to look at Will in the face. When Will met his eyes, he groaned inwardly. 

It was the same officer who’d escorted him and Chiyoh that day, who had snuck Will in knowing he was visiting Hannibal. The man’s eyes widened in recognition before his expression quickly shifted in suspicion. 

“What are you doing here, Mr. Graham? Especially in the middle of the night? Chiyoh didn’t inform me about this…” The man looked him over, and after taking in the fact that Will was wearing an officer’s uniform, his hand began to reach for the radio clipped to his belt. Will saw the movement and quickly latched on to the man’s wrist. 

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you…” Will said, his voice dripping with threat. The man swallowed. 

“What do you want?” he asked. 

“I need you to take me to him. To Hannibal. I need to get inside his cell.” 

The man scoffed disbelievingly. 

“Are you insane? There is no way in hell I’m letting you anywhere near that man.” 

Will quirked an eyebrow as he stepped forward, looking down at the young officer with a growing fire in his eyes. 

“Oh, I believe that is exactly what you will be doing. Now, if you don’t mind,” Will said, drawing the gun and pointing it at the man’s head. He clicked the safety off, which made the officer wince once before nodding quickly. Will gestured to the man to move, and the man slowly turned and began to walk Will through the maze of hallways that led to Hannibal’s cell. 

The man walked with a slight shakiness, no doubt scared out of his mind by the gun Will still had trained on the back of his head, not more than a foot behind him. The way they took to the cell differed slightly from last time, owing to the fact that Will needed to actually enter the cell. The back hallways were simply transport hallways, easy ways to access the cells when needed. A few short minutes later, the officer paused outside of an ordinary-looking barred door that had another solid door behind it. The man turned to look at Will. 

“Open it,” Will prompted, annoyed at the man’s hesitation. The man took a shaky breath before reaching into his pocket to pull out a key card. The man scanned it and the door made of bars unclicked. 

Will’s heart rate began to increase in earnest. No turning back now . He reached out a surprisingly steady hand and pulled the door open. Now only one more door stood between him and Hannibal.

“Now this one,” Will ground out, gesturing to the door. The man whimpered but did as he was told. As soon as Will heard the key unlatch, he took the butt of the gun and slammed it into the man’s head, knocking him out. The man fell to the floor with a dull thud and Will stepped over his body as he slowly pushed the door to Hannibal’s cell open. 

Hannibal was standing in the middle of his cell, back towards the door, hands clasped behind his back as if he had been waiting patiently. Will drew in a sharp breath at the sight of him, unable to stop himself. Will slowly closed the cell door behind him and took two tentative steps forward. Hannibal merely inclined his head slightly in Will’s general direction but did not turn to look at him. 

“Dr. Lecter,” Will drawled in greeting, taking a few more steps closer to him. Hannibal turned to him then, coming to face Will directly while keeping his hands clasped behind him. The softest of smiles flitted across his face. 

“Will,” the doctor returned politely. His eyes flashed with curiosity and something more sinister lurked beneath the depths, teasing out an equal and reciprocal response in Will. Will held his shoulders proudly, chin inclined in defiance, demanding that Hannibal recognize him for what he was, who he was becoming . Will saw pride shine briefly in Hannibal’s eyes and his heart sank in realization. 

“You knew….” Will said slowly, mentally cursing himself for yet again allowing himself to be manipulated by Hannibal. “You knew you’d be able to goad me into coming here to kill you myself.” Hannibal’s eyes flashed hungrily at that. 

“I did not goad you, dear Will. I simply inquired as to whether watching me die by a needle prick in a banal transaction was befitting of your design. Your presence here indicates that you have other designs for me yet,” said Hannibal, a triumphant lilt present in his voice. 

Will stepped forward quickly, drawing within two feet of Hannibal. The man was so close, Will could feel the tension and electricity buzzing between them, and was full with the insane desire to flay him alive with romantic destruction. His breathing increased in pace, which Hannibal immediately noticed and took clear pleasure in. 

“Tell me, Will, how would you display me?” Hannibal inquired, his tone laced with a  jarring formality that juxtaposed the content of the question. Images flashed behind Will’s eyes, red in intensity and vivacity. 

“I would meld your earthly, physical form with the form I see of you in the realm of the shadows,” said Will quietly, gazing intently into Hannibal’s maroon eyes, which lit with curiosity. Hannibal’s slight raise of his eyebrows prompted Will to continue. 

“For years, I have seen a vision of you, a form of you… he lurks in the shadows of this world and that of my mind. He is not a man, nor purely a beast… your shadow form is a wendigo, Hannibal.” Hannibal was clearly enraptured, and he couldn’t keep the desire from reflecting on his face. 

“I would… plunge a knife into your chest, and make sure my hand was inside of you as you breathed your final breath,” Will said in a voice barely above a whisper, but the longing in his voice echoed loudly throughout the cell. “And then I would drive a pair of antlers into your skull, burying them deeply within your mind. I’d then display you upright between two trees, along the forest line. I’d ensure you were found at night, your shadowy silhouette being the only perception you imparted on any observer. The only image others would have of you is the beast. Only I could possess the memories of the man I knew you to be,” Will finished, glancing down briefly at the floor before pulling his gaze slowly back to Hannibal’s. 

“Your mind is truly a treasure, Will, unworthy of this world. I’m pleased to know that even in death, I’d never be seen only as a beast by you. If only one individual could remember and know the shape of my soul, it would rightly be you,” Hannibal said, awe seeping into his voice. Will swallowed at the admission, feeling his heart pull him roughly toward Hannibal. Will took a step, reducing the gap between them to only a foot. Hannibal regarded Will’s face before his tongue darted out to wet his upper lip, an unconscious habit he did while in thought. 

“But you don’t plan on displaying me in this way, do you, Will?” 

“I can’t Hannibal. It’s not practical. I’m not even sure I’ll make it out of here alive tonight. Maybe that’s just fine.” 

“You’d sacrifice your life to take mine,” Hannibal said simply. 

“Yes,” breathed Will. Will’s eyes flickered between Hannibal’s. His chest clenched. 

“Hannibal, your life… belongs to me. I am taking it from you; I could not stand idly by and late the state of Maryland give you an unceremonious ending. You deserve an ending more reminiscent of the crime, don’t you think?” Will said, his voice becoming more callous, though an undercurrent of passion still punctuated every word. “I would live a thousand lifetimes just to bask in the fact that your life is mine .” 

Will fingered the knife in his pocket, drawing it out slowly. Hannibal’s eyes flickered to it, immediately recognizing the blade from Italy. 

“Are you offering me your forgiveness again, Will?” Hannibal asked calmly. 

“Yes,” Will said, bringing the knife up to Hannibal’s throat, the blade poised above the right side of his neck. Will gripped the knife tightly, ready to drag swiftly across Hannibal’s throat. Will looked into Hannibal’s eyes. Hannibal did not plead with him. He kept his hands behind his back of his own volition, and tilted his head back ever so slightly, baring his throat to Will while still maintaining eye contact. 

Will reached out with his left hand to cup the side of Hannibal’s face, in a mirror image of what Hannibal had done to him on that dreaded night over a year ago. Hannibal recognized the gesture and reached his own hand up to rest on top of Will’s. Hannibal’s eyes burned in their intensity, his expression displaying contentment, awe, passion, and deep affection for Will. Will felt his hand tighten against Hannibal’s jaw as he pressed the blade into Hannibal’s neck just so , enough to draw a slow stream of blood. 

Hannibal’s face was that of pure ecstasy, more than ready and willing to die by Will’s hand. Will felt his soul begin to splinter with the force of a thousand blades as he pressed slightly deeper into the cut. In an immediate, impulsive reaction- in a desperate attempt to save his soul from severing completely- Will stilled the blade and instead leaned in to envelop Hannibal’s lips in a sharp kiss. He felt Hannibal release a surprised breath before returning Will’s kiss with equal fervor. 

Will slid his hand from Hannibal’s jaw to intertwine his fingers in the hair at the back of Hannibal’s head. The knife clattered to the floor as Will dropped the blade in favor of running the thumb of his other hand across Hannibal’s cheek. Hannibal pulled back to look deeply into Will’s eyes, expression full of yearning and adoration. 

“You dropped your forgiveness, Will,” Hannibal said with a softly amused smile. 

Will hummed in brief acknowledgement of Hannibal’s comment before gazing steadily into Hannibal’s eyes. Will felt his soul begin to slowly pull itself back together, pulled back from the brink of annihilation. Overcome by a burst of affection and desire, Will leaned in again for another kiss, savoring the taste of Hannibal’s lips. 

This time it was Hannibal’s turn to give in completely to the kiss. His hands finally came from behind his back and reached out to Will, pulling him into an embrace and holding him securely against his chest with barely restrained passion. Will could feel the energy thrumming between them, and he was still extremely angry at Hannibal. But god, his embrace....

Hannibal kissed Will softly, making Will lose his breath temporarily. Hannibal had his hand laced protectively around Will’s waist while the other cupped the back of his head. Seafoam blue eyes met maroon and Will felt so overwhelmed in the moment that all he could do was let his head fall heavy onto Hannibal’s chest. Hannibal seemed to be momentarily taken aback by the intimate gesture but Will soon felt Hannibal rest his chin against his forehead, relaxing into the embrace as well. 

Time seemed to stand still. At least up until the very moment that it did not. 

A loud buzzing sound brought them out of their reverie. Will’s eyes snapped to the gate that had opened on the other side of the glass, the entrance he had used in his previous visit. The youngish officer who Will had caught watching porn last time burst through the door, gun pointed at the glass, yelling incoherently. Fuck. 

Hannibal only appeared mildly amused but Will’s heart was racing. The officer approached the glass, gun trained on Hannibal as he spoke quickly into the radio on his shoulder, calling for backup. Will started to worry even more then. 

“Hands up where I can see them!” the guard shouted. Hannibal did not comply. 

“Jeremy, do you really expect to shoot a bullet at me through a bulletproof glass wall and find yourself successful?” Hannibal smirked.

The guard blinked stupidly, trying to think through his options. 

Will and the guard seemed to have the exact same thought at the exact same time. Sensing it on each other, both Will and the guard lunged towards the glass, each of them locating one of the hand-sized circle cut-outs in the glass. Will ripped the gun from the back of his jeans and trained it on the guard through the hole closest to him. The guard did the same but to Hannibal. 

The guard opened his mouth to speak, presumably to attempt de-escalation. And they would never know for sure because as soon as he did so, Will pulled the trigger of his gun and the man dropped dead, body falling to the floor unceremoniously. 

Will waited for the guilt to hit. It didn’t. But what did hit was a sense of urgency as he heard the sound of heavy footsteps running towards the gate. He turned to look back at Hannibal, who had moved from where Will had last seen him. He held the door on the side of the cell open for Will, a question in his eyes. 

“Going my way?” Hannibal said with a quirk of his lips. Will simply stared before nodding once. 

“Come,” Hannibal said. Will followed. 

They crept their way into the transport hallway. How Hannibal knew the way, Will had no idea, but he was hardly surprised. Hannibal led him around another corner and paused suddenly, head tilted as he inhaled the air around him. He looked towards a dark hallway off to the side, staring intently. Will couldn’t see anything. He opened his mouth in the beginnings of a question and then Hannibal’s arm flew into Will’s chest, slamming him against the wall at the same time that a loud gunshot rang throughout the hall. 

Two officers came barreling around the corner, running into the light. As Will sat up quickly in an effort to breathe after having had the wind knocked out of him, he watched in fascination as Hannibal grabbed the first man and slung him like a ragdoll into the next man. Both men fell to the ground in a crumpled heap. Hannibal bent over them, leaning over the man on top and quickly snapped his neck, the sound a sickening crunch. He tossed the man to the side in order to reach his intended prey. 

The man was still holding the gun he’d tried to shoot Will with. He was shakily pointing it at Hannibal now, fumbling as he tried to ward Hannibal off. This only made Hannibal smile wider as he crouched over the man and pulled him up slightly before slamming his head into the ground, cracking his skull open. Blood immediately began pouring from the man, coating Hannibal’s hands. Will was transfixed. Hannibal let go of the man’s shoulders and looked at him, panting heavily from the effort. Will thought it was the singularly most attractive thing he’d ever seen. 

He swallowed as he stood slowly. His chest hurt like hell. Hannibal had slammed him really hard. Noticing his wince, Hannibal was by his side in a second, expression one of concern. 

“Will? Are you alright?” he asked gruffly. Will just nodded his reassurance. 

“Hannibal. We need to go. Now,” Will said, knowing the prison would soon be on lockdown to stop them. Hannibal nodded and they began jogging back through the maze of hallways until they came to a familiar fork in the road. They could either risk taking the elevators or take the completely dark hallway that Chiyoh had said was an underground road. Will raised an eyebrow at Hannibal, who simply nodded, reading his mind. 

They ran quickly but quietly close to the edge of the wall along the dark transport road. Their footsteps didn’t echo at all, and Will got the feeling it was concrete beneath them.  

He didn’t have to guess for much longer though. Without warning, bright fluorescent lights flipped on along the entire length of the road.  

“Drop your weapons! Put your hands where I can see them, and kneel!” came the sound of a man yelling up ahead. Five or so men were running towards them, guns drawn. Will shot Hannibal a glance. Hannibal was watching Will, waiting for direction. Will nodded just once, slowly. This is it . 

Moving in complete synchronicity, Hannibal and Will charged towards the guards ahead of them. Will raised his pistol and fired off a couple rounds. His training had come in handy after all, as two of the men quickly crumpled to the ground, dead. 

Enraged by the fall of their fellow officers, the remaining three began firing relentlessly. Searing pain shot through Will’s shoulder, and he knew immediately he’d been hit. He let out a groan of pain, prompting Hannibal to retaliate against the men even more ruthlessly. He lunged forward with Will’s knife and slit the throat of the man nearest him before turning and doing the same to the man next to him. 

Hannibal turned and looked at Will, covered in blood splatter, a sadistic glint in his eye. The last man standing raised his gun to Hannibal’s head but Will shakily raised his own gun and shot at the man. The bullet hit the man in the leg and he fell, dropping his gun in the process. Hannibal grasped the gun quickly, pocketing it. He raised the knife, ready to attack once again but stopped when he heard Will’s voice. 

“No. Let me,” Will said, pulling himself to his feet and trying his best to ignore the excruciating pain radiating from his shoulder. Will walked over to stand by the man and looked down at him. The man looked up and sneered at him. 

“What are you, Lecter’s little bitch?” the man spat. 

“No,” Will said, smirking, “he’s mine.” He looked over playfully at Hannibal, who seemed less than amused. Will rolled his eyes but smiled at Hannibal nonetheless. 

“Guns lack intimacy, don’t they, Hannibal?” Will said. 

“They do indeed, my dearest Will,” Hannibal said, smiling. Will stretched out his palm towards Hannibal, indicating the knife. Hannibal placed the knife in his hand and Will turned to look back at the man. He spun the knife in his hand for a moment before he gripped the handle and plunged the knife into the man’s chest, savoring the warmth that enveloped his hand. 

Will pulled out his hand slowly, shaking and breathing erratically as if coming down from a high. Hannibal’s eyes shone and Will allowed himself a moment to bask in Hannibal’s adoration before the anger towards Hannibal from before that had been simmering began to come back with a vengeance. 

Will pulled himself upright and looked down at the mess he’d made. The man’s chest cavity had been ripped open and blood bloomed across the white concrete like a desecrated rose. A semblance of revulsion at himself was beginning to set in, but Will couldn’t focus too much on that at the moment. The blood still oozing from Will’s albeit shallow cut to Hannibal’s neck as well as Will’s own gunshot wound needed medical attention, and soon. 

“Let’s go,” Will said gruffly to Hannibal, pushing him forward. Hannibal frowned, sensing Will’s sudden shift in mood, but kept his mouth shut, which Will greatly appreciated. Will grit his teeth in pain as he walked forward but stilled when he felt Hannibal’s hand on his shoulder. 

“Will, just let me take a look at your wound, so I know how dire this situation is.” 

Will began to protest but a stern look from Hannibal cut him short and he merely nodded, unbuttoning his stolen security guard’s uniform and pulling it off. Hannibal examined his shoulder, poking and prodding incessantly which made Will want to punch him, but he soon stopped, satisfied. 

“We are quite fortunate. The bullet only grazed your shoulder. It will hurt, considering it touched some connective and muscle tissue, but it’s not too deep of a wound, and is certainly not life-threatening.” 

Will nodded. 

“Okay, can we please go now, Hannibal?” he said impatiently. 

“You know, Will, you worry too much,” Hannibal said fondly, reaching out to stroke his thumb across Will’s jawline. But Will jerked his head back from Hannibal’s hand, as if he’d been burned. He didn’t miss the briefest flash of hurt in Hannibal’s eyes but turned away from him nonetheless, sight set on the road ahead. 

They walked in silence for a few minutes before they were met with a steady incline, indicating that they were approaching ground level. Hannibal motioned for Will to get behind him and listened (and smelled) ahead of them intently. He gave Will a look that indicated more officers were headed their way. 

Sure enough, Will could hear the static sounds of police radio coming closer; it seemed the rest of the prison was slowly beginning to realize what was happening. When the officers came into their line of vision, Will didn’t hesitate to draw the gun again, taking down at least four of the guards in quick succession. 

The two of them fought through at least ten more guards before the path finally cleared long enough for Will and Hannibal to emerge from the underground tunnel to ground level. 

Will watched Hannibal as he took a deep breath of the fresh air, closing his eyes to savor the feeling of being out of his cage. Will began walking towards a nearby car Hannibal had pointed to and used his pocket knife to pick the lock of a black Hyundai. Once he had unlocked the door, he turned to look at Hannibal, who was now looking at Will with something that could only be described as unabashed lust. Will knew how he must look-- his face was covered in blood, as were his hands, and his curls clung to his forehead from sweat. His eyes were blown wide and his breathing was still ragged. It was a vision Hannibal had waited to see for a long time. 

To Will, it was not a vision worth risking their lives any longer for. 

“Get in the fucking car, Hannibal,” Will growled, jumping in to the driver’s seat. Within a flash, Hannibal was standing right up next to him, peering down at him. 

“Language, Will,” Hannibal reprimanded. “And you are not driving. You are clearly in no shape to drive, so I shall take the liberty of overseeing that particular task.” When Will just stared at him blankly, Hannibal sighed in aggravation. “Move, Will.” 

Will pulled himself out of the driver’s seat and allowed Hannibal to take over. Will settled into the passenger’s seat and anxiously looked over to Hannibal as he climbed in. 

“Where to?” Will asked. 

“Somewhere safe,” Hannibal replied, with a reassuring look. Hannibal turned to look in the car’s backseat and grabbed a plaid flannel that happened to be lying across the seat. 

“Tie the arm of that around your shoulder to stop the bleeding. We have several hours to drive and we won’t be able to stop safely for at least an hour or so.” Will nodded, about to do as instructed, but paused when he looked at Hannibal’s neck, still streaming with blood. 

“Hannibal, your throat-” 

“It’s alright, Will.” 

“No, it’s- here, just let me…” Will said as he took off the button-up security guard’s shirt, leaving just his dark undershirt. He took the discarded shirt and pressed it against Hannibal’s neck. Hannibal’s eyes closed briefly at the feel of Will’s gentle touch against his neck. Will’s eyes flickered up to Hannibal’s face and after seeing the contentment there, anger and confusion swelled within Will again. 

He removed his hand from Hannibal’s neck just as quickly and was soon staring out the window, angling his face away from Hannibal’s. Hannibal sighed and reached down to hotwire the car, and then they were gone. 

Chapter Text

A faint snipping noise woke Will with a start. He blinked several times, his eyes trying to adjust to the dim light that now filled the car. They were stopped off to the side of the road, hidden amongst some trees in the otherwise pitch black of the night. Will rubbed his eyes as he looked over at Hannibal and did a double take. 

Hannibal had the car’s sun visor pulled down and was examining himself intently in the mirror. Will narrowed his eyes in confusion before he realized  Hannibal had just cut surgical wire and was currently stitching his own neck wound, using the tiny mirror and dim car light as his only guidance. Will rolled his eyes. 

“Hannibal, do you really think I’m that incapable of stitching you up myself?” 

Hannibal looked over at him then, his eyes appraising in the scarce light. 

“You were asleep, and I did not wish to wake you,” Hannibal said simply before turning his attention back to his neck. 

“You were supposed to wake me after an hour or so… I could’ve tended to your injury then,” Will sighed. He looked through the window again. The sky was tinged ever so slightly with a lightness that paved the way for the rising sun. It must have been six hours or so since they’d been on the road. 

“Exactly how long have you been driving?” 

“Six and a half hours. I stopped briefly for some medical supplies and water, but other than that, I’ve driven through the night.” He paused and looked over again at Will, smiling. “You slept quite soundly, might I add. It seems as if that may have been the most you’ve slept in some time, Will.” 

Will didn’t answer, instead opting to pull his shirt back and check his own wound. He frowned in confusion. A tightly wrapped bandage concealed what he could feel was a neat line of stitches that now held the flesh together tightly. He didn’t remember Hannibal having stitched him up. 

“Hannibal… when exactly did you do this?” Will said, gesturing to his shoulder. 

Hannibal smirked at that. 

“I may have also purchased some heavy pain medication which would explain why you don’t remember me stitching your wound. And perhaps why you’re just now waking.” 

Will frowned. 

“You just didn’t want to hear me complain about the ride, did you?” Hannibal smiled wider at that. 

“I didn’t want you to worry , as you’re so prone to doing, dear Will. Regardless, you clearly needed the rest and I was happy to provide that for you.” Hannibal cut the end of the stitching wire and placed a bandage over it. 

“Did you just now stitch that for the first time?” Will questioned, concern getting the best of him.

“No. The cut was actually a bit more dire than I had let on. I performed some quick stitching after you fell asleep and I had the chance to do yours. I was just now feeling we were safe enough to make a stop long enough for me to provide some better stitching for myself.” 

Will nodded, his heart clenching. He still wanted to throttle the man and yet… he would be lying to himself if he wasn’t also craving to feel his lips against his own once again. He cleared his throat in an attempt to scatter his thoughts. 

“How far are we? From wherever it is you are taking me?” Will asked after a moment. 

“I am taking us to one of my safe houses, Will. One that I am actually quite fond of, in fact. I haven’t been in some time, of course, but I am happy to be returning. I hope that you like it, too,” he added quietly. “We’ll be there in about an hour. There’s a farmer’s market up ahead in a couple miles that I shall patronize, and then we will be there shortly.” 

Will nodded. Will examined Hannibal out of the corner of his eye. His eyes raked over Hannibal’s face, quietly admiring how the dim lighting accentuated Hannibal’s sharp cheekbones and yet also gave him an unexpected quality of softness. He was glad to see Hannibal had ditched the prison jumpsuit, though whose clothes he was wearing, he had no idea, and was rather content to let it stay that way. He looked alarmingly casual, dressed in simple black jeans and a dark green sweater that fit suspiciously well. His hair fell across his forehead naturally, short as it was, and he seemed to have gotten most of the blood off of him. 

Hannibal met his gaze. He raised an eyebrow questioningly but Will just shook his head and turned his attention away. Hannibal gazed at him for a few moments more before pulling them back onto the road. 

Not twenty minutes later found them coming to a stop outside a small yet charming farmer’s market. Hannibal parked the car and positively beamed over at Will. Will found it jarring, not to mention incredibly irksome, but Hannibal couldn’t be the least bit bothered. He was clearly enjoying his regained freedom. 

Will’s eyes flickered across the outdoor market, centered in a large clearing in the forest, not too far from the road. Stand upon stand of fresh fruit, vegetables, and meat were arranged in neat little rows. A few people milled about, but most of them were simply vendors setting up their own stands for the day. The sunrise cast a welcoming orangey glow across the food and Will couldn’t help but feel his mood lighten, if only slightly. 

Hannibal seemed to have noticed, too, for when Will looked back at him, Hannibal was gazing at him with a soft expression. Will smiled back before he could even attempt to stop himself. 

“There’s quite a bit I need to acquire, but it shouldn’t take me too long. Are you ready?” Will frowned. 

“Surely we can’t both go out there? Someone will recognize us and I’m pretty sure you didn’t manage to clean all the blood off of me...” said Will. Hannibal shook his head. 

“I got the blood that was visible cleaned just fine. And there is nothing that we cannot do, Will. You’ll realize soon enough. Come,” Hannibal said, stepping out of the car without another word. And true to form, Will simply couldn’t resist the command. 

Hannibal was a meticulous client, and Will soon found himself bored. Hannibal bent to examine a tenth orange, which he soon placed back down, having found the blemishes incriminating. Will sighed in impatience. Hannibal looked up at him then, his expression annoyed. 

“You know, Will, you don’t have to follow me around like a lost puppy. As endearing as it is, you clearly aren’t satisfied, so please go make yourself useful, hmm?” Hannibal said, a slight edge in his voice. He placed a basket in Will’s arms before nudging him in the direction of the fish. Will went with a huff. 

Will was putting his freshly wrapped fish in his basket when a man’s annoyed voice and a yelp made his eyes snap up. His eyes quickly honed in on the guilty party: a vendor a few stalls down was shooing away a mangy dog, who now had its tail between its legs. Will immediately felt his heart sink; not only for this dog, but for all his beloved companions he’d unwillingly left at home. 

Will made his way down to the stall and pretended to inspect some of the man’s freshly baked bread while secretly examining the dog. The dog had wandered further away, retreating towards the woodline. As the man walked away, distracted by another client, Will slid one of the baguettes into his basket and left the stall, following the dog to the edge of the forest. 

The dog snapped its head up as Will caught up with it. Will shushed the dog soothingly and crouched to his knees, tearing off a piece of the baguette and holding it out for the dog to take. The dog eyed him warily so Will tossed the piece closer and the dog swallowed it quickly. Will smiled in amusement as he tore off another piece, beckoning the dog closer. 

Five minutes later saw the dog finishing off the bread while being pet calmly by Will. The dog, it turned out, was a female border collie with a matted black and white coat. While skittish, she was also clearly young and naturally curious. Will scratched between her ears while she nosed around in his basket for more bread, making him let out a small laugh. 

“You haven’t been away from your own pack for 24 hours, and here you are, strategizing ways to convince me to let you bring a dog into our home,” came Hannibal’s voice behind Will. Will involuntarily froze at Hannibal’s use of the word ‘our’ and found himself resenting the implications of it. Will slowed his petting before pulling himself to his feet and turned to face Hannibal. Hannibal had one arm full of groceries and was eyeing the dog warily. 

“I’m not strategizing ,” Will drawled. “There’s nothing I have to convince you of. I’m bringing the dog, Hannibal.” 

Hannibal narrowed his eyes, and Will felt a twisted sense of delight knowing that Hannibal would find his behavior rude . Will lifted his chin defiantly, as if daring Hannibal to say no. 

“Will-” Hannibal began, but Will shook his head, cutting him off. 

“You owe me,” Will said. Hannibal eyed him, his head tilting. 

“I owe you? If anything you owe me, Will.” Will lifted his eyebrows incredulously. 

“Are you fucking kidding me, Hannibal?” Will began, anger starting to seep out from the wounded parts of his soul into his shaking fingers. “After everything you’ve put me through, you have the fucking audacity to stand here and tell me that I owe you ? Fuck off, Hannibal.” 

“Language, Will,” Hannibal said as his eyes flashed dangerously. 

Will took a step closer, peering up at Hannibal angrily. 

“Or what?” Will drew, his voice shaking with the force of the vibrations coming off from his angry thoughts. “You’ll eat me ?” Will said, the words dripping with venom. 

Hannibal’s eyes darkened and he stepped quickly in front of Will as Will made to move away, using his free hand to clasp Will’s upper arm tightly. 

“Don’t tempt me,” Hannibal growled. But Will didn’t back down. Piercing blue eyes met maroon, both hardened and sharp, as if under threat from the other.

“You can’t, and you won’t,” said Will confidently, smirking lightly as he made to push past Hannibal roughly. But Hannibal’s iron grip on him held, and Will felt himself pulled back closer to Hannibal. It was Hannibal’s turn to stare down at Will. They were so close that Will could hear his own heart beat rapidly. 

Hannibal pulled Will to his face roughly, catching him in a harsh kiss. Hannibal’s hand snaked its way up from Will’s waist to hold Will’s neck securely, possessively. Will kissed Hannibal back hungrily, momentarily caught up in the heightened feelings. But as he felt Hannibal’s hand tighten around his neck, Will remembered his rage and disgust and pushed Hannibal back roughly. 

He placed the basket of fish on top of Hannibal’s groceries and scooped up the dog. 

“She’s coming with us,” Will said gruffly, before turning and stomping off to the car, leaving a panting and frustrated Hannibal behind. 

The rest of the drive was silent and the tension between Will and Hannibal was so thick that Will could scarcely breathe for all the weight on his chest. 

Will had hopped into the back seat under the guise of sitting with the dog, who he’d mentally decided to name Roux in a homage to his Cajun roots. Will now found himself gazing out at the trees passing them by in a blur of green and grey while he absentmindedly scratched Roux’s ears. She seemed to be overwhelmed by the car, but had found Will to be quite calming, and was now snuggled up against his leg, her chin on his leg. 

Will cast a fleeting look at Hannibal. He had his eyes fixed on the road, his jaw still set tight. Will knew he was angry, and that he probably had a right to be, but Will simply couldn’t find it within him to care. He was still furious at the fact Hannibal had influenced him to slaughter as he had the night before. And more furious still that Hannibal had been right about him all along- Will had loved every moment of it. 

Will tried to push the thought away, for every time he tried to reflect on the reality of what he’d done- and how much he had enjoyed it- his anxiety began to spiral out of control and he felt like his world was slipping away from him. He swallowed nervously, swallowing the thoughts down into the dark pit of his soul. 

Hannibal’s safe house was in the middle of nowhere. The farmer’s market, now forty minutes behind them, was the last sign of civilization they’d really seen. For the most part, it was simply forest and winding roads. 

Though as Hannibal made a final turn, the forest began to shift into wider swaths of land, painted a dull green that seemed to blend with the grey of the sky. 

The sun was properly risen now, and Will could see the house from a mile away. The house was small and was nestled close to the edge of a bluff overseeing the expansive water. Will assumed it was the Atlantic. 

Hannibal parked the car and got out without a word, making his way to the trunk to grab the groceries. Will sighed before he opened his door and followed him out. He grabbed the basket of fish and one of the fruit bags before following Hannibal to the door. 

Hannibal bent down by one of the rocks close to the door and extracted a key. Really? How pedestrian… though I suppose he would tear apart anyone who did dare to enter … 

He unlocked the door and stepped inside, leaving the door open for Will to follow. Will stepped inside, taking in the intimate setting of the house. Off to one side, Hannibal began placing groceries away in an unsurprisingly beautiful kitchen. Though quaint and suited to the small house, the kitchen was clearly updated with the finest appliances and it was clear Hannibal saw it as a sanctuary. 

To the other side, there was a small study, with a hearth, leather chairs, and bookshelves lined to full capacity against all of the walls. A sturdy mahogany desk sat in the middle of the room and Will could see sketching supplies positioned neatly along it. 

Straight ahead of Will was a decent sized living room with an even bigger hearth and more bookshelves with assorted art pieces and decorations. Two chairs and a couch sat by a coffee table in the center of the room. To the left of the room were two more bedrooms while a third was placed off to the right. 

Will was brought back from his inspection of the house by Hannibal grabbing the groceries out of his hands. 

“Oh, um, thanks,” Will said awkwardly, unsure of what to do. 

“Your room is off the living room, to the left. You’ll find everything you need there. I suggest you rest, and I shall do the same. I will make us something to eat later on, or whenever you ask it of me.” Hannibal didn’t look at Will, choosing instead to distract himself by placing the apples in a fruit bowl in the center of the kitchen. 

Will just nodded. He began to make his way to the room Hannibal had indicated, but turned back, hesitating. He looked at Hannibal, who had his sleeves rolled up as he worked, revealing the scars Will had given him. Will shook his head as the thought of kissing the scars came unbidden to his mind. Hannibal looked up at him again, and a heat rose in Will’s belly. 

Hannibal’s eyes seemed to hold an intensity which threatened to overwhelm and devour Will where he stood. The desire to cross the distance and run his hands across Hannibal, just as he had wished for so desperately for the past several months- or perhaps for even longer than I can possibly know- welled within him with a stubborn persistence. 

And yet, Will simply couldn’t. Nausea settled into the pits of his stomach at the thought of doing the very thing he wanted. It was as if gentleness at the hands of Hannibal was too overwhelming and disorienting of a thought. He simply couldn’t handle anymore of it. So instead, he whistled to Roux, who followed him happily into his room. 

Will sank onto the bed, exhausted. He looked around the room, simple in its furnishings, but dark in its design. It seemed as if it was something Will would pick out for himself, should he have the resources to do so. 

That’s when the thought occurred to him. There’s no way…

But turns out, there was a way. Will’s suspicions were confirmed when he opened the wardrobe in the corner to find clothing neatly folded and hung that were his exact size and were in a similar style to what he’d wear, though obviously made of finer material. 

Hannibal had prepared this room for him. This was meant to be their home. It was probably somewhere Hannibal would have taken him and Abigail, when Will had the opportunity to start their family… 

Abigail . Hannibal must’ve taken her here… she probably stayed here, in fact, waiting for him. In fact, he vaguely remembered Abigail saying as much in one of the many conversations they had within his memory palace. Oh fuck… Will realized that one of the three bedrooms must’ve been designated for Abigail. He didn’t want to know which. 

Will’s stomach clenched against a fresh wave of nausea. He paced the room, his anxiety slowly ratcheting upwards. 

He noticed a pair of french doors off to the side of the room and opened them gratefully, breathing in deeply as a rush of cool, ocean air filled the room and his nostrils. He stepped out into the yard, which, besides a small patio, was simply a bluff that gave way to the ocean. 

Will walked to the edge and looked over, marvelling at the steep drop to the ocean below. 

Hannibal’s voice came softly from behind him. 

“The bluff is eroding. There was more land when I was here with Abigail. More land still when I was here with Miriam Lass.” 

“And now you’re here with me,” Will said. 

“And the bluff is still eroding. You and I are suspended over the roiling Atlantic. Soon all of this will be lost to the sea.” 

“I’m already lost to the sea,” Will said quietly, glancing up at Hannibal momentarily but refusing to meet his eyes before making his way back to his room and closing the door tightly, desperate for the relief of sleep. 

Will stood in the middle of a clearing in the forest, his skin illuminated by the pale moon. He shivered as goosebumps covered his flesh. He wrapped his arms tightly around himself, startled to find he was shirtless and was only wearing boxers. He padded across the clearing barefoot, toeing the cold earth underneath him. 

The ground seemed to cry out to him. He paused, listening intently. No, he was quite certain it- whatever this sound was- was coming to him from the ground. In fact, the sound instantaneously became many sounds, all at different pitches. It was a cacophony of screams. 

Will fell to his knees and began digging frantically through the earth. Dirt flew over his shoulder as he dug deeper, his own panicked noises escaping as he tried desperately to reach the source of the noise. 

But the source reached him first; a hand suddenly grasped at his wrist tightly and then Will was being dragged headfirst through the dirt, straight through the ground and down, down, down to the very pits of hell. 

Although there was no fire, no burning brimstone. Instead, it was just faint ghostly silhouettes floating aimlessly, screaming and moaning deliriously. Will’s heart rate sped up, the shock getting to him. Will peered at the shapes and realized with a moment of sickening horror that the tortured souls before him were his very own victims. 

Garrett Jacob Hobbs stared at him, unseeing, silvery blood falling from the ten gunshot wounds to the chest. 

Randall Tier’s jawless face swam past him, his own scream sounding much more like that of a howl. 

And then there were ten more spectres that revolved around him in a dizzying tornado of death. Each one had gaping jaws, sightless gazes, and were moaning a litany of eternal torment. They all bore the tattoo of Will’s transformation, his most agonized becoming. 

The screams increased in sheer volume as the spirits pulled at him and Will tried desperately to cover his ears until he realized the screaming was in his very own head; indeed, it came too from his very own mouth. 

Garrett Jacob Hobbs leaned in close to Will’s face. 

“See?” 

Hobbs’ face began to transform slowly and then Will was staring at the devil himself. 

“See?” came Hannibal’s voice, thick with dark desire. Hannibal’s face flickered in and out until the wendigo stood in its place, skin as dark as the shadow itself, and antlers sharp as a knife. 

Will screamed as he felt his own bones crack as he felt a strange tugging sensation at his head, arms and legs. Feathers began to sprout from his skin and he felt antlers protrude from his own head. 

Will’s body was transformed; elevated to his rightful ravenstag form. 

The wendigo motioned for the ravenstag to follow, and Will felt his ravenstag self following. The scene before them transformed as ravenstag and wendigo charged into corpse after corpose, impaling them on their antlers, relishing the hunt and the massacre that ensued. 

This time, Will did not wake screaming. Instead, he sat up slowly in bed and leant against the wall, running his hands through his hair. Dreams like this, so violent and dark in nature, usually provoked fits of screaming in Will, yet his heartbeat wasn’t even elevated. Peering within himself, Will truly saw the peace his heart now held having watched the ravenstag and wendigo hunt together at last. 

And it was this realization specifically that had Will tumbling toward the bathroom, falling to the floor in the process in order to barely reach it before vomiting. 

A moment later, Will’s door opened and Hannibal walked in, his hair mussed from his own sleep. 

“Will? Are you alright?” he asked, an undercurrent of concern in his voice. 

Will looked up at Hannibal and he could only see the wendigo. 

“Get. Out.” Will snapped, dropping his gaze once again. 

Hannibal hesitated but soon walked out of the room, closing the door behind him. Will let out a shaky breath as he tried to collect his thoughts. Roux padded over to him and nosed at his hand. He pet her head gratefully. When she looked up at him, eyes full of trust, Will rest his forehead on her head, blinking back tears. 

“Will?” Abigail. He swallowed, unwilling to face her. Not after the monster he’d become. 

“Will?” came a second voice, though slightly more coarse. Beverly?

He stood and walked back out into his room, and sure enough, Beverly and Abigail stood across from him. Abigail was looking at him with wide, doleful eyes but Beverly had her arms crossed, lips tight. 

“W-What are you two doing here?” he said, voice gravelly. 

“We’ve come to say goodbye,” Beverly said sharply. Will’s brows knit in confusion. 

“We can’t stay here anymore, Will. It’s not safe for us,” Abigail said, her expression pitying. 

Will felt his chest clench. 

“N-n-no, please, I’ve already lost you both once, I don’t think that I-” 

“You’re changed, Will. What you did to all those men yesterday can’t be construed as self-defense. You’re a killer, Will,” Beverly said. Her eyes appeared conflicted even though her words were cold as steel. She turned to look at Abigail and put a hand on her shoulder. 

“Let’s go, kiddo,” she said. Abigail nodded, and they began to turn away from him but Abigail hesitated. 

“Take care of him, Will. And… and let him take care of you,” she said with a sad smile. Will couldn’t bring himself to speak, but simply stared after them with a hopeless, vulnerable expression. 

They both turned away then, and walked a few steps forward and passed through the glass doors. Will ran to the doors and looked through the curtains after them, just in time to see their forms slowly fade away into thin air.  

Will felt depleted, but also as if he deserved to feel that way, if he were being totally honest with himself. He walked dazedly to the shower and sat on the floor under the stream with his knees pulled to his chest. He watched the dried blood that Hannibal hadn’t gotten to clean from the night before run off of him in pale pink streams. 

He felt utterly devastated at the second loss of two people he’d promised so much to. He supposed he deserved it for failing to follow through in avenging their deaths despite having made promises to do so. And perhaps Beverly was right- he was changed now, he could feel the difference within himself. It was as if he had been hovering on the knife’s edge for most of his life before he had finally come to his tipping point after seeing Hannibal be directly under threat. 

It was as if firing that first shot at the guard had caused all of the various pieces of himself to finally slot into their rightful place; as such, he felt both less himself and more himself than he had ever been before. He knew he had reached his becoming and the comfort he found in it somehow still managed to inflict such tedious discomfort. 

He eventually pulled himself up and toweled off before reluctantly pulling on one of the soft fitted shirts and dark jeans Hannibal had provided for him. He then beckoned Roux to the tub and cleaned her thoroughly, erasing all signs of neglect from her small frame. She looked like a new dog after they were through and nudged Will’s hand affectionately, bringing the ghost of a smile to his face. 

Will then spent the rest of the afternoon sitting in a squashy armchair by the french doors in his room staring out across the ocean, playing tug of war with his mind as he bounced from the one extreme of allowing himself to be delighted at the fact he was with Hannibal- and that that they had kissed twice no doubt- and the other extreme of fretting over what he had become, and the very little guilt he actually felt after having taken all those lives. 

A soft knock came at his door when the sun began to set. Will got up from his chair and walked over to the door, opening it to find Hannibal dressed in an expensive-looking red sweater and dark slacks and looking well-rested. Will was momentarily filled with an intense desire to flock to his arms but swallowed thickly instead. 

“I was hoping you’d join me for dinner,” Hannibal said, eyes raking over Will’s face in barely concealed hope. 

“Um, yeah, okay,” Will said, nodding. Knowing that Hannibal had strict opinions on appropriate dinner attire, he turned and walked back to the wardrobe and pulled on one of the soft cashmere sweaters in a dark blue Hannibal had known would be striking on Will. 

Will caught Hannibal watching him with a pleased smile on his face. Will offered back a shy smile of his own and followed him back to the small (but still finely furnished) dining room. 

“Cioppino Stew, with an assortment of fresh bass, mussels, shrimp, and squid, served with a side of Gremolata toast. A celebration of the sea,” said Hannibal, as he placed the steaming bowl of seafood stew in front of Will before taking a seat at the opposite end of the table, across from him. 

“You made a fisherman’s stew,” Will said, smirking lightly. Hannibal offered a small smile back before grabbing his white wine and inhaling deeply before taking a sip. He closed his eyes at the taste. 

Will reached out for his wine and was about to imitate him before his hand stilled, remembering his pledge to stay away from alcohol. He discreetly withdrew his hand and instead turned his attention to the food in front of him. 

He slowly took a bite, relishing the familiar and comforting taste of the sea. That Hannibal had thought of something that would appeal to his need for comfort right now filled Will with a deep sense of appreciation. 

They both ate quietly, unsure of what to say to one another with their relationship in such a precarious place. Will had offered a small smile and compliment regarding the meal, which seemed to please Hannibal well enough. It was towards the end of the meal that Hannibal had noticed Will hadn’t touched his wine and questioned him about it. 

“I, uh, am ‘off the bottle,’” Will said, grimacing as he realized just how much like his dad he sounded, except that his father had been lying when he’d said it. 

“Is that so?” Hannibal asked thoughtfully. “It seems that my rebuke paid off, then.” 

Will knew immediately that Hannibal was referencing one of their fraught encounters in the courtroom and how Hannibal had called him out for drinking excessively. Will ground his teeth in irritation. 

“It has nothing to do with your rebuke ,” Will said harshly. 

“No? What then?” 

Will clamped his mouth shut stubbornly. He did not want to have this conversation with Hannibal. Not now, not ever. 

“It’s really none of your business, Hannibal,” Will said, an edge in his tone. 

Hannibal narrowed his eyes. Will knew then that Hannibal was imagining infinite ways he could kill Will right this minute. In fact, the idea was so intriguing that Will began to plot ways he could kill Hannibal, too. I could break this wine bottle and-

“Did you drink out of fear, Will? Was it because you were so afraid of what you were becoming that you wished to drown yourself in whiskey?” 

Will eyed Hannibal irritably.

“Or perhaps you weren’t afraid of what you were coming per se, but rather were terrified of just how bad you wanted it?” 

Something broke in Will, then. Every fibre of his being knew that Hannibal was correct, that Hannibal saw Will. But it didn’t stop Will’s propensity to run from what he was, or to blame Hannibal for it. 

“I drank myself to oblivion because I wanted to forget you, that you had ever existed. That you had ever walked into my goddamned life and fucked with my head. I just wanted to be rid of you. And yet here we are,” Will seethed, bitterness etched into his face. 

Hannibal watched Will coldly before calmly standing. Will jumped to his feet, his nerves on edge. But Hannibal instead went back into the kitchen. When he came back around the corner, he carried a long, sharp kitchen knife with him. All of the alarms immediately began to sound in Will’s brain and he began to back up but Hannibal was quicker. 

Hannibal slammed Will into the wall behind him and pinned him down by bracing his arm across Will’s chest. Will struggled against Hannibal’s grip but Hannibal brought the knife up to Will’s throat and Will stilled. 

“How could you possibly forget me, my dearest Will? How could you forget when I have left my mark on your body, not once, but twice?” Hannibal slid the knife down Will’s body slowly and Will shivered. When he felt the knife’s edge sneak beneath his shirt and felt it’s cool touch on his skin, he stifled a gasp. 

“The first time wasn’t enough…” Hannibal said, tracing the knife along the scar he’d left across Will’s abdomen. This time, Will couldn’t hold back the gasp that fell from his lips. He looked up into Hannibal’s eyes, which shone bloodred as if it were a prophecy of what was to come. Hannibal lowered the knife and Will made another desperate struggle, causing Hannibal to slot his thigh between Will’s legs. 

The pressure against Will’s groin made him aware of the fact that he was incredibly aroused. Hannibal could clearly feel his erection as well, judging by the heat he saw burn brighter in Hannibal’s eyes as he pressed his thigh to Will even tighter. Will let out an involuntarily and guttural groan. 

Hannibal raised the knife to Will’s forehead, brushing the curls out of the way and traced the knife along the second scar given. 

“The second time wasn’t enough…” Hannibal said slowly. Will strained against the bulk of Hannibal’s arm and Hannibal smirked at his effort. 

“Do I need to teach you this lesson a third time, Will? I daresay I do,” Hannibal said softly, his voice laced with desire, this time tracing a section of Will’s throat. Will’s hips involuntarily bucked and thrust into Hannibal’s thigh. 

Hannibal’s lip was fixed in a small snarl as he made a light cut in Will’s throat. Will knew without looking that Hannibal had created an identical wound that would scar to match the one that would form on Hannibal’s own neck, except on the opposite side. Identically different after all . 

Will hissed in pain but nonetheless glanced to Hannibal’s lips. Hannibal noticed and dropped the knife. He wound his hand in the hair at the back of Will’s head and tugged sharply backward. Will let out a grunt of pain as his neck was bared to Hannibal. 

“What an insatiable boy you are, Will,” Hannibal said. His eyes were filled with lust and Will’s chest heaved with reciprocal desire. Hannibal leant down and pressed a surprisingly gentle kiss to Will’s lips. Will felt his insides melt under the heat growing within him and he wrapped his hands around Hannibal’s neck, deepening their kiss. 

Hannibal placed his other hand on the wall beside Will’s head, pinning Will underneath him in a display of pure dominance. Will moaned softly into Hannibal’s mouth and Hannibal bit Will’s lower lip, worrying it under his teeth. 

Their kisses became more insistent and heated and Will rutted against Hannibal’s thigh shamelessly as Hannibal reached around Will to cup his ass. Blood trickled relentlessly down Will’s neck but he hardly minded. He reached under Hannibal’s shirt and made to remove it, but Hannibal broke their kiss and stilled Will’s hand. He rest his forehead against Will’s. 

“No, Will. Our first time together shall not be done while we are angry with one another,” Hannibal said, his voice still tight with a meticulously controlled rage. 

Will’s rage, however, was far less controlled. He pushed Hannibal roughly away from him for the second time that day. 

“Well, if that’s the case, I don’t see this ever happening, then,” Will retorted, pushing past Hannibal to retreat to his room. Will slammed the door loudly with a devastating sense of finality.

Chapter Text

*********************************************

Can I offer you the finest fruit to make sure you stay?

In the end, I'll find my restitution from all this pain

From all this pain

(I'll find my restitution)

From all this pain

(We'll pick up the broken pieces)

I know it's hard to comprehend the power that you hold

But all this time I've figured out that I need you home

• Restitution, song by Eleven Point Two

*********************************************

A slammed door was hardly an effective barrier against someone like Hannnibal. Not five minutes after Will had retreated to his room in his fit of anger, Hannibal had knocked lightly and pressed inside without waiting for a response. Will glanced up at Hannibal from his perch on the chair by the french doors, moonlight casting an eerie shadow across his face. Will sighed but didn’t bother telling Hannibal to leave. 

“Will, come here please,” Hannibal said softly. Will’s eyes flickered up to Hannibal’s face but could see nothing; as usual, Hannibal’s face was carefully guarded, the mask having slid back into place. Will noticed that Hannibal was holding a kit of medical supplies and was reminded of the gash in his neck that he’d forgotten in his surge of adrenaline. Will stood and walked over to Hannibal, who guided him into Will’s bathroom. 

Hannibal glanced at Will, an unspoken reprimand in his eyes. Will narrowed his eyes in confusion but followed Hannibal’s glance to the several towels that littered the bathroom floor. Will tried to suppress a smile but found he couldn’t and soon found himself letting out a breathy laugh. Hannibal frowned in response. 

“Please enlighten me as to how you’ve managed to turn this place into a hovel already,” Hannibal said. 

“It’s not a hovel , Hannibal. I was bathing Roux earlier today and she got really hyper and made a mess,” Will said, laughing. At the sound of her name, Roux stopped playing with one of Will’s socks and looked over at them in curiosity, which only made Will laugh harder. Hannibal seemed unimpressed but at the sound of Will’s laughter, the corners of his eyes crinkled and he smiled lightly. He shook his head. 

“Now let’s get you cleaned up, hmm?” Hannibal said, gesturing to Will’s neck. Will nodded and Hannibal took a step closer, placing his hands at the bottom of Will’s sweater. He looked at Will, a question in his eyes. Will swallowed nervously but nodded anyway. 

Hannibal slid his arms under Will’s shirt then and pulled it over Will’s head. Will could feel the heat of Hannibal’s gaze before he saw it. Hannibal’s eyes shone with barely restrained hunger as his eyes rove over Will’s chest, drinking in the sight of every curve, every imperfection, every inch. His gaze hovered especially over the raised pink line of his scar on Will’s stomach before he finally brought his eyes back to the task at hand. 

He cleaned the wound methodically, but his touch felt anything but clinical to Will. Will felt as if every touch of Hannibal’s skin to his was fuel to the fire growing deep within him. He bared his neck to Hannibal as he stitched it, their eyes meeting frequently as the air grew thinner between the two of them, causing Will’s breath to hitch. 

But then, Hannibal was done. He placed a bandage over Will’s stitches and sighed. 

“Will, I know the past day has been a lot for you. I know you well enough to know that you’re taking it out on yourself even more so than you’ve been doing to me. But Will, you cannot run from this. I will not let you. We will talk about all of this, but first get some rest, please. I am right across the hallway should you need anything,” Hannibal said, before leaning forward to place a chaste kiss to the top of Will’s forehead. 

Warmth flooded Will’s senses at the gentleness of the gesture and he held back a sob at the memory of how desperately he’d wished for this moment as he’d watch Z planting kisses to Jimmy’s forehead at Alana and Margot’s wedding. Therefore it hurt all the more when Hannibal pulled back and Will’s heart felt like it was breaking all over again just to be separated from him again but he simply nodded instead and Hannibal took his leave. 

The prospect of sleep after everything that had happened seemed impossible. Will laid in his bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. Inside his memory palace, he ran from room to room, desperately searching for Abigail. He called her name into the cavernous recesses of his mind but no response came. Beverly likewise couldn’t be found. 

The loneliness that accompanied this realization was suffocating and Will felt overcome with a desire to claw at his chest to relieve the pressure on his heart. Images of Hannibal leaving him too rose unbidden to Will’s mind and he felt panic set in and freeze every nerve in his body. He shivered as the ice spread across his body and he longed for Hannibal’s embrace. He thought repeatedly of simply knocking on Hannibal’s door and crawling into bed with him- Hannibal would certainly allow it without question- but he was still too angry, too confused, to give in to the desire. So, instead, he turned on his side and stared at the stars. He wondered if Hannibal would be watching the stars just the same. 

Will woke early the next morning, grateful he had slept a little. Granted, it hadn’t been much and it had been restless, but he was grateful all the same. He let Roux out, dressed in another sweater that matched his eyes uncannily well, and then walked out into the living room to find Hannibal already busy in the kitchen. Hannibal glanced up at him and let out a genuine smile. 

“Good morning, Will. Please, have a seat.” Will did so obligingly and couldn’t help the smile on his face when Hannibal placed a plate of pancakes, scrambled eggs, and fresh fruit in front of him. Hannibal saw his smile and looked pleased with himself as he took the seat across from Will at the table. 

“I haven’t had pancakes in quite some time,” Will said. “It was the only thing my father really knew how to make- the kind that came from the box, anyway. By the time I was in college I had refused to eat pancakes ever again.” 

“And yet here you are,” Hannibal said, watching Will take a bite of the pancakes and hum appreciatively. 

“Yours taste much better than his ever could,” Will said, lathering butter and syrup on the pancakes. Catching Hannibal’s eye, he added, “What? I’ve got a sweet tooth, okay? Leave me alone,” Will said in mock defensiveness. 

“I know you do, Will. You always finished the desert I provided for you with a different sort of eagerness,” smirked Hannibal. Will blushed but decided not to comment, opting to duck his head and finish his breakfast quietly. 

When Will had finished, he stood and went to grab Hannibal’s plate as well, but Hannibal’s wrist caught his. 

“It’s quite alright, I’ll take care of the dishes,” Hannibal said, but Will shook his head. 

“Seriously, Hannibal, just let me do this. Please.” Hannibal paused, thinking, but eventually nodded and allowed Will to take the plates. 

“Will, when you’re finished, come join me in the study, please,” Hannibal said as he made his way to said study. 

Will washed the dishes mechanically, his mind anxiously trying to determine what Hannibal had in store for him. Hannibal had promised not to let Will run, but running is exactly what Will felt like doing. But he was stuck here with Hannibal. He had been the one that let Hannibal loose after all. He was the one that found himself constitutionally incapable of killing Hannibal, and unable to effectively ignore the love he held for the man any longer. 

“But do you ache for him?” Bedelia had asked him, back when he was so sure he would simply fade from the pain of his existence, all while Hannibal was sitting in prison, waiting for Will to come to him. Will finished cleaning and let his head fall forward as he leant against the kitchen counter, desperately willing his heart and his mind to forget her words and instead try to muster up some guilt to feel over all the lives he’d taken. But still, all he felt was guilt over not feeling guilty. 

Will stopped in his tracks when he walked into the study. Hannibal had turned the two armchairs that sat in front of the fire so that they faced each other instead, just as what was once typical for his therapy sessions. 

“No,” Will said adamantly, taking a half step back out of the study. Hannibal walked over to him and looked down at him, a slight frown on his lips. 

“Will, you are behavinging just like Sisyphus, stubbornly pushing your darkness and true nature away from you just as he pointlessly rolled his own boulder up that fateful hill. Sisyhpus was eternally condemned to do so; I am offering you a way out of that particular fate.” 

Will knew Hannibal was right- he had to face this reality sooner or later, so it may just as well be now. When Will still didn’t move, Hannibal ducked his gaze to meet Will’s eyes. 

“Come,” Hannibal said, turning and taking a seat in one of the armchairs by the fire and crossing one leg over the other. Will sighed but followed suit, sinking into the other chair and stared down Hannibal. 

“I will do this on one condition,” Will said, a rough edge to his voice. 

“And what might that be?” 

“If we do this, we both participate. And no lying, Hannibal, I mean it. No bullshit.” 

Hannibal looked over Will thoughtfully. His face betrayed none of his emotions, but Will knew he was looking for a way to maintain the upper hand. After some time, he folded his hands in his lap and looked to Will. 

“I will not lie to you, Will. As such, I ask that you do not ask any questions that you do not want to know the answer to. And there will be time for you to ask me anything you like, but at least for today, this is about you. Does this sound reasonable to you?” 

Will chewed the inside of his cheek. He supposed it was better than nothing. Stop running you coward. Will nodded slowly before leaning back in his seat, trying his best to relax. Hannibal offered him a pleased smile before likewise leaning back. 

“Tell me Will, what weighs most on your mind today? What thoughts plague your soul?” 

Will let out a breath through his nose and frowned at Hannibal. 

“Honestly, Dr. Lecter , I suppose what I feel most in this moment is a difficulty to entirely trust you, or this process, given our history.” Hannibal mulled that over for a moment. 

“Unless my memory serves me poorly, I’m quite certain you are equally responsible for the deterioration of trust between the two of us. Whether you like it or not, Will, you cannot blame who you are on me.” 

Will scoffed at that. 

“Are you serious, Hannibal? Unless I am mistaken, you did stand by and watch the fire claim my brain, did you not? And was it you or not you that encouraged me to kill?”

“Ah, but there’s your answer. I wholeheartedly admit that I encouraged you. But that’s what it was. Encouragement , based on what I already saw lying within the depths of your soul. You neglect to remember that I am the same man who watched you drop Garrett Jacob Hobbs with ten angry bullets, and the very same man still that witnessed you drop ten bodies a mere two nights ago. Are you going to sit here and tell me you aren’t a killer?” 

Something in Will’s jaw ticked as he thought about his answer. Every instinct in his body knew Hannibal was right yet he still struggled to admit it. 

“Bedelia told me that I’m not a killer, that I’m only capable of violence because of my compassion.” Hannibal nodded and steepled his fingers under his chin. 

“And what do you think about that?” 

“I think… I think she’s only half-right,” Will said quietly. “I know my violence comes from a place of compassion, from empathy. But that doesn’t mean that I’m not a killer.” 

“No, it does not.” 

“I am a killer. Especially after two nights ago. I- I didn’t even hesitate, Hannibal, and that’s what terrifies me.” 

“A killer’s instinct, as they say. But if you say you kill based on your relationship with compassion, why did you kill those men?” Will narrowed his eyes at Hannibal. 

“You know why.” 

“Do I?” 

“I don’t know, probably. That’s besides the point.” 

“Is it?” 

“Regardless of my motivations for killing them, it doesn’t change the fact that I killed them. And that’s what makes me a killer.” 

“That is not what makes you a killer. You are forgetting a major component, Will. If this recent act was one of the final stages in your becoming, think back to the very first one- the initial spark to the flame you now feel growing into a full-fledged fire within you. You know what we once talked about in my office all those years ago in relation to Mr. Hobbs. I think it’s time you admit this again, in this fresh context.” 

Will swallowed. There’s no turning back now . 

“I liked killing him.” 

“And?” Hannibal prompted, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees. 

“And I… loved ... killing all those men the other night,” Will said, voice barely above a whisper. His eyes snapped up to Hannibal’s, desperate for his response. 

“And that is what makes you a killer,” Hannibal said simply. 

“Yes,” breathed Will. 

Hannibal nodded, pleased. 

“And yet, you’ve known this about yourself, your truest nature, on some level for quite some time now. So what is it precisely that has you in anguish?” 

Will shifted in the armchair and chewed on his lip. 

“It’s the… utter lack of guilt that I felt for slaughtering all of those men… I feel guilty, disgusted, and shocked at myself for not feeling guilty about it at all. It’s like the absence of the feeling itself is tearing a hole in my chest.” 

Hannibal nodded thoughtfully. 

“And yet you’ve previously felt little to no guilt over the others you’ve killed. Hobbs and Tier… you delighted in their deaths and yet your anguish now is unparalleled. What’s so different about these recent ten?” 

Will was silent for some time, staring into the fire. He knew the answer as soon as Hannibal had asked, but he knew things would become all the more real once he answered. He got lost in his own thoughts, remembering all the nights he’d lain awake in anguish, denying and fighting the depth of his love towards Hannibal. The endless hours he’d spent of his life in the past couple of years burning with a desire always out of his reach. When he looked back up at Hannibal after some time, Hannibal was watching him patiently. Will cleared his throat. 

“They’re different because it was the first time I was killing out of my own selfish desire, from my own heart. In the past, it’s always been this idea of ‘right’ and ‘wrong’ that helped me at least somewhat justify why I enjoyed killing as much as I did. But this time… I killed because I wanted it,” said Will, “....and because I wanted you,” he added softly, averting his eyes from Hannibal’s gaze. 

Hannibal didn’t respond immediately and Will stubbornly kept his eyes turned away from him, fear building within him. 

“Will, look at me.” 

Will raised his eyes to Hannibal’s face. What Will saw made his breath hitch in surprise. Hannibal’s mask had fallen away, and Will could see Hannibal again, for the first time in quite some time. The two of them stared intensely at each other, unsure of what to do in the face of an honesty that revolved around something positive between the two of them. 

“Hannibal, I… I have no clue how this could ever be sustainable, how this could ever be… good, for either of us,” Will said, gesturing loosely between the two of them. “You tried to eat my brain in front of me, how am I supposed to not think about that everytime you touch my head?” 

Hannibal frowned, but didn’t answer Will. He tapped his fingers against the arm of the chair before sighing. 

“Will, I don’t believe that is entirely fair. I will be the first to admit that there are not a great many things that move me. But what you must understand is that I felt as if I had no other choice, that day in Italy. Whereas your forgiveness came in the form of a knife, that is the form my forgiveness took. 

“You know what I am, and why I do the things that I do, but you must know intrinsically that this was different. Consuming you was my honest way of trying to honor you when we came to what we both saw as an impasse. I hardly need to remind you that you had tried to kill me yourself just hours before. We are the same, in this respect and a great many others.

“If you are going to begrudge me for the actions I took when I felt as if I had no other choice, tell me one thing, Will. What were your motivations for coming to kill me a mere two nights ago?” 

Will blew out a breath as he leaned forward in his chair and placed his head in his hands. The dark warmth provided in his temporary escape gave Will a moment to gather his thoughts. God, Hannibal, what is wrong with us? Will pulled his head up and looked at Hannibal, a pained expression passing over his face. 

“I came for many reasons, Abigail and Beverly being two of them.” 

Hannibal didn’t respond and likewise showed no sign of remorse, not that Will needed him to. Will sighed again, knowing that Hannibal wouldn’t let him escape this answer. 

“I wanted to put an end to everything. The deaths of people I cared about. There was a significant part of myself that craved your blood, as recompense and for revenge. I also genuinely had no desire to see you die by something as cruel and cold as lethal injection from the U.S. Government. 

“But more than all of that, it had to do with us, Hannibal. I felt as if I couldn’t stop myself from surrendering to you, to… this , unless I killed you. I was desperately clinging to what you would call my ‘fussy morals.’ I was terrified of myself, scared of how bad I wanted all that you offered. And I felt like I had no other choice.” 

“See, Will? As I have informed you before, you freeing yourself from me, and me freeing myself from you- they are the same.” 

Hannibal gave Will a calculating look before letting his shoulders relax slightly. Yearning filled within Will’s heart and he was speaking again before he could stop himself. 

“Bedelia once asked me if you had ever influenced me to kill someone. I told her that no, you hadn’t, and she then assured me that one day you would. She said ‘he will. And it’ll be someone you love. And you’ll think that you have no other choice.’” Will swallowed nervously. “She was right, Hannibal.” 

“She usually is,” Hannibal said, before a small and genuine smile began to show on his face. 

Seeing Hannibal’s smile brought feelings so long forgotten that they felt unfamiliar to the forefront of Will’s mind. A feeling of true, authentic happiness blossomed in his chest. He offered Hannibal a smile in return, settling into the back into his chair, content to stay by the fire and breathe perhaps just a little more easily now than he had been able to for quite some time. 

They had sat in front of the fire in a companionable silence for some time after that, neither of them feeling particularly led to engage in further conversation. Will had stared into the flames, desperately trying to make sense of his rapidly changing feelings.  

After a while, Hannibal had stood and left to go make a phone call. Will could hear him speaking in hushed tones in a language which he assumed was Japanese, leading him to suspect he was talking to Chiyoh. As Will became aware of Hannibal taking the conversation outside, he slowly stood and began to leisurely examine the contents of the home. 

He browsed several of the books on Hannibal’s shelf and tinkered with some of the keys on the grand piano that sit in the living room before eventually letting his curiosity lead him to peer into the bedroom that Hannibal had been sleeping in. It looked quite similar to his own, was meticulously arranged, and was devoid of any objects of sentimental value. 

There remained one room, however, that Will had refused to examine. The room on the other side of the house most surely had belonged to Abigail at some point. Will found that in the present moment with Hannibal being otherwise occupied, the temptation to peer inside was far too overwhelming. 

He pushed the door to this final frontier open and immediately felt his heart sink. The air in the room seemed to teem with Abigail’s life-force, as if parts of her soul were still suspended in this liminal space. 

A light blue comforter was draped across the bed and there were still a few of her personal possessions that sat throughout the room. He absently ran his hands across a throw blanket at the foot of her bed and tried once again to call out to her in his memory palace. She did not answer. Despite how close he felt to her here in this space, he knew then that he truly would be unable to regain that connection with her. 

“Take care of him, Will,” she had said. “And… And let him take care of you.” He nodded, praying that somewhere she could see him acquiescing. I promise you, Abigail. I will do everything in my power to heed the final words you left for me . It seems as if I’m incapable of doing anything else. 

Will took a final glance around the room before shaking his head, coming to a decision. He realized that his becoming had come at a cost. He wished it hadn’t demanded Abigail, but he also couldn’t find the energy to lie to himself and act like he would do anything different if given the chance. He would always, always, choose Hannibal. Whether he wanted to or not. And yet every moment that ticked by seemed another step closer to Will actively wanting to choose Hannibal. 

When the late afternoon began to turn into early evening, Will made his way into the kitchen. Hannibal was just beginning to pull out ingredients for whatever he had in mind for dinner, but Will walked up to him and placed a hesitant hand on Hannibal’s forearm. 

Hannibal turned to him in curiosity, eyes carefully guarded due to Will’s lack of consistency when it came to showing affection, much less initiating contact. 

“Will? Is something wrong?” Will offered a half smile and shook his head. 

“No, nothing’s wrong. But I was wondering if I could be of any help tonight?” 

“Thank you, Will, I appreciate it, I do, but just relax. I’ve got this all suitably handled,” Hannibal said, gesturing to the various vegetables and chicken he’d pulled out. 

“Are you sure? I feel so useless, I-” 

“Will, I assure you, everything is fine. Thank you,” Hannibal says, smiling fondly and he reached out to cup Will’s jaw affectionately. Will froze at the contact before jerking his head back. Hurt flashed briefly in Hannibal’s eyes but he quickly rearranged his features into a mask of cool indifference. The rapid change was so jarring that Will took a step back, confused and hurt himself, torn between desire to draw Hannibal in and simultaneously push him back out. 

In the end he huffed in irritation and retired to the couch to anxiously read through TattleCrime and various other (more reliable) news sources. He chewed on his fingernails as he read how the FBI had issued a state of emergency and promptly put Will back onto the no-fly list with Hannibal. Though he was glad to see that it seemed as if they were grasping desperately at nonexistent clues, he couldn’t help but spend a considerable length of time reflecting on their likelihood of staying out of the FBI’s reach. He tried his best to avoid admitting to himself that it was because he longed to keep Hannibal safe even more so than himself. 

The rest of the evening was spent in an uncertain, tumultuous atmosphere. They talked amicably about a few topics, but devolved into defensiveness with others and Will decided before too long that it’d gotten to a tiresome level, so he made excuses and retreated to his room for the night. 

But the familiar, overwhelming loneliness soon sank back into his bones and steadily filled the air with its toxins, causing Will to twist and turn restlessly. After four of these excruciating hours, his earlier promise he’d made to Abigail came back to the forefront of his mind. He’d promised her he’d let Hannibal take care of him. And right now, he needed Hannibal. 

Will crawled out of his bed and pulled on one of the more oversized sweaters he’d found that he’d started to take quite a liking to. He shuffled across the hall and stood in front of Hannibal’s door, which was cracked open, and listened closely. He was pretty sure Hannibal wasn’t asleep but knocked on the door lightly anyway. 

“Will? You may come in,” Hannibal said, not a trace of sleep in his voice. Definitely not asleep then . 

Will pushed the door open and stood awkwardly in the doorway, unsure of what exactly to say. He cleared his throat, trying to find the words, but stuttered with uncertainty. Hannibal pulled back the sheets and slid over, leaving room for Will next to him. 

“Come,” Hannibal said simply, his voice softly reverberating throughout the room. Grateful for Hannibal’s initiative, Will simply nodded in the dim light of the moon and walked towards the bed. He sank under the covers and laid flat on his back, staring at the ceiling, tense in anticipation for Hannibal’s questions. 

And yet none came. Hannibal simply tucked the sheets tighter around Will and laid on his back as well, staring at the ceiling. 

“Hannibal?” 

“Yes?” 

“Did you see Mischa in your memory palace often after you first lost her?” Will asked, his voice soft and vulnerable as he kept his eyes trained stubbornly on the ceiling. Hannibal didn’t answer for so long that Will assumed he simply wouldn’t until he finally heard Hannibal’s own voice tinged with softness permeate the space around him. 

“Initially, yes. I spoke to her almost every day, in fact.” 

“But you don’t see her anymore?” Will asked, his voice wavering. More silence. 

“No,” came the eventual reply. Will swallowed thickly. 

“Beverly… and Abigail… they left me. Yesterday. They told me they couldn’t stay, that it was no longer safe for them. And then I watched them disappear in front of my eyes. And I have been crashing through my memory palace desperately searching, calling out to them, and they no longer answer. They’re… gone,” Will said, his voice cracking at the end. 

Hannibal hummed in thought and hesitantly placed his own hand near Will’s, though he kept them far enough away from touching. Will assumed this was Hannibal’s way of asking for permission, so he slowly brought his own hand closer to Hannibal’s, letting their pinky fingers touch as a sign of consent. Hannibal interpreted the gesture correctly and took Will’s hand in his own, intertwining their fingers together. 

“There are holes in the floor of our minds, places we cannot safely go. Some memories aren’t made to be re-lived, Will. Some are simply meant to be tucked away, quietly cherished, without being dwelt upon. This was the case with my Mischa,” Hannibal adds, his voice uncharacteristically vulnerable. Will could feel his own heart clench, the desire to comfort Hannibal melding with his desire to be comforted himself. 

“I am afraid that them leaving me means I’ll forever be alone,” Will spoke quietly, unable to resist voicing the fear building within him. 

Hannibal’s hand tightened its grip on his and Will felt the mattress dip underneath him as Hannibal turned toward him, propping himself up on one elbow to look down at Will. His eyes traced the planes of Will’s face, illuminated by the glow of the moon above them. 

“Will, my beautiful boy, you are not alone now and never will be. I reside beside you and inside you. I am present in the air you breathe and the memories you have yet to make. You are part of me, melded into the very fibres of all that I am. Soul of my soul, you are not alone.” 

Will couldn’t help but blink furiously against the tears that threatened to spill at Hannibal’s words. He let out a strangled half-cry, half-laugh. 

“Is that a threat or a promise?” 

“Yes,” Hannibal replied simply, a smile apparent in his voice. Will smiled and attempted to sniffle discreetly, but promptly gave up the act when he felt Hannibal let go of his hand and spread it out to his side, opening up his chest to Will. Will hesitated but found himself unable to deny himself the comfort he so strongly desired. 

Will turned on his side and laid his head gently on Hannibal’s chest, shifting so that his head came to rest under Hannibal’s chin. Hannibal hesitated, taken aback, but then pressed his face against Will’s hair and ran his hand up and down Will’s back soothingly. Will wrapped his arm around Hannibal’s waist and inhaled deeply, incredibly comforted by Hannibal’s warm scent enveloping his senses. 

“Never let me go,” Will whispered some time later so softly that Hannibal had to strain to hear it. 

“Never,” Hannibal replied reassuringly, gripping Will to his side in an equally vulnerable, albeit unspoken, desperation. Will sighed in contentment and felt himself begin to drift into an easy sleep to the sound of Hannibal’s heartbeat. The sound of home.

Chapter Text

***********************************************

“Love is, that you are the knife which I plunge into myself.” 

• Franz Kafka

***********************************************

Will rapidly blinked his eyes as he tried to adjust to the early morning light pouring into the room from the nearby window. Sunspots danced across the room and fell gently against Hannibal’s face, slack in sleep. Will gazed at him from where he rested his head on his own pillow, quietly committing every line, angle, and curve of his face to memory. 

He shifted softly, slightly uncertain with how he felt regarding the position he now found himself in. Granted, Will was painfully aware of how deep his love ran for Hannibal, but he simply hadn’t expected nor prepared himself for the more tender and softer sides of their relationship. 

He had come to associate Hannibal's touch and very presence with an intense combination of comfort and pain. Every time Hannibal had endeavored to hurt Will, he had always offered affection and raw intimacy alongside it. Hannibal, with his hair slightly tousled from sleep, now emanated a softness that, without the accompanying pain, was unfamiliar to Will. He wasn’t so sure he could have one without the other. 

As his uneasiness grew, he slid quietly from the bed and padded to the door, easing it open and walking out to the kitchen. He let Roux out into the yard to run around while he began looking through the cabinets in the search for coffee. He frowned when he couldn’t find any instant grounds, scoffing grumpily in the direction of the pretentious espresso machine 

“What are you engaged in such a desperate hunt for, Will?” came Hannibal’s voice behind him. Will stiffened briefly and turned to him, offering a shy smile. 

“Coffee?” 

“What’s wrong with the espresso beans?” Hannibal asked. 

“Oh, um, nothing, I just… am not… familiar with making espresso…” Will said, his cheeks heating in embarrassment. 

“It is no problem. I shall make it for you. You need only ask me, Will,” Hannibal said, lightly placing his hand against the small of Will’s back as he moved past him to grab the beans and pour them into a grinder. Will watched Hannibal pack the shots with a budding sense of irritation. 

“I don’t need you to do everything for me, Hannibal.” 

“Whatever are you talking about? You just stated you were unfamiliar with making espresso, I am simply trying to help you,” Hannibal said, raising an eyebrow at Will. Will sighed in aggravation. 

“I just feel useless, I suppose. You’ve done everything to take care of us and I appreciate it, I do, but I just feel like I’m not contributing anything here,” Will said quietly, gazing stubbornly at the floor. 

Hannibal placed the two mugs of espresso down and came to stand directly in front of Will. He didn’t say anything, waiting for Will to look up at him. When Will finally did glance up at him, Hannibal snuck his hand under Will’s chin, holding it there. 

“You are not useless, Will. I genuinely enjoy providing for you in all of the ways I know how. Let me take care of you,” Hannibal said. Will gazed into his eyes, which appeared more brown with specks of gold than maroon today. Let him take care of you, Abigail’s words repeated in his ears and Will sighed softly, closing his eyes and nodding. 

“Good boy,” Hannibal said, his lips curving slightly upwards. Hannibal gazed at him with a passion so intense that Will worried he was going to try to kiss him again, which was something Will wasn’t ready to explore again quite yet. Hannibal seemed to sense that though and wrapped his arms around him instead, pulling Will against his chest in order to rest his chin on his head. Will let himself relax in the embrace, leaning into the warmth of Hannibal’s chest. 

“Besides, I think I may have just the thing in mind to make you feel useful again,” Hannibal said, pulling back to look at Will. 

“Oh yeah? What’s that?” Will asked, curious. 

“I’ll show you,” said Hannibal before turning to walk out of the kitchen. 

Hannibal showed Will to a closet off of the living room that Will hadn’t yet had the chance to explore. Hannibal motioned to the door and Will took a step forward hesitantly before opening the closet and turning on the light. What he saw rendered him speechless and he took a moment to collect his thoughts before turning to Hannibal with a soft smile. 

“Thank you, Hannibal,” he said before surprising himself and Hannibal by taking Hannibal in his arms in a tight embrace. He pulled back relatively quickly and looked away from Hannibal’s smirk as he blushed. 

Will turned back to look at the closet, fully equipped with a wide variety of fishing gear. That Hannibal had taken the effort to ensure Will was happy touched him deeply. He reached out a hand and ran it along one of the poles, idly musing over whether or not Hannibal knew how to fish. 

“Hannibal?” 

“Yes, Will?” 

“I appreciate the thought, but I don’t know exactly where you think I’m going to fish? The pole’s not exactly long enough to reach down the side of the cliff,” Will said with a playful smile. Hannibal rolled his eyes fondly. 

“As it so happens, I do actually own a boat that is currently docked about two miles or so down the coastline.” Will’s eyes lit up at this and Hannibal did not fail to notice, of course. He smiled indulgently. “And I will certainly show you someday soon but there is actually a place nearby I think you’ll enjoy much more. And you can make yourself ‘useful’ as you say by catching us dinner,” Hannibal said. Will smiled and nodded, a genuine happiness beginning to bloom in his chest.  

After Hannibal prepared them breakfast, he began to pack the car with an assortment of materials he insisted on taking to wherever it was they were going. Which meant that he packed several thick blankets, a large cooler of water, snacks, and his sketching materials before informing Will it was his turn to pack anything he wanted to bring. Will picked out a couple different poles and grabbed the waders and packed it all into the car before calling Roux and hopping in himself. 

The drive was actually relatively short and about ten minutes later, Hannibal turned down a dirt path in a more heavily wooded area off the main road. The twisting, winding path eventually gave way to an idyllic clearing in the center of the woods, complete with a steady stream that emptied into a pond. Will sucked in a breath at the sight- it was beautiful . The trees were thick enough to provide ample shade from the sun while still allowing a perfect view of the clear sky and the grass was just beginning to show the first signs of spring with its light green coloring. 

Will could feel Hannibal watching him out of the corner of his eye so Will turned to him and smiled again, hoping that the gesture would convey his appreciation. Hannibal flashed him a fond smile in return before stepping out of the car and beginning to unpack everything. 

Five minutes later saw them stretched out on a large, thick blanket next to the stream. The quiet gurgling of the water was incredibly peaceful and Will sighed in contentment. He felt as if he needed a place like this, an ideal place to decompress. 

However, the allure of the pond was simply too much to bear and Will quickly cast aside the desire to relax as he pulled on the waders (which fit perfectly of course) and reached for the tackle box to select a fly. He froze as his eyes landed on a fly with red and spotted feathers. He picked it up gently and examined it intently. He looked over to Hannibal, who was watching him with a blank expression. 

“This is mine,” Will said. 

“Yes. I have made it quite clear that this was all intended for you,” Hannibal said, his eyes not leaving Will’s. Will narrowed his eyes, running his fingers over the fly. He’d know his own work anywhere . 

“Hannibal. I meant that I made this fly. How long have you had this?” 

Hannibal blinked slowly before drawing a breath. 

“Since your imprisonment years ago.” 

“Why…?” Will asked, confused. Hannibal tilted his head. 

“I told you I prepared a place for you. I wanted things to be… familiar for you.” 

Oh. Will nodded, his heart twisting at the reminder of what could’ve been. He shook the thought away stubbornly. What matters now is what could become, together . 

“You’re all that I’d need for a place to feel familiar, Hannibal. I hope you know that,” Will said quietly before pulling himself to his feet and wading into the water. 

They spent quite some time by the water, Hannibal stretching his long limbs out on the blanket as he leisurely sketched and Will fished contentedly. Every so often, Will would glance over at Hannibal and feel his heart stumble as if he were a young man once again, nervously asking the girl in his class out on a date. The ridiculousness of the situation made Will shake his head fondly, which caught Hannibal’s eye and caused him to look up in curiosity. 

“Thinking of me, Will?” he asked, a smirk on his face. Will spared him another glance before turning to watch the fish he was reeling in. 

“No,” said Will, though he couldn’t keep the laughter out of his voice. He walked back towards Hannibal then and deposited the freshly caught fish in the cooler with the couple others he’d managed to catch. Not too bad.  

“Come sit with me, Will,” Hannibal said, gazing up at him. There’s that damn fluttering heart again. Get a grip. Will nodded and slipped out of his waders before plopping down next to Hannibal. He glanced over at the sketch Hannibal had been working on. It was of Will, of course, as he stood in the middle of the pond, face relaxed and vaguely… happy. Will furrowed his brow. 

“Is it that terribly bad?” Hannibal asked him, a playful tone apparent. Will shook his head. 

“No, it’s amazing, naturally, it’s just… I don’t remember a time where I ever looked so peaceful. Content ,” he said, drawing out the word slowly, as if it were unfamiliar as the feeling itself. 

Hannibal hummed noncommittally. 

“I hardly find the change surprising. You have spent the majority of your life running from realization and denying yourself actualization. You caged yourself within your own body and even when the door was opened, you still kept one foot firmly planted within. And yet these past few days, you have allowed yourself to experience yourself as you truly are; you finally took that step out of Plato’s cave and here you are, bathed in the light of self-knowledge and expression.” 

Will ran a finger along the soft edges of the blanket underneath him and squinted at something (nonexistent) in the distance. He sighed as he realized Hannibal was right and nodded slowly. Hannibal closed his sketchbook and poured Will some water. 

“You want such sweet and easy peace, Will. Yet our greatest poets and philosophers would remind us that anything worth having is never won without a brilliant and bloody war. So much sweeter is the victory, then. You have agonized and turmoiled in your becoming, though I daresay you would not accept it any other way, would you, dear Will?” 

“No, I suppose not,” Will said quietly after some time, acquiescing. “But you would hardly have had it any other way, either,” he added, with a hint of bitterness. Hannibal looked at him again, expression intense. 

“No, hardly not,” Hannibal agreed, without a trace of self-consciousness. “But you are beautiful in tragedy, stunning in suffering. It would be a crime not to bear witness to the art you are, in all its forms.” 

“Yeah, and perhaps even form some of the conditions that led to that ‘art’ yourself,” Will said, only slightly annoyed. But Hannibal only smiled back, unperturbed. Will caught his eye and smiled back, surprised to find that the anger that normally boiled over whenever references were made to past abuses was minimal. 

Hannibal was gazing at Will again with unfiltered longing and Will felt himself redden under the attention. He cleared his throat and gestured to the sketchbook. 

“I saw your other sketches of me. Jack brought a box of your stuff over to me after you were sentenced,” Will said. 

“Ah, the good Uncle Jack,” said Hannibal, amusement written on his face. “And what did you think?” 

“I had no idea you saw me like that. The man I see in your sketches… that man is not me,” Will said. 

“Oh, but it is, Will. And I have every confidence that you will come to see that man as yourself too, once you stop hating the man you see in the mirror. Even now, I can still tell that you long to smash the mirrors in our home when it is your gaze you see reflected back-” 

“I don’t long to smash them because it’s my gaze I see reflected back, I long to smash them because it’s yours ,” Will snapped. Hurt flickered across Hannibal’s face, etched into his microexpressions, before his mask slid into place and Will was staring at a blank expression once again. But Will had seen the hurt and the answering gash that buried itself in Will’s own heart brought him to his knees. 

“Hannibal, I’m sorry-” 

“It’s fine, Will, no need to apologize,” Hannibal said stiffly. Will’s heart twisted again. 

“No. Hannibal, I really am sorry.” Will reached out and laid a hand tentatively on Hannibal’s arm, causing him to flinch slightly. Will’s eyes widened at the sight, never having seen Hannibal demonstrate such a vulnerable reflex. He held his arm tighter. 

“Hannibal. I meant it when I said I am content here. Content with you . You were correct in saying I spent so long denying my own inclinations, but that extends beyond just those of a deadly nature. It extends to you, and my feelings about you. My feelings for you,” Will said, surprising himself by the confession. Hannibal looked at him again and softened his gaze slightly. Will sighed. 

“I chose this future with you. I chose it when I broke into that cell that night, knowing deep down I’d never be able to kill you. I chose you when I dropped my knife and kissed you instead. And then I chose you ten more times as I dropped ten bodies on the way to break you out of there. And I’ve been choosing you every day since.

“I just need more time, Hannibal. You promised you wouldn’t let me run and I’m not asking you to. I don’t want to run. Not anymore. But I just need more time before we progress our relationship… physically, or otherwise,” Will said, his ears turning bright right as he mentioned the part about physical intimacy. Hannibal smiled at him and reached out his hand to lay lightly on top of Will’s and rub soothing circles into his skin. 

“Then time you shall have, Will.” Hannibal grabbed Will’s hand and brought it to his lips, planting a chaste kiss on his knuckles. Will felt his breath catch at the sight and he looked to Hannibal who looked back with flames dancing in his eyes. 

“I have earned your hate. Now let me earn your love,” Hannibal said, bending his head to kiss Will’s hand tenderly again. Will found in that moment that speech eluded him and he could only manage to nod weakly. 

***

The next two weeks passed by quickly, and yet Will felt as if time stood still at their little  house by the sea. Despite the rockiness of the first week following their escape, the two of them established an atmosphere comparable to the period of time following Will’s murder of Randall Tier, though with much more honesty between them both this time around.

While there was considerably less anger in the air, the tension between the two of them had perhaps doubled to make up for it. Hannibal had been quite serious about his promise to earn Will’s love, and Will found himself incredibly- annoyingly - charmed by all the extra lengths to which Hannibal goes, whether it be reciting poetry to Will by the fire in the evenings or romantically recounting the way he first discovered he was developing feelings for Will. 

But while they have been much more forthcoming with each other, there are several things which go unspoken. Neither have dared to confess to one another that they are actively in love with the other, nor have they broached the subject of physical intimacy since the day Will first asked for more time. Hannibal, ever the gentleman, hardly pushed Will in any matter regarding it, but Will can feel the heat of his gaze and it’s enough to send him into a fever of his own. 

Will had remained unable to summon the courage to face the overwhelmingly tender side of their relationship and as such, it had now been two weeks since the last time they had kissed, when Will had stormed off in anger. Will had initially been more than willing to let their relationship progress through hatefucking, though he eventually agreed with Hannibal- he wanted their first time together to be free of the long shadow that hate cast. And Will could now say that hate was the last very last thing on his mind when he came to Hannibal. 

Though Will had still resisted to even initiate a kiss in the past two weeks, he had found himself unable to keep his own hands off of Hannibal. Will had not returned to his own room after that first night that Hannibal had welcomed him into his bed. Though Will had told himself the morning after that he’d return to his own bed that night, by the time night came around, Will found himself awkwardly hovering by Hannibal’s door. Hannibal had looked at him and smirked lightly before crossing the room and pulling him back into the room slowly with a smile on his face. Will had laughed and fallen into bed before allowing himself to be scooped up in Hannibal’s arms for the night. 

And so Will watched with disbelief as the world around him shuffled and his existence became even more intimately tied to Hannibal’s. Already, when Will woke in the middle of the night in a fit of terror over a haunting memory from the past, he immediately sought Hannibal’s embrace, which was already held open for him. Will had never found the thought of sharing a domestic life with anyone to be a comforting, much less a desirable, thought. Yet now he couldn’t imagine ever leaving Hannibal’s side again. 

Now, two weeks after he’d asked Hannibal for more time, and after two weeks of Hannibal lavishing Will with romantic gestures, Will now found himself tapping his fingers on the armchair of the couch as Hannibal cleaned the kitchen. He glanced over at the grand piano and mentally steeled himself. Tonight’s the night.  

Hannibal joined him a few minutes later, toeing off his shoes as he sat near Will on the couch, huffing with annoyance at having been blocked from sitting closer to Will by a stretched-out Roux resting with her head in Will’s lap. Will laughed and then swallowed nervously, shooting a glance over at Hannibal. Hannibal saw him and raised an eyebrow in question. 

“I have something for you,” Will said, watching his own fingers tangle in Roux’s fur fretfully. 

“Oh? And what might that be?” Hannibal asked, eyes ablaze with curiosity. 

Will gently stood and walked over to the piano, taking a seat at the bench. He could feel Hannibal practically about to combust with intrigue behind him but he kept his eyes straightforward, knowing that if he turned to look at him, he’d lose his nerve. Will closed his eyes and took a deep breath before gently placing his fingers on the keys. As he felt the cool ivory beneath him, he recalled Hannibal’s sheet music for Primavera* , the piece he’d written for Will. Seeing the notes materialize in front of him, he began to play. 

Will gave himself completely over to the music, following the light melody with his fingers, letting the darker notes of painful yearning accumulate and bleed through his fingertips. He kept his eyes closed tightly, unaware of how his shoulders rocked with the climax of the piece, as if he could feel the depth of emotion that Hannibal had woven into the composition. The experience of playing it in full, knowing in the back of his mind that Hannibal was watching behind him, was a heady one and Will found himself completely at the mercy of the music. 

When Will finished, his fingers shook slightly as an overwhelming current of love, desperation, and yearning flowed through him. He took a deep breath and turned to face Hannibal, but he could have taken a thousand deep breaths and it still wouldn’t have prepared him for what he saw. 

Hannibal was gazing at him with unfettered admiration, eyes open and vulnerable. With a jolt, Will realized that Hannibal was actually crying, and the sight made his breath catch in his throat. He was filled with an overwhelming need to be close to Hannibal and so he stood and walked briskly to the couch before coming to a stop in front of Hannibal. 

“Will, mylimasis -” Hannibal started, but Will put a finger to his lips. Then he straddled Hannibal’s lap, encouraging Hannibal to wrap his arms around his waist in a tight embrace. Will then brought his own hands up to Hannibal’s face and cradled it in his hands, gazing down at a face now more maskless than Will had seen in quite a long time.  He brushed his thumbs under Hannibal’s eyes, collecting his tears before he stared into his eyes with a heated gaze and brought his lips down crashing into Hannibal’s. 

Will felt Hannibal sigh beneath his lips and Will took the opportunity to gently press inside, deepening the kiss. Hannibal reached up and carded his fingers through Will’s hair, gently tugging, eliciting a soft moan from Will. Will felt himself redden as he realized what had happened but hardly had a second to think twice about it because he was soon moaning again as Hannibal brought his lips down to Will’s neck and began kissing with a certain ferocity that made Will pliant. 

Hannibal sucked bruises into his neck, holding Will firmly in place while doing so as Will’s shame quickly disappeared and he found himself moaning louder. Will rocked his hips back and forth, desperately seeking friction with Hannibal. Hannibal trailed his hands down Will’s back and cupped his ass instead, using the leverage to bring Will’s hips more firmly against his own hardening cock. Yet when Hannibal heard the desperate groan Will made at the contact, Hannibal made a low noise that could easily be described as a growl and flipped Will onto his back on the couch before crouching over him. 

“What a clever boy you are, Will. Even now, I could still never entirely predict you. To have you here, beneath me, yearning for my touch- it is everything I have ever wanted. You are everything I ever wanted.” 

A strangled “ Hannibal ” was all Will could manage to say before Hannibal’s lips were on his own again. Hannibal slowly lowered himself against Will’s body, bringing their straining erections into contact with one another once again. Will’s hips bucked upwards into the contact and Hannibal’s hand flashed out to grip Will’s hip tightly to hold it in place as Hannibal thrust against Will. Hannibal buried his face in Will’s neck, deeply inhaling his scent and tracing the bruises beginning to form on his neck with his tongue. 

“ Hannibal ,” Will tried again, speaking between kisses. “You are everything ,” Will said, tears threatening to spill at the confession. As if sensing this, Hannibal pulled back and looked at him once again. 

There were no words to encapsulate the way the air changed around them as their mutually acknowledged confessions hung between them. There was a newfound lightness, a greater breathability. Hannibal smiled benevolently down at Will before pulling himself up. He held out his hand for Will. 

“Come,” Hannibal said. Will swallowed. 

“Hannibal, I still don’t think I’m quite ready to actually -” Will began to say with a worried look but Hannibal shook his head. 

“I know, Will. You misunderstand. I just want to lie in our bed and hold you close to me,” Hannibal said simply. Will couldn’t help the broad grin that broke out across his face. He reached out to take Hannibal’s hand and allowed himself to be led to their room, content to be held through the night by the one man who had become the only thing in the world that mattered. 

When Will awoke the next morning, he sighed deeply in contentment as he nuzzled more deeply into Hannibal’s neck, drawing a chuckle from the older man. Will leaned his head back and looked up at Hannibal groggily, which only made Hannibal smile more broadly. 

“How endearing you are, Will. Especially in the mornings,” Hannibal said, sleep making his accent thicker which Will couldn’t deny was incredibly attractive. 

“Shut up, Hannibal,” Will huffed and turned himself over so that his back was facing away from Hannibal. He pulled the sheet more tightly around him, desperate for more sleep. Hannibal, however, wasn’t so content to be rejected for anything, even if it was something as non-threatening as sleep. Hannibal turned on his side as well and drew Will backwards so that Will’s back was pressed firmly against Hannibal’s chest. Hannibal snaked his arms around Will and held him close, taking the opportunity to press his own face to Will’s neck and plant light kisses there. 

The gesture, sweet at first, soon turned to something much more heated as Hannibal began to kiss more intently, dragging his teeth along the sensitive skin on Will’s neck. Will moaned lightly, sleep rushing from his body quickly. In an unconscious movement, Will pressed himself more tightly to Hannibal before gasping softly when he felt Hannibal’s hardness press against his ass insistently. 

Hannibal sucked another bruise on his neck and brought his arm up to wrap across Will’s chest, holding him tightly to his chest. Will half heartedly struggled against the sensation of being caged in by Hannibal, moaning again when Hannibal brought the hand up from his chest instead to clasp onto his neck possessively. 

Will could hear his own breath rasping but was delighted to hear that Hannibal seemed just as decomposed as he was behind him. He experimentally bucked his hips backwards onto Hannibal’s cock and was promptly awarded with a low groan from the man. Will then found himself suddenly much less hesitant and began to grind his ass against Hannibal’s cock. Hannibal’s hand then flashed out and gripped Will’s hip tightly and Will moaned loudly when he felt Hannibal take control and thrust against him. Will felt himself begin to unravel and groaned in frustration when he suddenly felt Hannibal cease and pull away from him. 

“Hannibal, what-” Will groaned, turning to look at Hannibal, now stood on the other side of the room pulling on his clothes for the day. Hannibal smirked. 

“Ah, I can’t give it to you that easily, my darling boy. I promise you, Will, I’ll have you begging for it by the end of the week, and you know I always keep my promises,” Hannibal said, smiling arrogantly. Will rolled his eyes and scoffed. 

“No you won’t,” Will said defiantly. 

Will, it turns out, had drastically miscalculated when he had made that statement. As Friday evening rolled around, Will felt as if he was about to combust from pent-up sexual frustration. Hannibal had spent the majority of the past several days teasing Will during the day by ‘accidentally’ brushing up against him, making suggestive comments, and gazing at him with unparalleled heat that caused warmth to pool in Will’s belly. During the night, he held Will tightly to him and whispered romantic prose in a pentameter designed to drive Will mad with desperation. 

Will felt as if the inside of their home was crackling with electricity and what he really wanted was some fresh air. As they sat down to dinner that night and Hannibal sent him smoldering stares across the table, Will put down his fork and looked at Hannibal. 

“I want to go gigging.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“I said, I want to go gigging.” 

Hannibal rolled his eyes imperceptibly. 

“I heard what you said, Will, I am simply unfamiliar with the term.” 

“When you catch fish at night using a pronged spear, also known as a gig, it’s called gigging. I would like to go tonight. To the stream, if you’re amenable.” 

“I will certainly go with you, but I will not be partaking in this ‘gigging,’” Hannibal said. Will smiled. 

“Oh come on, Doctor Lecter , you aren’t afraid of a little competition, are you?” Will asked smugly, his own eyes flashing beneath his lashes. Hannibal narrowed his eyes. Will knew then he had convinced him and laughed brightly. 

“That’s what I thought. We leave at ten.”

When ten o’clock came around, Will stood by the front door and sighed with impatience as Hannibal walked past him out to the car again with yet more “essentials.” 

“Jesus, Hannibal, we’re going to the stream not a fucking roadtrip,” Will said as Hannibal walked by with a stack of thick blankets and some pillows. Hannibal shot him a glare that would have chilled anyone else’s blood but only served to make Will chuckle. 

Hannibal closed the trunk of the car and motioned to Will, who grabbed the cooler and the gigs and made his way over to the car. 

“Why do you have gigs if you didn’t know what they were?” 

“Simple. When I endeavored to build you a collection of fishing gear, I simply told the merchant I patronized that I wanted a wide variety of all they had to offer. I admit I had the slightest idea of what he was talking about, but it seems as if he did alright, yes?” 

Will felt warmth spread through his chest at the thought of Hannibal spending inordinate amounts of money just for the chance of seeing Will happy, though the feeling wasn’t unaccompanied by a certain amount of embarrassment. 

“Hannibal, you really shouldn’t have spent so much-” Will started. 

“Nonsense. You said yourself you chose this life with me, and you knew what type of man I am. You should expect me to spoil you for the rest of our lives.” 

“The rest of our lives?” Will asked back, a certain level of wonder in his tone, as Hannibal pulled out onto the main road and began to make the way towards the hidden path in the woods. Hannibal looked at him intensely, as if daring Will to contradict him. Will smiled widely to show Hannibal his happiness, which seemed to relax him. 

A quick ten minutes later they had arrived and Hannibal parked the car. Will stepped out into the beautiful night air, which was slightly cool but nowhere near the point of discomfort. Will marvelled at the bright full moon hanging above them and the sky full of stars twinkling as if they were winking down at him. 

Will enthusiastically grabbed the gigs and some of the- ridiculously excessive- things that Hannibal had brought and walked over to the stream. Hannibal followed him and looked at Will. 

“You go ahead. I’m going to build us a fire first.” 

Will nodded and pulled on his waders and walked into the stream before turning on a flashlight and beginning his hunt for sleepy fish. Behind him, Hannibal got to work setting up a charming campsite. He laid down several of the blankets and placed cushions and pillows around the edges before hauling out the firewood he’d brought and lighting a fire. 

Will turned around to check on him and smiled softly to himself as he watched Hannibal position a charcuterie board on the blanket and place a cloth over it so that it would be ready when they were done. Such a romantic bastard . 

Just then, another fish flashed by Will’s feet and Will acted on pure reflex and sent the spear plunging through the fish. He then removed it and added it to the cooler. 

“Better come catch up old man, I’m already two ahead of you!” called Will to Hannibal. Even from the stream, Will could see Hannibal’s frown, the fire casting more shadows onto his face so that he looked even more sinister than usual. 

Hannibal rolled up his sleeves and reluctantly pulled on waders as well before entering the stream to stand next to Will. Will glanced at him from the side; he could help but be embarrassingly aroused just from the sight of Hannibal gripping the spear in his hand, looking every bit the primal predator he truly was. In Will’s moment of distraction, Hannibal stabbed a fish nearby and tossed it in the cooler before turning back to spear a second one immediately. 

“Now what was that bratty comment about an old man?” 

Hannibal, much to Will’s chagrin, was actually quite good at gigging- of course he was- which meant that he ended up gigging more fish than Will by an embarrassing amount. Will glared grumpily over at Hannibal, who had removed his waders and was now lounging on the blankets, looking annoyingly attractive in the firelight and a light red sweater. Will toed off his waders and dropped down on the blanket beside him. 

“How are you possibly so good at everything you do?” Will asked, a bite in his tone. Hannibal smirked. 

“Come now, Will, don’t be a bad sport; you could hardly expect to beat me at anything,” Hannibal said, tone playful but with a hint of sincerity behind it. 

“You’re an ass,” Will replied. Hannibal clucked his tongue. 

“Language, dear Will.” 

“Or what?” Will retorted. 

“Or I may just have to take you over my knee and teach you some proper manners,” Hannibal replied. Will felt his face heat instantly, arousal mingling with a swift surge of aggression that propelled Will over to Hannibal, where he straddled his lap and pinned Hannibal’s wrists above his head. Below him, Hannibal merely smiled. 

“What a savage thing you are,” Hannibal murmured. 

Will snarled in response and bent forward, bringing his lips to Hannibal’s in a rough kiss. Hannibal immediately parted his lips to allow their tongues to slide against each other as Will bit Hannibal’s bottom lip between his teeth and pulled , enough to draw blood. 

Will pulled himself up slightly to look at Hannibal below him, lips bloody from Will’s assault on them. His face was flushed as well and he was breathing heavily with desire. Will met his eyes and felt his chest catch fire as he was engulfed by overwhelming yearning for this man below him. This beautiful, adoring, dangerous man. 

It was with a rekindled passion that Will brought one of Hannibal’s arms up to his mouth, turning his wrist inward so that Will could kiss along the scar that ran down his forearm. Hannibal stifled a gasp and Will locked eyes with him as he turned to do the same with the other arm. Will leaned back up to Hannibal’s face and pressed another kiss to his lips before pressing more open-mouthed kisses down his neck. 

“ Will ,” sighed Hannibal, the sound going straight to Will’s cock. Hannibal’s own cock gave a twitch in response, causing Will to suck in a breath as he felt the friction between them grow. Will thrust his hips forward, dragging his own length along Hannibal’s and letting out a deep moan of his own as he tilted his head back and closed his eyes at the onslaught of sensation. 

Hannibal’s hands then clasped at his waist tightly, shocking Will from his trance-like state as he was flipped under Hannibal. Hannibal pinned him down with a hungry gaze. He looked like he was starving . And before Will could even take in the sight, Hannibal’s hands were placed on either side of his shoulders and Will was pinned below him. The thought alone made him moan, which only intensified as he felt Hannibal’s hands run along his chest. 

“Are you ready, my love?” Hannibal asked kindly, taking Will’s hand in his and placing a light kiss to his knuckles. Will’s breath caught in his throat. Oh god yes . 

“What, out here in the middle of the woods?” Will asked, biding his time. Hannibal smiled and ran his hands through Will’s curls before cupping his face. 

“Will, I would love nothing more than to take you under the light of the moon, to make love to you under the stars by the warmth of a fire while the sounds of your pleasure makes music for us,” Hannibal said softly, gaze intense. Will took a shaky breath. 

“Yes. God, yes.” 

Hannibal nodded and bent down to kiss Will again. The kiss, which began gently, turned into a passionate crash of lips, teeth, and tongues as Will pulled at Hannibal’s hair insistently. Hannibal took the hint and began moving his kisses down Will’s jaw, nipping at his earlobe, and down the side of his neck. Will’s breath faltered when he felt a warm palm against the flesh of his stomach. He sat up slightly so that Hannibal could quickly pull Will’s shirt off. 

Will felt his stomach flip when he saw the way Hannibal looked at his scar on Will’s stomach. Hannibal ran a light finger over it and Will shivered beneath the touch. Then Hannibal bent down and began to kiss the scar, which made Will whimper. Fuck. Hannibal placed his hands on either side of the scar as if he were holding it in place as he gently bit into it, causing Will to cry out in pain and pleasure and arch his back in a perfect bow. 

“Beautiful,” Hannibal murmured against his skin, before running his tongue over the bite. His hands then traveled further down and he slowly undid Will’s jeans before pulling them and his underwear over his hips, causing his cock to spring free. After pulling them completely off Will so that he was fully naked underneath him, Hannibal bent down and lightly kissed the head of Will’s cock, the lightness of the sensation causing Will to buck wildly in desperate search for more . 

Hannibal smirked slightly before gripping the base of Will’s cock and then sliding his mouth over the head and then down Will’s length. Will cried out, finding the sensation of being swallowed whole by Hannibal completely overwhelming. Hannibal lavished kisses and sucked at Will’s cock enthusiastically, swirling his tongue around the head and greedily tasting the pre-come that was positively leaking from Will now. 

“H-Hannibal. Let me feel your skin on mine,” Will rasped out. 

Hannibal pulled back and gazed adoringly down at Will as he pulled his own sweater off. Will drank in the sight of the light brown and silver curls on his chest and followed the trail down to wear Hannibal’s slacks rested on his hips. Hannibal then stood and slowly unbuckled his belt, the sound obscenely suggestive in its own right. Letting it fall to the ground, Hannibal then pulled down his own pants and underwear and Will swallowed as he gazed upon Hannibal’s thick uncut cock. 

Hannibal then knelt back over Will and leaned up to press their mouths together, swallowing Will’s moan as he brought their cocks together. 

“ Fuck , Hannibal, you feel so good.” 

Hannibal hummed and began to suck another bruise, this time on Will’s clavicle. Will took advantage of Hannibal’s distraction to reach down for Hannibal’s cock, wrapping his hand firmly around it and pulled, delighted to hear Hannibal’s breath falter next to his ear. 

“Are you ready for me to make you mine, Will?” Hannibal asked softly into his ear, causing Will to quiver. 

“ Yes . But Hannibal, I’ve never… you’re the only man..” Will began, struggling to find the right words. Hannibal shushed him soothingly. 

“Let me take care of you, my dearest Will. Turn over for me please,” Hannibal said. Will blushed but did as he said. As Will pressed his chest and face against the blanket, he squirmed beneath Hannibal’s gaze. 

“Spread your legs, my love.” Will did as he was told, simultaneously aroused yet still somewhat embarrassed. Yet the embarrassment soon gave way as Hannibal grabbed his ass and pulled his cheeks apart before licking a broad swipe over his whole, causing Will to yelp in surprise. Oh, fuck . 

Hannibal’s hands dug into his ass as he continued to mouth over Will’s entrance. When he pressed his tongue just inside Will’s rim, Will moaned deeply, quivering under his ministrations. A thumb soon joined Hannibal’s tongue and began to rub at his rim before slowly pushing inside. Hannibal then drew his thumb back and pressed a finger in, causing Will to gasp at the unfamiliarity of it. A second finger was soon added and Hannibal began to scissor Will open. 

“You’re going to take it so well for me, aren’t you, Will?” 

Will moaned obscenely in response, which was then dragged on longer as Hannibal pushed a third finger inside. Hannibal alternated between fingering him and eating him out to ensure his entrance was wet enough. When a particularly well-placed curve of Hannibal’s fingers hit his prostate, Will began to thrust his hips backward to meet Hannibal’s hand thrusting into him and his impatience was met with a sharp slap to his left ass cheek. 

“Fuck!” Will exclaimed, pushing his head further into the blanket. A second slap landed on his right cheek, the sting making Will moan again. 

“Language, Will,” Hannibal said, but Will could hear the amusement in his voice. 

“Fucking sadist,” Will breathed out, earning him a final slap, harder than the rest. 

“Now turn back over for me, beloved,” Hannibal said, pulling his fingers out. Shakily, Will turned back over and laid on his back, looking up to Hannibal. Will’s curls clung to his forehead, wet with sweat and his cock leaked pre-come on his stomach. Glancing at Hannibal, Will was pleased to find Hannibal’s own cock was achingly hard and was similarly coated with pre-come. 

Hannibal knelt in front of Will and bent down to envelop him in a kiss while he pushed his fingers into him again. Will arched up, against Hannibal’s chest, and brought his arms around Hannibal. He ran his hands down Hannibal’s back before tangling into his hair as Hannibal teased a nipple. Hannibal withdrew his hand again and lined up his cock with Will’s entrance. He circled the hole teasingly, watching each and every one of Will’s reactions rapturously. 

“I need you, Hannibal. Please ,” Will said, intertwining his hand with one of Hannibal’s. 

“As you wish, my beautiful boy,” Hannibal said as he pushed into Will slowly, spreading him even further open. They both let out deep moans at the feeling, Will scrunching his eyes closed as Hannibal continued to push in until he was fully seated within him. Will gripped Hannibal’s hand tightly as his body tried to adjust to the burning sensation. Yet Will didn’t want to wait. 

“Move, Hannibal,” Will groaned, causing Hannibal to laugh lightly before pulling his cock out most of the way and then thrusting back in. 

“Fuck,” Will swore. 

Hannibal then grabbed Will’s other hand and held both of them down into the blanket, fingers intertwined with his own, as Hannibal began to set a more steady pace. The feeling of being so full with Hannibal, of Hannibal knowing the most intimate part of him, of conjoining with him, was incredibly fulfilling and Will felt as if he could sob at the thought of it. Hannibal kissed Will as he began to thrust deeper, drawing a litany of beautiful noises from Will beneath him. 

As Hannibal snapped his hips and dove his cock deep into Will, Will wrapped his legs around Hannibal’s waist and gripped his hands tightly. When Hannibal released one of his hands to bring it to rest at the base of Will’s throat in a sign of possession and dominance, Will brought his hand up to dig his nails into Hannibal’s back, leaving long stripes of stinging skin mixed with blood. 

Will’s own desperation caused Hannibal to increase his speed even more and he began to relentlessly pound against Will’s prostate. The song of Will’s moans, Hannibal’s growls, and the sound of skin slapping on skin filled the air. 

“God, Hannibal, I’m close, I think I’m gonna come,” Will said between shaky breaths. 

Hannibal reached down and wrapped his hand around Will’s cock, pumping in time with his thrusts. As Will’s moans reached a fever pitch, Hannibal tightened the hand on his neck and turned it to the side slightly before leaning over him and biting down hard into the side of his neck. The feel of Hannibal’s teeth sinking into his neck combined with the feeling of Hannibal thrusting roughly into him while fisting his cock made Will come with a cry, his back arching up as his come spilled between them in hot stripes. As Will’s muscles clenched around his cock, Hannibal thrust in twice more, his teeth still buried possessively in Will’s neck, before he gripped Will’s hip to hold him still as he filled Will with his come, delighting in the breathless sob that shook Will’s chest beneath him. 

Unclenching his hand and teeth from Will’s throat, Hannibal pulled back to look down at Will and Will marvelled at how the flames of the fire nearby made Hannibal’s skin glow. Will smiled up at him and was rewarded with a genuine smile from Hannibal as well. 

Hannibal pulled out slowly, unable to resist pushing his come back into Will with his fingers as it began to seep out of him. He then lowered himself next to Will and grabbed at the cloth that sat over the charcuterie board and wet it before cleaning up Will’s stomach. He then reached for a nearby blanket, which he pulled over both of them. He pushed a pillow under Will’s head and one under his own as well and they laid there next to each other, staring up at the stars. 

“Hannibal, that was… I never knew how much and for just how long I have ached for you. Against all logic and morality, there is no one that could ever eclipse you. You are simultaneously my downfall and yet you elevate me; you beckon my darkness and yet you offer me your lightness. Loving you means that you are the knife which I plunge into myself.” 

Will felt his chest begin to heave with emotion, suddenly quite overwhelmed by the feeling of closeness, of oneness, between the two of them. He propped himself up on his elbow and looked down at Hannibal, who gazed back at him intensely. Hannibal leant forward and cupped Will’s cheek as he softly kissed him. As he pulled back, he laid his forehead against Will’s. 

“You love me?” Hannibal asked, voice soft. Will’s heart twisted at the insecurity he could hear in Hannibal’s tone. Will grabbed Hannibal’s chin and pulled back to stare into his eyes. 

“I love you, and I see you,” Will said. Hannibal was temporarily too stunned to speak, as if he simply couldn’t believe what Will had just admitted. 

“I love you and I see you, too,” Hannibal whispered back, intertwining his fingers with Will’s curls as they laid on their sides facing each other. 

“You’re the only one who ever could,” Will said, giving him a soft smile and not even attempting to stop the tears as they began to stream down his face. Hannibal rolled onto his back and pulled Will up to his chest, running his hands down his back and against his cheek in an attempt to comfort him. 

“It’s alright, beloved,” Hannibal said softly. Will buried his face into Hannibal’s neck, planting light kisses before nestling comfortably against his chest, intertwining his fingers with Hannibal’s chest hair. 

Two figures laid intertwined beneath the light of the moon. 

Both content, having finally given his heart to the one he adored. 

The two, lying together as equals at last, victorious; transformed.

Chapter Text

“Will,” Hannibal whispered, lightly stroking Will’s curls in a soothing pattern. Will made an incoherent noise before nuzzling further against Hannibal’s chest, eliciting a fond smile from the man. Hannibal bowed his head and placed a light kiss to Will’s forehead before moving his lips down further and planting kisses all across Will’s face, causing Will to chuckle lightly before stretching languidly. 

“Why did you wake me up? Why can’t we sleep under the stars?” Will asked, cocking his head up to once again to take in the sight of bright stars stretched across the night’s dark canvas. 

“As romantic as it would surely be, we need to get back to the house so that I may freeze the fish we caught. And I am not necessarily opposed to sleeping in our own bed,” Hannibal said. Will laughed again, shaking his head fondly. 

“You just don’t want to sleep on the ground, Hannibal; it is beneath you,” Will said teasingly, flashing Hannibal a coy smile. Hannibal frowned and leaned forward to whisper in a sultry voice in Will’s ear. 

“The only thing I appreciate beneath me is you, beloved. I shall never tire of hearing you whimper deliciously while I claim you, Will.” Hannibal then slowly trailed his lips down and hovered over the swollen bite mark on the side of Will’s neck. His tongue lashed out to taste the newest mark he’d left on Will and he bit down into it again, humming appreciatively. 

“ Fuck , Hannibal,” Will groaned, tugging harshly on Hannibal’s locks. 

“Hmmm yes, that is the general idea,” Hannibal said, smiling against Will’s skin and breathing in his scent. Will found himself immediately keen for a repeat experience of what they had just shared but Hannibal pulled back, smirking. “We have all the time in the world, Will. But let us go home and sleep first, hmm?” 

Will sighed and stood, secretly glad to be off of the ground. While Will surely wouldn’t change anything about their first time together, he had to admit his bones weren’t so keen to be ground into the forest floor again. 

They packed up all of their camping materials, extinguished the fire, and made their way back to the car with a cooler full of freshly caught fish. The ride back to the house was quiet, peaceful, and Will marvelled at the utter lack of awkwardness he felt with Hannibal. 

Will had fantasized extensively about what their first time together would be like, oftentimes with a sense of trepidation given his general lack of experience with men. He had secretly been terrified that he’d feel awkward afterwards, wouldn’t know what to do, and would long to retreat. Yet Will was pleasantly surprised to note that, if anything, he actually craved Hannibal even more now than he had before. 

Will slyly placed his hand on Hannibal’s thigh, delighting in the faint quiver of Hannibal’s muscles at his touch. Will tightened his grip slightly, holding his thigh underneath his hand possessively, intent to never again push away the beautiful man beside him he had spent so long rejecting. Hannibal gazed back at him with something akin to satisfaction, though Will had a feeling it was closer to awe. He blushed and looked away quickly. 

Once back at the house, Will felt himself develop a new spurt of energy, the realization of what had just occurred between them sinking in even more. As Hannibal busied himself with placing their freshly caught fish in the freezer, Will leaned back against the kitchen counter, watching him with a smile. When Hannibal turned around and looked at him inquisitively, Will simply beckoned him closer with two fingers. Hannibal obligingly came closer. 

When Hannibal stood in front of him, Will’s hands flashed out to grab Hannibal’s waist, pulling him closer so that their hips were touching. Hannibal looked down at Will hungrily and Will brought up a finger to trace along his bottom lip as he glanced up at Hannibal from beneath his lashes. 

“I ran from you for so long, Hannibal. From myself. From us, all that we could be,” Will said, dropping his gaze as he looked at the floor in embarrassment for the insecurity that welled within him. “Are you even sure you still want me, after it all?” Will whispered. 

Hannibal reeled back to look down at Will. Will could feel Hannibal watching him, trying to calculate where the insecurity was coming from. He stilled when he felt Hannibal’s hand cup his cheek before he allowed himself to lean into it. He raised his eyes to look at Hannibal’s. 

“I assume that you are now questioning if the intimacy we just shared is yet another move in the game we play, an action I took to toy with you.” Will’s eyes snapped up to meet his, confirming Hannibal’s suspicions.

 “I assure you, Will, making love to you under the stars with you tonight was the most authentic moment I have ever shared with another in my entire life. I have no desire to manipulate you anymore. You have already become , beloved, and that was always my desired result. You have freely given me more than I could ever dare hope for; indeed, the mere chance of having you in this way was something I was quite ready to risk everything for.” 

Will swallowed and nodded, his words failing him as he found himself pinned beneath the intensity of Hannibal’s gaze. Will then leant forward without preamble and pressed his lips to Hannibal’s, releasing a contented sigh against his mouth. Hannibal cupped the back of Will’s head delicately and kissed him until Will felt his head begin to spin. Will smiled at Hannibal and twined their hands together before leading Hannibal to bed. 

Will’s footsteps echoed eerily as he walked down the blinding white of the prison hallway. White cinder blocks caged him in on all sides and he felt himself begin to sweat as the corridor ahead of him seemed to elongate endlessly. He tugged on his tie and noticed his hands were shaking. 

“Will? In here,” came a voice ahead of him. Will glanced around him but couldn’t find the body that corresponded with the voice. He seemed to hear “Will” be repeated on all sides of him and he looked around frantically, jumping when he felt a heavy hand clasp his shoulder. Jack. 

Jack led Will into a small room with a single chair facing a dark glass. Will looked at Jack in confusion and Jack just shook his head sadly as he pushed Will into the chair before motioning to two guards in the corner of the room to restrain Will in the chair. 

Will fought against them, kicking recklessly but soon found himself subdued by the two larger men. He sat in the chair heaving, glaring at Jack. 

“What the fuck is this about?” Will spat. Jack frowned at him in confusion. 

“What do you mean? This is what you wanted. This is all you, Will,” Jack said, raising his hand to indicate the dark class which then switched on, illuminating a room on the other side of the glass. 

The room was likewise a sterile white with a singular medical cot standing straight up in the center of the room, an IV nearby. Will’s head darted to the corner of the room when he saw the door open and two guards walk in a heavily restrained and muzzled Hannibal. 

Will began to frantically protest then, screaming at Jack to ‘make it stop!’ but Jack just stood, unmoving. The guards restrained Hannibal to the cot before tilting it slightly, leaving Hannibal at a 45 degree angle in the center of the room. 

Will watched in horror as they injected Hannibal and Hannibal just laid there calmly, staring directly into Will’s eyes despite not being able to see him through the glass. Will let out panicked sobs and pulled against his restraints so hard that they began to break the skin and leave him bleeding. 

“Jack, please, let him go,” Will begged, his throat hoarse from his pleas. 

“You caged him, Will. And it’s you that killed him,” Jack said, nodding his head back to Hannibal. Will’s eyes swiveled back to see Hannibal breathe in a final shaky breath before the heart monitor flatlined. The room began to swirl and Will felt his heart tear itself to shreds as they placed the man he loved under a white sheet and turned off the glass, leaving it dark so that Will was staring at his own reflection. He took in his haunted expression, the blood around his wrists, and the sweat that pinned his hair to his forehead. Sobs wracked his body and Will let out a cry for Hannibal. But once he started, he couldn’t seem to stop. 

“Hannibal! Hannibal, H-h-hannibal!!” 

“Will? Shhh, I’m here, everything is okay, my love. Can you hear me?” 

Will’s eyes flashed open and met Hannibal’s concerned expression. As soon as he locked eyes with Hannibal, he saw Hannibal’s lifeless body behind his eyelids again and let out a weak sob. He shook uncontrollably, unsure of what was real and what wasn’t. He jumped when Hannibal placed a tentative hand on his cheek but began to still when he felt Hannibal’s thumb caress his jaw. 

“Will, look at me. You are okay. I am okay. It was just a dream” Hannibal said, gazing into Will’s eyes imploringly. Will met his eyes in return, taking deep breaths as he allowed himself to take in Hannibal’s face. He reached out a hand and laid it over Hannibal’s heart, content when he felt the strong heartbeats under his skin. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Hannibal asked softly. Will just shook his head. He didn’t trust himself to talk. He wasn’t so sure he’d ever be able to talk again after what he’d seen. 

“I understand. Come here, Will,” Hannibal said, gesturing Will back over to curl against him. Will began to move but then felt overcome with petrifying guilt. 

“Hannibal,” Will croaked out, his throat sore from screaming. “Go back to sleep, please. I’m just going to go outside for a while.” 

Hannibal looked him over, thinking. Will knew Hannibal would want to follow him, so he shot him a look that told Hannibal he really needed to be on his own for a while. Hannibal then nodded. Will gave him a weak smile in thanks. Hannibal leant forward to kiss Will’s lips but Will turned his face, causing Hannibal’s kiss to land on his cheek instead. Will knew he’d only find hurt if he looked in Hannibal’s eyes but he felt so undeserving of any affection that he simply couldn’t stand it any longer. He slipped out of bed and padded out of the room, closing the door firmly behind him. 

Will sat on the edge of the cliff, his feet dangling over the side, and gazed out at the water as the sun began to peek out from the horizon. Roux laid nearby and Will murmured sweet words to her as he tried to soothe his own soul from the pain he still felt. He sighed and wondered what’d he done to earn the affections of someone as adoring and steadfast in his love as Hannibal was. Will longed to make up for the relentless pain and damage he’d caused; but he was so unsure as to how. 

An hour later, as the sun took its place centerstage in the sky, Hannibal opened the door to the patio and brought out two steaming mugs of espresso. Will took one gratefully and avoided Hannibal’s gaze as Hannibal sat down next to him, mimicking Will’s posture and letting his own feet hang off the side of the cliff. 

“You told me you were sure. I never would have done anything if I believed you had held any reservation about us consummating-” 

“Hannibal, it’s not that. Stop.” 

Hannibal fell silent. Will could feel his frustration and confusion but could also tell he was making a valiant effort to remain patient and understanding. After a few more minutes of silence, Will sighed. 

“You won’t let this go, will you?” 

“Of course not.” 

“Why does it even matter, Hannibal? Why can’t you just leave me to my guilt?”

Hannibal’s eyes shot up to meet his at that. He cocked his head to the side. 

“Guilt? You feel guilty for sleeping with me,” Hannibal said, nodding as if he understood. Will let out an impatient growl. 

“No, god, Hannibal, I told you it wasn’t about that at all .” He took a deep breath. “I dreamt about your execution. I was separated from you by more fucking glass and I couldn’t do a single thing as they killed you, and you just took it and it was all because of me,” Will said, unable to stop the tears that fell as he admitted it. “I cried out your name over and over again, pleading for you to come back, but you were already gone. And it was all my fault for rejecting you in the first place.” 

Will rubbed his face in frustration and jerked back violently when he felt Hannibal touch his shoulder. 

“Will,” Hannibal snapped. 

Will stilled at that, his tears faltering in the face of his shock at the anger in Hannibal’s tone. He gulped. 

“Stop retreating. Stop pulling away from me. You must stop offering yourself to me only to retract the next moment. It’s cruel and I won’t have that. Do you understand me?” Hannibal said sternly. 

Will felt the hurt radiate off from Hannibal and his heart twisted. He nodded, showing he understood. He felt another wave of guilt over his inability to stop hurting the man next to him. 

“I feel guilty. For what could have happened. I’m angry… at myself, for almost getting you killed. I don’t want to hurt you, but I’m not meant to be a lover, Hannibal. All I do is inflict pain. You’re better off alone.” 

Hannibal slowly raked his gaze over Will’s face, expression contemplative. 

“You underestimate the depth of my love for you. Tell me Will, do you not understand that I was perfectly content to die by your hand? You walked into my cell that night, your eyes blazing with righteousness, and all I could do in the face of your radiance was willingly bare my neck to you. To die by your hand- to be the very fuel to the fire roaring within you- would be a heavenly way to die. I was content to let you decide my fate. I still am and always will be. I need you to stop destroying yourself with guilt. Not over me. I simply want you to be all that you are- nothing more, nothing less” Hannibal said, emotion coloring his words. 

Will swallowed roughly, recalling how Frederick had described Hannibal as apathetic while in prison and how Will had felt it was closer to contentment. Will had been correct in that assumption, apparently. He also vividly remembered the way Hannibal had merely tilted his head back and almost leaned into Will’s knife, his eyes still full of adoration even in the face of death. Will felt an overwhelming surge of love for Hannibal again, along with a deeply embedded desire to prove that he felt the same for Hannibal. 

Yet Will didn’t respond, opting instead to scan the horizon and watch the roiling waves of the Atlantic, unsure of how to even respond to a confession such as that. 

“You love me,” Hannibal said after several minutes of silence. It wasn’t a question. 

“Yes. Unabatedly” 

“And I, you. Is that not enough for you?” Hannibal asked, his voice uncharacteristically soft, betraying an underlying sense of fear. Will slowly extended his hand to clasp Hannibal’s. He intertwined their fingers and leant forward until his forehead rested against Hannibal’s. He could feel the tension in Hannibal as he waited for a response, could feel his breath catch when their skin made contact. 

“It’s more than enough, Hannibal.” 

Hannibal exhaled steadily and pulled back to look Will in the eyes, searching. Will closed the distance between them and brushed his lips softly against Hannibal’s. Hannibal kissed him back slowly, savoring him in return. 

“Go get in our bed, take off your clothes, and wait for me. I’m going to show you just how much I cherish you, mylimasis ” Hannibal commanded lowly, grasping onto the back of Will’s neck. Will simply nodded and did as Hannibal said. 

Their second time was much slower, with Hannibal thrusting into Will deeply, gently grazing prostate each time. They clung onto each other tightly, sharing messy kisses and tender glances. Will found himself moved to tears as he came, never having been shown such devotion. Hannibal kissed his tears away and buried his face in Will’s neck as he came deep inside him, lovingly whispering Will’s name. Afterwards they held each other close and didn’t let go for an inordinate amount of time. 

*** 

Two more weeks passed by, marking almost two months since their impulsive prison escape. Will felt as if he were still in the midst of a most pleasurable fever dream, an alternate universe in which he received more than he could ever want. He and Hannibal had hardly spent any time apart, opting instead to always be within arm’s reach of the other, truly conjoined. 

The two weeks that had passed had also seen Will and Hannibal finally allowing themselves to fully express and enjoy their love for one another, with Hannibal fucking Will in an inexplicable number of places throughout the house. Will found himself to be happier than he could have ever imagined for himself, basking in the both the darkness and lightness that union with Hannibal brought. For once in his life, Will allowed himself to be led, to be loved, to be cared for by Hannibal. He quickly grew to realize he would never see anything more beautiful than Hannibal’s eyes. 

Will had also read his way through several of the books Hannibal had collected for him, all focusing on what had been his dissertation topic on expanding ways to determine time of death by insect activity. Will had vented his frustration to Hannibal that he’d be unable to finish his PhD since they were now felons and fugitives but Hannibal had waved the concern away, assuring Will that he’d have plenty of time to pursue more degrees when they relocated before too long. 

“And where will we go?” Will had asked. 

“Wherever you would like, of course. The whole world is ours, Will. Though perhaps we should set our sights on somewhere other than America, hmm?” 

Will nodded, smiling at the idea. 

“Morocco, or Cuba, perhaps? They don’t extradite to the US.” 

“Incidentally, I do have safe houses in both Fes and Havana,” Hannibal said, brightening at the idea. 

“Hmm, Cuba may be the better climate for fishing and sailing. And you’re fluent in Spanish, and I know enough to get around… and you could teach me of course,” Will said, winking at Hannibal suggestively. 

Hannibal smirked, clearly finding the idea intriguing. He then nodded and looked across the table at Will seriously. 

“Should we begin arranging logistics for our new home in Cuba?” 

Will grinned brightly and nodded enthusiastically. 

One afternoon when Hannibal was beginning his preparation for an elaborate dinner, Will stormed into the kitchen, his face twisted in fury. Will tried to take deep breaths to calm down but found he couldn’t stop shaking. Hannibal immediately set down the dough he’d been kneading to make bread and crossed the kitchen to grip Will’s shoulder’s tightly. 

“Will? What’s wrong?” 

“Fucking Chilton,” Will spat, gesturing angrily to the iPad in his hand. Hannibal raised his eyebrows and gently pried the tablet out of Will’s hands, looking down to read over the article on the screen. 

A TattleCrime article detailed the release of Chilton’s new book, entitled Hannibal the Cannibal . As Hannibal scanned the article, his mouth twisted in amusement as he read Freddie’s interview of Chilton in which Chilton had bragged of his own mental fortitude, relegating Hannibal to the status of a ‘poser.’ 

“What the hell are you laughing about?” Will spat, eyes narrowed at Hannibal. Hannibal looked up at Will and his eyes softened as he took in the anger still apparent in Will’s eyes. 

“Will, Frederick’s words have no effect on me,” Hannibal said, shaking his head lightly. Will’s eyes darkened. 

“It’s not just what he’s saying now. It’s also about what he did to you. To Alana. He tanked the case and played a major role in landing you the death penalty. Surely you think that’s… rude ?” 

Hannibal shrugged minutely. 

“Naturally it is quite rude, but…” Hannibal began, but quickly paused when he looked at Will’s face. Will could feel the heat of his anger seething from him and Hannibal’s eyes narrowed as he reviewed Will’s carefully chosen words. 

“You always choose your words so carefully. You wield them as a sword, with precision and accuracy,” Hannibal stated matter-of-factly. Will simply raised an eyebrow in return and didn’t comment. 

“Tell me Will…” Hannibal purred as he began to circle around Will like a lion stalking its prey. He leaned closer and spoke softly into his ear. “...what’s to be done about Frederick’s rudeness?” 

Will took a shaky breath, his breath hitching as the heat between the two of them grew. As Hannibal rounded him and came to stand back in front of Will, Will peered up into his maroon eyes which now flashed red with the promise of bloodshed. 

“I want to kill Frederick. Together, Doctor Lecter ,” Will said seductively, dark desire spilling from his lips. Hannibal looked downright ravenous . 

“There would be no greater pleasure than to hunt with you, beloved,” Hannibal replied, a slow smile beginning to creep across his face. 

Hannibal and Will spent the next couple of days planning their trip back to the heart of Baltimore for Frederick’s murder. Hannibal had wanted to wait just a couple of days to make sure Will was absolutely certain he wouldn’t back out. But Will had never felt more sure in his life. 

“I’ve fantasized about killing Frederick before,” Will said to Hannibal on the evening before their planned trip to the city. 

“I would imagine so, seeing as he once held the keys to your cage,” Hannibal replied. Will shook his head dismissively. 

“It wasn’t just that. He’s sleazy. All he cares about is his own fame and reputation. He asked me to perjure myself and defend you, but he didn’t ask for you. He asked for himself. He just picked the side he thought would have the best chance of winning and then he defected to the prosecution. Probably so he could write this fucking book and suddenly appear a genius. He’s so desperate to have his face be known. It’s unspeakably rude,” Will said, his eyes dancing with Hannibal’s as the two began to mentally develop a shared design for their first tableau together. 

“Surely the expression you hold now is the same that the likes of Michaelangelo and Da Vinci wore as they formed their creations. You have a design,” Hannibal stated, his voice eager. 

“Yes,” Will breathed. 

The next morning, Will stretched tiredly before turning on his side to observe a sleeping Hannibal. Will couldn’t help the smile that followed, his heart glowing with warmth as he leant forward and softly kissed Hannibal. He felt Hannibal stir and then he began to kiss Will back, quickly taking control and shifting Will beneath him as he pulled himself up to lean over him. 

“Good morning, my love,” Hannibal said, voice pitched low and sultry. Will leaned up into Hannibal’s chest and smiled against the skin of his throat. 

“‘Morning,” Will replied, dragging his teeth before nipping playfully at Hannibal’s neck. Hannibal pulled back to look at Will, eyes bright. 

“Are you ready for today’s hunt?” 

“God, yes,” Will replied, eyes darkening. Hannibal grinned appreciatively before pulling him in for one more kiss and then pulled Will out of bed with him and headed into the kitchen to begin making breakfast. 

They spent most of the morning packing the necessary materials for their display as well as an assortment of knives- for fun- and guns- for safety- before they finally felt prepared enough. Hannibal packed a black duffel bag into the trunk that Will hadn’t seen before and he reached out in curiosity to open it, finding a plastic suit inside. Will couldn’t help but laugh, pulling it out and examining it as Hannibal came back to the car and scowled at him. 

“This suit rather defeats the purpose of preventing left behind DNA if your hair is exposed,” Will commented, eyebrows raised. Hannibal sniffed and looked at Will blankly. 

“You would be correct if that was indeed the purpose of it. Yet that is not its purpose.” 

Will frowned in confusion and ran his fingers over the plastic, trying to figure what other purpose it could possibly serve. Easier clean up, maybe? But then Will remembered that Hannibal had pulled out a suit for himself and had it hanging in their bedroom and Will rolled his eyes. 

“You wear it so you can still kill in your perfectly tailored suits without getting blood on them. It’s about aesthetics . You’re such a pretentious ass,” Will laughed, laughing harder at the displeased expression that fell over Hannibal’s face. He sobered up quickly, however, as Hannibal lunged forward and pinned Will’s front against the car while Hannibal pressed himself tightly behind him. Hannibal gripped Will’s neck tightly from the front and thrusted roughly against the curves of Will’s ass, causing Will to moan deeply, the sound strangled as Hannibal tightened his grip on Will’s throat. 

“Such an unruly boy you are, Will,” Hannibal said against Will’s ear, stepping away from Will and delivering a harsh blow to both of Will’s ass cheeks. Will moaned again, savoring the sting against his skin and nearly whimpered at the loss of contact when Hannibal withdrew his hand from Will’s throat. Will turned to look at Hannibal to see him smirking arrogantly. Will promised himself he’d see to it later that Hannibal would no longer be smirking. 

There was an inescapable heat between the two of them that carried on through the day, a tension so thick that both longed to simultaneously rip out the other’s throat but also claim and dominate the other through aggressive sex. Hannibal and Will seemed to circle each other as they waited for 1:00pm to come so they could head into Baltimore. They seemed to feed off each other’s energy, the bloodlust of the hunt exciting them to action. 

At long last, the grandfather clock in the living room chimed 1:00 and Will smiled at Hannibal, anticipation causing his stomach to twist in knots. Hannibal smiled tenderly at Will and kissed his forehead, withdrawing before either of them could be tempted to begin something they didn’t have the time to finish. Will followed Hannibal out to the car and soon they were off. 

Seven hours later, Will and Hannibal pulled into the long private driveway of Frederick’s house. Will looked out at the trees as they drove, thankful for the privacy they provided. Frederick’s desire for luxury would ultimately prove helpful to them, as his house was isolated from any neighbors. Plus they had the added benefit of Hannibal having already snuck into and killed inside Frederick’s house, which translated to Hannibal parking not too far from the house and stepping out of the car with unshakeable confidence. 

Will followed him out, looking up at the bright full moon above them. A killing moon. Will smiled to himself as he pocketed two of the sharpest knives as Hannibal pulled on his murder suit. 

“Are you sure you wouldn’t like to wear the plastic suit I had made for you?” Hannibal asked. Will shook his head. 

“I want to feel Frederick’s blood on my hands,” Will growled, his anger towards Frederick brimming at the surface of his emotional well. Hannibal gazed back at him with unmasked adoration before extending out his hand, gesturing for Will to proceed past him and take the lead. Will nodded tightly and strode past Hannibal to Frederick’s front porch. 

Will stood at the door and took a deep breath before he reached out and touched the door handle. Once I open this door, there’s no coming back . Will knew instinctively that once he went through with his first premeditated murder, he’d never want to stop. He glanced at Hannibal who was watching him closely. Will smiled at him and pushed open the door. 

Hannibal and Will entered the pristine white of Frederick’s home silently, trying not to disturb the thin film of calm that hovered throughout the rooms. Will cocked his head to the side and listened to the distant sound of classical music drifting from a room on the other side of the house. Will stalked confidently towards the source of the sound, which ended up being Frederick’s study, located off of the kitchen. 

Lamplight cast a warm glow around the study and when Will peeked through the open door, he could see the back of Frederick’s head as he sat in front of the fire with an open book on his lap. Will couldn’t help the slight smirk that crept across his face as he looked at Hannibal, as if asking for permission. 

Hannibal stared back at him with an intense gaze, his maroon eyes gazing past Will’s own eyes, as if Hannibal were seeing his very soul. Will’s breath caught in his throat and he swallowed roughly, unexpectedly caught off guard by the emotion that he felt now that he was about to completely become one with the vision Hannibal held for him. For both of them. 

Will reached out his hand and cupped Hannibal’s face gently, stroking his thumb along Hannibal’s jaw. Hannibal looked momentarily taken aback but soon allowed himself to soften under Will’s touch. Hannibal closed his eyes and leaned into Will’s hand. Look at this dangerous and sadistic man; see how he yields himself only to you. 

As Will gazed at Hannibal’s expression of contentment, the images of Hannibal’s dead form from his dream came rushing back to him, filling him once again with anger towards Frederick. For his betrayal. His deceit. A surge of protectiveness flowed through him and he pushed past Hannibal and walked into the study, angling himself in front of Hannibal as the man settled behind him. 

“Good evening, Frederick,” Will drawled. “I sincerely hope you aren’t reading your own book because that would just be pathetic.” 

Frederick jumped up, sending a tumbler of scotch crashing to the floor. He spun around wildly, his hands held out in front of him as an expression of terror came over his face. Hannibal leant forward and grabbed the forgotten book, smirking as he held up the book to Will. It was indeed Frederick’s own Hannibal the Cannibal . Will clucked his tongue at Frederick in an exaggerated form of disapproval as he began to slowly stalk towards him. Frederick pushed himself against the bookshelves behind him, clutching at the wood desperately. 

“Come now, Frederick, surely you aren’t surprised to find Hannibal and I here?” Will asked, raising an eyebrow and glancing at Frederick from beneath his eyelashes as he drew closer. 

“I-I-I’m not quite sure what you’re implying, Will…” Frederick said, pulling his shoulders up in an attempt to rally his courage. 

“I’m not implying anything. I am here to review your transgressions, Frederick. And then Hannibal and I will ensure that your penance is paid in full,” Will said, leaning closer to Frederick. He looked over Frederick’s shaking form mercilessly and then turned to Hannibal. The subtle awe in Hannibal’s eyes, visible only to Will, spurred Will on as he reeled an arm back before twisting back to face Frederick and deliver a swift punch to the nose. A satisfying crack filled the air and blood began to pour down Frederick’s face. 

“Your first transgression, Frederick? Screwing over Alana by defecting to the prosecution and playing the tape of her admitting she was working to save her family. That’s low, even for you. You ruined her reputation,” Will said as he brought his fist crashing into Frederick’s stomach, causing him to double over in pain as he tried to catch his breath. Will gripped the back of his neck and pulled, forcing Frederick to look up at him. 

“The second transgression… your work for the prosecution ensured that Hannibal received the death penalty. With you retracting your own psychiatric defense and undermining Alana’s, Hannibal wasn’t even able to form an insanity defense anymore. You think you have control over whether Hannibal lives or dies? Think again,” Will spat, throwing Frederick to the ground in the process. 

Will wiped blood spray from his face as he circled Frederick, the beast within him longing to come out. He glanced at Hannibal across from him on the other side of Frederick, his eyes blazing. Will aimed a sharp kick to Frederick’s rib and heard the answering snap of bone as Frederick cried out in pain. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry….” Frederick repeated over and over again. “Please, don’t hurt me!” 

Will scoffed. 

“Don’t hurt you? You have the audacity to plead for mercy after you send the man I love to be executed? If it wasn’t clear before, Hannibal’s life is mine , and you made an egregious error in thinking you had any claim to it,” Will growled as he stood towering above Frederick. Frederick let out a sob and attempted to beg again but Will cut him off. 

“And you final transgression, Frederick. Not only do you betray your friends and effectively sentence Hannibal to death, you then have the gall to turn all of this into a book ? Your vanity is appalling; you stab others in the back all to make sure your face is known. Well, rest assured, Frederick. Hannibal and I have seen you. And we’ll be the very last ones to,” Will said. 

Will then turned to Hannibal, nodding. Hannibal slid into place as they had discussed and hauled Frederick to his feet. Will walked over to where Hannibal had placed a duffel bag they’d brought in with some of their materials and grabbed a gig. He then walked back over to where Hannibal was now standing across from Frederick, ensuring that Frederick’s back was turned to Will. He didn’t notice Will standing behind him so Will nodded over his shoulder to Hannibal as Hannibal let go of Frederick, taking a couple steps back away from Frederick. 

Frederick stood frozen, watching Hannibal intently in front of him, still oblivious to the fisherman behind him. Will met Hannibal’s eyes over Frederick’s shoulder and without further hesitation lunged towards Frederick, gripping his neck from behind to hold him in place as he drove the pronged spear through Frederick’s back and out of his heart from the front. 

Frederick made a pained noise that soon turned to gurgling as he choked on his own blood. Will felt the hand around Frederick’s neck become drenched in blood as it fell from Frederick’s mouth. Will shook with the elation the surge of power brought. He let Frederick drop to the floor, dead.

Will lifted his head to look at Hannibal and found himself irrevocably drawn to the man. His feet moved of their own accord and when he drew near, Hannibal drew Will to his chest. Will felt his head drop to rest on Hannibal, taking deep breaths as he basked in the high of the kill. 

Hannibal pulled back to look into Will’s eyes and Will felt the depth of their connection as if it were a fire burning all around him and within him. 

“This is all I ever wanted for you, Will. For the both of us.” Will gazed back up at Hannibal and smiled a small, genuine smile for the man in front of him. 

“It’s beautiful,” he replied. And it was. 

*** 

After they finished harvesting Frederick’s liver and kidneys and displayed him according to their design, Hannibal and Will packed up and headed back out to the car. Will had washed himself of Frederick’s blood and changed clothes and Hannibal shed his plastic suit. They got into the car and pulled away from the house to begin the seven hour trip home. 

Will looked down at his hands as Hannibal drove, studying them in the moonlight. He waited for the guilt to hit over taking Frederick’s life but found himself to be extremely lacking in that regard. It didn’t really bother him as much, anymore- the lack of feeling guilty. Instead, Will simply placed his hand on Hannibal’s thigh and knew he’d do anything for the man next to him. 

As they neared the house, Will began to feel the desire and heat return between them, nearly suffocating in its intensity. Will gripped Hannibal’s thigh tighter, pleased when Hannibal huffed an involuntarily noise of pleasure. He slipped his hand between Hannibal’s legs and held Hannibal’s thickening cock possessively. He circled this thumb around the head and felt pre-come dampen Hannibal’s suit. He smirked as Hannibal shifted in a valiant effort to control himself. 

When Hannibal parked the car, the two of them practically jumped out and began to stumble towards the house. Once Hannibal shut the door behind them, Will turned around and slammed Hannibal against the door, assaulting his lips with his own. Hannibal’s mouth opened for Will instantly and he thrust his tongue inside, desperately tasting every corner of his mouth. 

“Will,” Hannibal panted against Will’s mouth, the sound going straight to Will’s own hardening cock. Will pulled back to look at Hannibal then, forcing himself to take a breath. 

“I want to fuck you,” Will growled. “Remind you who you belong to.” 

Hannibal instantly nodded. 

“Anything you want, Will, it’s yours,” Hannibal said. Will nodded and brought his own hand to Hannibal’s throat. 

“Go shower and prepare yourself for me. Then kneel by the bed and wait for me,” Will said, curious of how Hannibal would respond to the command. He was surprised by how quickly Hannibal simply nodded and headed toward their bedroom to do as Will said. 

When Will finished showering in what had once been his own bathroom, he mentally steeled himself for what was about to happen. So far, only Hannibal had topped, Will preferring the dominance it brought out in Hannibal while allowing the opportunity for himself to give in to Hannibal fully. But recently, and especially in the wake of tonight, Will found himself full of a burning desire to claim Hannibal in the same way he’d claimed Will, and to remind him that his life belonged to Will. 

Will walked into their bedroom, not even having bothered to get dressed after the shower. Though his erection had flagged, it soon began to thicken again as he gazed upon the sight of Hannibal kneeling by the bed, waiting for him so obediently. Will felt light-headed as he comprehended the power he held over this man. 

Hannibal’s eyes flickered up to look at him and were full of lust. Will walked closer and stood in front of Hannibal, running his hands through Hannibal’s hair. 

“Open.” 

Hannibal opened his mouth and Will slid his cock inside to the warmth of Hannibal’s mouth, groaning as Hannibal immediately began sucking eagerly. He gripped the back of Hannibal’s head and held it in place as he picked up speed, fucking into his mouth. 

“You’re so good for me, Hannibal,” Will said, moaning when he felt Hannibal hum in appreciation around his dick. 

“On the bed,” Will said. Hannibal slowly slid his mouth off of Will’s cock, licking his lips as he climbed into the bed laid on his back. Will grabbed a pillow and placed it under Hannibal’s hips and settled between his legs. 

“Did you prepare yourself as I instructed?” Will asked, his fingers tracing along Hannibal’s legs. 

“Yes,” Hannibal breathed. Will smiled at him and leaned forward, bending down to catch Hannibal in a kiss. The kiss quickly turned sensual and Will began to mouth at Hannibal’s neck, sucking bruises and biting along his collar bone. He watched in amazement as Hannibal fell apart beneath him in a way Will hadn’t yet seen, not to this extent anyway. 

“Look at you,” Will drawled, “so pliant beneath me. You love submitting to me like this, don’t you, Hannibal?” 

Hannibal moaned lightly in response but turned his face to the side, evading Will’s question. Will lashed out and gripped Hannibal’s jaw, forcing him to look at him. 

“I asked you a question. Answer it,” Will said sternly. 

“Yes, Will.” 

“Yes, what?” 

“Yes, I like submitting to you,” Hannibal breathed, with visible reluctance at the admission of his loss of control. Will sighed with pleasure and rewarded Hannibal with a searing kiss before whispering “good” in Hannibal’s ear. 

Will reached for the lube sitting on the nightstand and coated himself liberally. He looked down at Hannibal’s hips, tilted up for him so invitingly. He circled Hannibal’s rim with his index finger before pushing in, pleased to find Hannibal was ready for him. He pushed in three fingers just to make sure, taking care to find Hanniba’s prostate and tease him before he pulled his hand out and gripped Hannibal’s hips tightly. 

He lined himself up with Hannibal’s hole and pushed in slowly, moaning lowly at the new sensation. Hannibal himself arched up into Will and Will watched him with rapt attention as he stilled, fully seated inside of Hannibal. When Will still didn’t move, Hannibal growled in frustration. 

“Move, Will.” Will smirked. 

“Say please.” 

“Please, Will,” Hannibal whispered, the foreign sound of something akin to desperation seeping into his voice. The sound made Will’s brain short circuit and he quickly pulled most of the way out before slamming back into Hannibal. 

Will felt his energy practically come to a boiling point within him as he thought of their evening, of the glances they shared while Will stabbed a spear through Frederick. The thought facilitated another surge of possessiveness and Will set a brutal pace as he fucked into Hannibal. Hannibal was moaning louder than he had ever done, his face open as he stared into Will’s eyes. 

The sight fueled Will and he threw Hannibal’s legs over his shoulders and drove into Hannibal harder, pushing against his prostate with every thrust. He then brought up a hand and clenched tightly around Hannibal’s throat. He could feel Hannibal’s throat constrict as he gasped for air. The sound sent a wave of pleasure over Will and he could feel his orgasm began to build. 

“Who do you belong to?” Will asked gruffly. 

“You,” Hannibal gasped. Will rewarded him for his answer by reaching down to grasp Hannibal’s cock and pump in time with his thrusts. 

“You’re mine ,” Will growled. 

“ Yes ,” Hannibal replied as he came, stripes of white coating his chest and Will’s hand. The feel of Hannibal clenching around him made Will’s thrusts become erratic before he too came deep inside Hannibal with a groan. 

Will slipped out of Hannibal and crashed down beside him, laughing happily as he shared a smile with him. 

Will grabbed a warm washcloth from the bathroom and cleaned both of them up, knowing Hannibal would appreciate the cleanliness. He then settled back into bed beside Hannibal and the two of them laid on their sides, exchanging languid kisses and soft glances. 

“You have fully become now, Will,” Hannibal said as he eventually broke the quiet between them. “You have passed your final stage of transformation and appear before me now an imago . Fully formed.” 

Will swallowed thickly, the imago conversation before that night in Hannibal’s kitchen playing vividly behind his eyes. 

“And to think I had reached my imago months ago,” Will said, reminiscing the imago tableau he’d created in Hannibal’s wine cellar. Hannibal shot him a confused look. 

“Chiyoh didn’t tell you?” Will asked, surprised. 

“I don’t believe so,” Hannibal replied. 

“When I went to your home, in Lithuania, and Chiyoh killed your prisoner… I displayed him. I created a tableau of him. I spun him in twine and constructed wings, filling them with glass from wine bottles so the light could reflect through them. I then covered him in cochlea so he’d attract the fireflies. He was an imago , a fully formed firefly. I felt in that moment that I had reached my becoming as well. Never before then had I seen so fully and knew intrinsically that we are the same. In that moment, your becoming was my becoming. It was a monument to you. To me. To us.” 

Will watched as tears threatened to brim in Hannibal’s eyes. When one tear escaped, Will brushed it away gently before leaning forward to plant a kiss to Hannibal’s temple. 

“I am aware I am not as expressive as you are, nor am I as romantic. But I need you to know that I am here for you in all of the same ways you are there for me. My life is yours and your life is mine; I am you and you are me. And I love you, Hannibal. I hoped my actions tonight communicated that in a way my words cannot.” 

For once, Hannibal was speechless, nodding silently instead. Will sighed and turned to lay on his back. 

“Let me hold you,” he whispered. Hannibal looked shocked, a flash of disbelief crossed his face before he smiled lightly instead, leaning forward to lay his own head on Will’s chest. Will wrapped an arm possessively around Hannibal’s waist and held him close, kissing his hair softly and murmuring praises until he heard Hannibal drift into sleep. Will smiled and nuzzled his jaw against Hannibal’s head before he too succumbed to the sweet and easy peace. 

Chapter Text

“ Goddamnit,” growled Jack, slamming his cellphone down hard against his wooden night stand as he crawled out of bed. He looked down at his clock. 6:30am. Jack fought against the pit that settled deep into his stomach, desperately hoping that his instincts were wrong. He shook his head before picking up his phone once again and dialing Jimmy’s number. 

“Good morning, Jack!” chirped Jimmy on the first ring. Jack let out a sigh of frustration and Jimmy seemed to get the hint immediately. 

“... What’s wrong, Jack? What’s happened?” he asked softly. 

“Chilton. He’s dead. Displayed,” Jack spat. 

“Oh, Jack. Do you think it was…?” 

“I don’t know, Jimmy. I don’t know.” 

A few moments of silence ensued before Jack sighed again. 

“Look, I need you and Z at the crime scene in 30. I’ll send you Chilton’s address. I’ll see you there,” Jack said. Jack heard murmuring on the other end of the line, ostensibly the sound of Jimmy waking Z and filling him in. 

“Alright. We’ll be there. Thanks Jack,” came Jimmy’s voice before the call abruptly ended. Jack sat on his bed, thinking, and took a closer examination at the pit buried deep in his stomach. It’s them. He desperately wanted to be wrong but knew it was highly unlikely, so he dialed Alana. 

“Jack? What’s wrong?” came Alana’s answer, clearly just awoken from sleep. 

“Chilton’s dead. Displayed. Need you to be at his house in 30 for a profile. Can you do that?” 

“Jack, you don’t think..?” 

“I don’t know,” Jack snapped irritably. Then, a long exhale. “I don’t know. Can you come in to help?” 

“Yes,” came Alana’s reply after a considerable silence. Jack thanked her and hung up, walking to the bathroom to get ready for the day. 

Yet all the mental preparation Jack had done still could not have prepared him for the scene that he walked into when he arrived at Chilton’s house. Jack walked in slowly, inhaling sharply when he saw the tableau in front of him. He circled the display before taking a step back and cocking his head to the side. 

Chilton stood in the middle of his study, held upright by fishing wire attached to the ceiling. A sort of spear had been driven into his back, through his heart, and out of his chest. Jack then raised his eyes to look at Chilton’s (lack of a) face. His stomach squirmed as he looked at the complete removal of the skin on Chilton’s face, leaving only exposed muscle coated with dried blood. His eyes had likewise been removed. He was hardly recognizable. 

Jack took a step back and put his hands on his hips, thinking quietly. He didn’t turn when he heard Z and Jimmy enter behind them. They didn’t comment, opting instead to quietly begin working on photographing the scene and dusting for left behind evidence. When Jack heard a sigh behind him, he did end up turning around and came face-to-face with a very pregnant Alana. She ran her hands over his stomach subconsciously, as if trying to shield her unborn child from the horror in front of her. 

“Thank you for coming, Dr. Bloom. I know this is the last place you want to be right now, but I needed your help,” Jack said. Alana just nodded, taking a couple steps forward and raking her eyes over the display. 

“What is that?” she asked, pointing at the pronged spear. “It looks like a spear, yet also different…” she mused. Z stuck his head around from behind Chilton’s body. 

“It’s a gig. Used by fishermen when they hunt at night,” Z informed them. At Jack’s cocked eyebrow Z grew defensive. “What? Dad used to force me to go with him when I was young…,” he said, but Jack tuned him out, turning back to Alana instead. 

The pair exchanged a dark look. Alana twisted her lips nervously before taking another step forward to look at Chilton’s (nonexistent) face. 

“Whoever killed him wanted to take away his face… perhaps they felt as if he didn’t deserve it,” she said. Her eyes flickered over to a chair and a small table nearby. On the small side table, there was a single book, standing up, its title clear to read as if it too was also on display. Hannibal the Cannibal, by Frederick Chilton. 

Alana put on a pair of gloves and picked up the book, turning it over to look at the back, which had an “about the author section” beside a picture of Chilton. She held up the book, showing it to Jack, before showing him the picture on the back, which looked as if someone had taken a marker and scratched over Chilton’s face. Jack took a deep breath. 

“So, the killer took Chilton’s face because in his mind, he didn’t deserve the fame that this book brought. A book about Hannibal,” Jack said. He hung his head. “Z, swipe that gig for prints and let me know if it returns anything.” Z nodded and began looking for prints. 

“But why the spear?” Jack asked. Alana tilted her head before realization dawned on her face. 

“Frederick stabbed me in the back. Stabbed Hannibal, the whole defense, in the back. So the killer decided that was a fitting way for Frederick to go. They stabbed him in the back and took his face. Probably took more from him,” Alana said, looking at Jack pointedly. 

Jimmy confirmed that the lacerations on Chilton’s back were consistent with organ removal and could be confirmed as such when they examined him in the lab. Z then cleared his throat and everyone turned to look at him. 

“I can guarantee you that we’ll find organs missing. The fingerprints have a match. It’s Will Graham,” Z said. 

Jack punched the wall on his way out. 

*** 

Will woke to the feel of Hannibal kissing along his neck, chest, and jaw. He smiled warmly, tilting his chin down to look at the way Hannibal clung to his body, as if he had never allowed himself the indulgence of being held. Will tightened his arms more firmly around Hannibal and ran a hand through his silvery blond locks, smiling once again when he heard Hannibal hum appreciatively. 

“Come here,” Will said huskily, gesturing broadly to his lap. Hannibal quirked a smile and slid over Will, straddling him. Will felt his already hard cock stir in interest as Hannibal lowered himself slowly over Will’s lap, rubbing their erections together. Will slid his arms down Hannibal’s back and gripped his ass tightly, the possessive streak that had shown itself the night before revving up again. 

“Hannibal, I-” began Will, murmuring through moans as Hannibal began to plant kisses and bites across Will’s chest, “I don’t why I’ve never said this, but you’re so beautiful.” Hannibal pulled back and glanced down at Will at that, his face curiously blank. Will’s eyebrows knit together in confusion and was about to question Hannibal about it when Hannibal deflected the attention, directing it back to Will instead. 

“Nothing could ever compare to your beauty, mylimasis ,” Hannibal whispered in Will’s ear. Will tightened his grip on Hannibal’s hips and pushed his chest away so that he could look Hannibal straight in the eye. 

“Now who’s the one pulling back? You can’t start hiding yourself from me, not now. Not after everything…” Will said, narrowing his eyes at Hannibal. Hannibal pursed his lips minutely, but Will caught him in the act. He brought his hand up to cup Hannibal’s jaw and Hannibal stilled before eventually meeting Will’s eyes again. 

“I think I know what’s really going on here,” Will said, combing his fingers through Hannibal’s hair once again. “You are so used to always being in control, having the upper hand. And now that I’m showing my hand regarding the power I have over you- as you have over me- you can’t help but resist it.” 

Hannibal didn’t answer, his mask still coolly in place. Will felt a tug in his heart and he laughed softly. 

“You wanted an equal, Hannibal. This is me coming into my own. If you expected the submission of me to you, surely you can see how I would desire the same? You needn’t hide from me, love.” Will internally gaped at the term of endearment that fell from his lips. Who the hell even am I any more? Yet the sentiment appeared to have done its job, for Hannibal slowly lowered his mask and nodded. 

“Forgive me, Will. I must admit I’m rather surprised by your recent actions in being so transparent in what you wanted. While not unwelcome, it simply was not something I had expected. So soon, anyway,” Hannibal replied. Will gripped Hannibal’s hips tighter as he began to grind his cock slowly between Hannibal’s ass cheeks, his eyes not straying from Hannibal’s as he did so. 

“I just want you to feel appreciated in the same way you do for me. I’m your partner Hannibal, and I want to be comforted just as much as I want to provide comfort for you, okay? For once in our relationship, we are on equal ground now. I suspect you’ll have to adjust to that too, hmm?” Will said with a wink and Hannibal just smirked slightly before he began to grind earnestly against Will’s cock. 

“ God I want to be inside of you again. I want to see you ride me,” Will moaned, tipping his head back as Hannibal reached forward and stroked his cock, circling his thumb over the head teasingly. 

“Certainly, beloved,” Hannibal said, reaching over to grab the lube from the bedside drawer. He lathered Will’s cock before reaching behind himself to work himself open, the other hand stroking Will as he did so. When he was prepared, he leaned over Will before sliding down on his cock slowly, drawing a long low moan from Will as he did so. 

“ Fuck you feel so good, Hannibal,” Will said, cupping Hannibal’s ass tight enough to leave marks before he thrust up into Hannibal’s warmth above him. Hannibal then leant forward unexpectedly and gripped Will’s throat tightly. Will struggled against it, but found himself unable to move too much with Hannibal’s full weight bearing down on him. 

Hannibal took control then, snapping his hips down roughly as he bounced on Will’s dick, hand clasped threateningly around his throat. Will scratched his nails deeply into Hannibal’s back, drawing blood, pleased when he heard Hannibal let out a moan of his own. 

Will snarled in response to the noise of pleasure that escaped Hannibal and grabbed at the hand clasped at his throat, twisting Hannibal’s wrist until Hannibal let go with a grunt. Will gripped Hannibal’s wrists tightly, one hand secured around each wrist, and held them against his chest as he bucked up into Hannibal at a punishing pace, his own pleasure rising as he heard the sound of his own balls slapping against Hannibal’s ass as he rode his cock. 

Will felt heat pool in his lower belly and he quickly let go of Hannibal’s wrists in favor of gripping Hannibal’s hips, holding him in place as Will thrust into him quickly. 

“Come for me, Hannibal,” Will bit out gruffly. Hannibal’s hand went obediently to his cock and he stroked himself to the speed of Will’s thrusts. With a final thrust up into Hannibal, Will pulled Hannibal’s hips down with him as he came deep inside of Hannibal, moaning as he did so. Hannibal came seconds afterward, his come coating Will’s chest in hot white stripes. 

“Fuck ,” said Will, sighing as Hannibal slid off of him and bent his head to clean up his own come from Will’s chest. Hannibal gazed at him intently as he did so, Will finding himself entranced by the sight of the dangerous man he’d managed to bring to his knees. Just for me . 

Hannibal buried his face in Will’s neck, inhaling deeply. 

“You smell like mine, Will,” he said, his teeth raking over the bite mark on Will’s neck he loved to reopen every time Hannibal felt dominant which, granted, was still most of the time. Will leaned up into the bite, letting out a contented sigh. Hannibal hummed. 

“As delicious as you are darling, I’m afraid I’m rather in the mood for our most recent catch. Shower and then meet me in the kitchen for breakfast,” Hannibal said, planting a final kiss to Will’s lips before he slipped out of bed and headed for the kitchen. 

Will padded out into the kitchen dressed in casual khakis and a light blue sweater, his freshly washed hair clinging to his forehead. Hannibal looked over his shoulder at Will and smiled before turning his attention back to the eggs he was busy scrambling. Will walked up behind him and glanced over his shoulder, smirking when he saw the meat cooking in a larger pan off to the side. 

“Frederick, I presume?” Will questioned. 

“Naturally. While normally I would prepare a more elegant meal in homage to the late pig, I was feeling perhaps a tad sentimental and opted instead for a protein scramble to start the day,” Hannibal said, eyes gleaming with delight as he surveyed Will’s face and found a warm smile in return. 

“Hmmm, have I mentioned how interesting I find you now?” Will asked, wrapping his hands around Hannibal’s waist from behind and nosing along his neck teasingly. Hannibal only smiled in return before shooing Will away with instructions to set the table. 

Will set the table quietly, slipping back inside his mind as he contemplated the fact that not only had he killed a man he knew, but that he was also about to knowingly consume him. Will strained with the effort to muster up a sense of guilt about how Wrong it was, but the only thing he could feel was a wave of residual contempt for Frederick and his stomach rumbling in hunger. He shrugged to himself, at last content with the knowledge he was truly and utterly fucked. 

Hannibal brought out two bowls made of fine china, filled to the brim with the protein scramble. He then brought out freshly cut fruit and croissants layered with marmalade before pouring Will a cup of French pressed coffee. He then sat at the head of the table and turned to Will, who sat at his right since he was too stubborn to sit at the other end. 

Will stabbed one of the sausage pieces with his fork and brought it to his lips, eyes on Hannibal the entire time. He then bit into the meat, delighted by the tenderness and spice he found within. He allowed himself a small smile, relishing the feeling of Frederick’s organs being shred to pieces by his predator teeth. Heat flared in Hannibal’s gaze at Will’s delight before he too bit into Frederick, closing his eyes in pleasure as he swallowed. 

“A most brilliant catch, beloved,” Hannibal said. Will couldn’t help the swell of pride that rose within him. 

“Tell me Will, what did you feel when you killed Frederick? What associations came most quickly as you plunged your spear through the heart of a traitor?” Hannibal inquired as he crossed one leg over the other and gazed at Will intently. 

Will sat in the low armchair directly across from Hannibal, the two of them back in the study before the fire, falling once again into their semi formal roles as patient and psychiatrist. The shift in Hannibal’s tone had been jarring, his fondness eclipsed by a detached coolness as he feasted upon the inner workings of Will’s mind. Will squirmed in his chair, a reaction he could hardly control as disturbing memories bubbled under the surface of the darkest parts of his mind. 

“I expect it felt quite similar to what you experienced when you ran a knife through me for my betrayal, Doctor ,” Will retorted. Hannibal quirked a smile at that and Will huffed in annoyance. Hannibal patiently waited for Will to continue and Will finally sighed before unfolding his arms from his defensive posture. 

“It felt… righteous . The feeling extended well past satisfaction. No, this was something more,” Will said, embracing the heat that curled within him. He locked eyes with Hannibal. “It felt natural. Instinctual .” 

“Yet this is the first time you have played judge, jury, and executioner, Will, with the added element of premeditation. Do you harbor any guilt over your actions?” 

“No,” Will replied simply. “I simply allowed myself to be intimate with my instincts, as you suggested. Besides, Frederick had it coming. His punishment was… preordained,” Will said with a snide smile, leaning back in his chair. Hannibal tilted his head thoughtfully. 

“Behold the ‘ wrath of the Lamb ! For the great day of His wrath has come, and who is able to stand?’” Hannibal murmured softly, the gaze upon Will shifting from thoughtful to adoring. Will ruminated on the quote, struggling to place it. But the downright worshipful cadence in Hannibal’s voice directed him to the Bible’s Revelations , and the verse slid into place. He likens me to the Lamb of God . Will leant forward and looked at Hannibal sharply, his elbows resting on his knees as a delightfully dark thought wound its way through the tunnels of Will’s mind. 

“St. John writes in his Revelations that on the day the Lamb of God appeared, ‘the moon appeared like blood.’ A killing moon, if you will.” 

Hannibal leveled a stare at him and clasped his hands together on his knee, expression bright. 

“A blood red moon is undoubtedly an omen of death to come. Does my Lamb’s wrath require a sacrifice, Will?” 

“Yes,” Will said quietly. Hannibal watched him, captivated and enamored. “I think it’s time we paid your former psychiatrist a visit soon, don’t you, my dear?” 

Hannibal smiled with unfettered pride and Will felt his own heartbeat increase. The hunt was back on.

Will’s hair ruffled as the gentle ocean breeze blew over him, carrying his scent over to Hannibal, who inhaled indulgently. Yet Will was too focused to notice, staring intently at the chessboard on the table between them and pondering his next move. 

The game had come to a standstill, both of them in precarious positions. Hannibal smirked as Will blew out a frustrated breath. 

“Don’t look so smug,” Will muttered, eventually opting to move his Rook just to have Hannibal collect it in seconds. “ Dammit ,” Will cursed. He glanced up at Hannibal, expected a rebuke for his language, but instead just found Hannibal smiling at him softly, gazing at Will as if he had hung the moon. Will’s breath caught in his throat, still unused to the feeling of being loved and treasured so fully. 

“You changed,” Will whispered. Hannibal cocked his head as an indication for Will to expand on his comment. “After Italy. You changed,” Will clarified. 

Hannibal gazed out across the ocean at that, his smile replaced by a serene expression before he settled on Will once again. 

“No. You changed me long before then. It is just as you said, that night in my kitchen,” Hannibal said. Will swallowed, casting his eyes about in a stubborn refusal to meet Hannibal’s gaze in that moment. His heart twisted as he thought back on all he had lost in his becoming. All they both had lost as they each transformed into something more. Something conjoined , parts of themselves blurring into the other, organs exchanged and swapped, their skin melding to create something new. 

Will didn’t respond, opting instead to reach out a hand, seeking Hannibal’s comfort. Hannibal wrapped his hand over Will’s, drawing soothing patterns with his thumb as they both gazed out at the ocean, eyes on the horizon as they pondered what the future had in store for them. 

Later that afternoon, a knock on the door jolted Will from his sleep on the couch. Roux barked loudly, warning Will of the intruder. Yet Hannibal was already at the door, opening it and stepping aside to let in a blank-faced Chiyoh. 

“Chiyoh,” Will intoned with an obligatory inclination of his chin. 

“Will,” she replied in the same vein, though she turned to Hannibal and offered a very small- but genuine- smile. 

“My dearest Chiyoh,” Hannibal said fondly, ushering her into the dining room and gesturing to a chair, which she took hesitantly. 

“I am not eating any meat, Hannibal,” Chiyoh warned. Hannibal smiled in amusement. 

“You are fortunate I am so very fond of you, Chiyoh,” Hannibal said. Will was surprised when Chiyoh simply smirked in reply. 

“But rest assured, it’s only fish, caught by Will and I,” Hannibal said, pulling a few fish from the freezer and holding them up so she could see them. Chiyoh nodded then and Hannibal got to work preparing a simple fish fry. 

Since Chiyoh seemed content to sit in silence and stare out at the ocean instead of engaging Will in conversation, Will settled at the table with Hannibal’s iPad, checking out TattleCrime for any news regarding Frederick’s death. 

True to form, the main article flashing on the front page of the website showed a grisly picture of Frederick displayed under the caption “Murder Husbands Get Their Revenge!” Will rolled his eyes in annoyance at the obnoxious way Freddie wrote about Frederick’s death, gloating about she had been right about Will’s insanity and proclivity for murder. Despite the overall irritation, Will was glad to find that the FBI had absolutely no leads on them, and that they were safe for the time being. 

However, given their recent decision to target Bedelia, Hannibal and Will also knew that this would naturally require the date of their departure to Cuba to be moved forward, hence Chiyoh’s visit. 

“Will and I will ensure that the boat is set today,” Hannibal said to Chiyoh, the mention of his name pulling Will from his reverie. Will simply nodded in agreement, shoveling more fish into his mouth to avoid being roped into the conversation. 

“Okay,” Chiyoh said before reaching into her bag to pull out a bag that had several papers folded neatly inside. “Directions for your arrival in Cuba. I will travel ahead of time by plane with Roux, as discussed, and will be waiting at the safehouse with her. I shall also acquire any materials you may need for the house and ensure the area is safe before meeting you at the marina listed on the paper,” Chiyoh explained. Hannibal glanced through the papers and nodded. 

“The boat should be in ideal condition to leave. I have everything we could possibly need already on board, I’ll just ask Will to check the mechanics are good for travel. When does your flight depart?” 

“Tomorrow at noon.” 

“Very well. You are more than welcome to stay with us for the night, Chiyoh. There’s a spare bedroom and Will has already graciously agreed to make gumbo for us tonight, provided we are able to catch some shrimp this afternoon when we take the boat out,” Hannibal said. 

“ We ,” Will scoffed. “By that, he means me,” Will said playfully as Hannibal leveled him with an icy stare that normally would have intimidated anyone else but only sent delightful shivers down Will’s spine. 

Will stood up and walked over to Hannibal, leaning over his shoulder and whispered in his ear. 

“Can we go now, please?” Will asked, planting a soft kiss to the stretch of neck underneath Hannibal’s ear. Hannibal turned and captured Will in a rough kiss before he stood and began to clear the kitchen. 

“Go get your gear, my beautiful boy,” Hannibal said and Will walked off to the closet happily to select the required gear. 

Two miles down the coastline from Hannibal’s house was a steep staircase graved into the side of the cliff leading down to a discreet dock. Will bounded down the steps delightfully, Roux trailing in his wake with playful barks. 

Will whistled his approval when he examined Hannibal’s boat- a Pearson 34 complete with navy blue accents. It was a beautiful sailboat, really, and would be ideal for long-distance traveling. Will ran his eyes down the length of the boat before he felt his throat close up with emotion and tears brimmed in his eyes when he saw what Hannibal had named the boat. Etched into the stern was the name Winston . 

Will glanced back at Hannibal behind him and folded himself against the man’s chest, murmuring thanks as he pulled Hannibal’s head towards him for a searing kiss. 

“Of course, beloved,” Hannibal murmured in return before helping Will push the boat out to sea. 

Will was peaceful and clearly in his element, standing in the cockpit with the breeze whipping around him as he sailed them out not too far from shore, settling into an ideal place to catch shrimp. 

Hannibal lounged shirtless on the deck at the bow of the boat, stretching out in the sun like a cat. Will kept getting distracted as he let his eyes wander over to observe the way Hannibal’s muscles stood out in the sunlight. Hannibal preened, knowing Will was watching him. Will shook his head fondly and jumped into the water to stake his baiting poles in a wide area before pulling himself back out of the water again. 

Will could feel Hannibal’s eyes on him as he pulled himself up onto the deck, water dripping down his bare chest and collecting in small pools by his feet. 

“You strike quite the powerful image, Will. Like Poseidon, you reign in the sea. How magnificent you are,” Hannibal called out to him from across the deck. Will smirked in response and gave the bait a few minutes to attract shrimp, thoroughly examining the sailboat in the process while they waited. 

When Will was satisfied that the boat was safe, functional and properly stocked with all the necessary gear, he walked over to his baiting poles and cast his net with an expert hand, tugging it back towards him slowly to reel in his catch. He smiled with satisfaction as he pulled an ample amount of shrimp out of the water, grinning as he showed Hannibal. 

That evening found Will alone in the kitchen, deveining shrimp as the muffled voices of Hannibal and Chiyoh reached his ears from where they sat on the patio overlooking the ocean. Roux sat by Will’s feet, staring up at the food he was preparing in interest. He laughed softly at the innocence in her expression, his heart truly full for the first time in… forever. 

“You know, Roux, I named you as a homage to my Cajun roots,” Will said softly to the dog, her ears perking at the mention of her name. “A roux is an essential part of any gumbo, providing the deep and rich flavor base to the meal. My grandmother, Lanelle, always made gumbo on my birthday when I was a child. I learned from her,” Will added as he poured flour and oil into a pot on the stove and began to stir to create the roux. His heart ached from the simple memory of his childhood, perhaps one of the few positive associations with family he had ever had. 

He worked steadily, shooing Hannibal away when he came inside to hover, asking if Will needed any help. In an attempt to keep his hands busy, Hannibal wandered over to the piano and began playing a soft sonata, sending heat-filled glances Will’s way whenever Will glanced over at him with appreciation. Chiyoh ignored their antics altogether, though she finally relaxed enough to settle into the couch and played quietly with Roux. 

About an hour and a half later, Will summoned Hannibal and Chiyoh into the dining room and served his Gumbo. 

“Don’t worry, Chiyoh, I left out the sausage on your behalf. It’s just chicken and shrimp,” Will said politely and she gave him a small grateful smile. Will watched anxiously as she and Hannibal tried it, Hannibal’s eyes shining brightly with pride. Will blushed and dove into the comfort food himself. 

Will crossed his arms over his chest anxiously as he watched Chiyoh load Roux’s crate into her car the next morning. 

“And don’t forget that it’s two scoops, not one, at both breakfast and dinner,” Will said fussily as Hannibal packed a bag of dog food into the car. Chiyoh shot Will an annoyed glance. 

“I am not an idiot, Will,” she snapped. “The dog will be just fine. Relax,” she added with slightly less chill in her tone. Hannibal came to stand beside him and gripped his shoulder comfortingly. Will leaned into the touch, sighing in an attempt to calm himself down. He then knelt down next to Roux and murmured sweet assurances into her ear, stroking her coat softly. She licked his face affectionately in return before Will finally pulled himself back, nodding to Chiyoh who then ushered Roux into the car. 

“When should I expect you two in Cuba?” Chiyoh asked. 

“I expect we will leave this area in approximately two days. Will estimates about 10-12 days for sailing, so perhaps two weeks would be a fair estimate. Thank you, Chiyoh,” Hannibal said. Chiyoh simply nodded and bid them farewell before she climbed into the car and left without any fanfare. Will turned to Hannibal with a mischievous smile. 

“Time to plan a hunt,” Will said. Hannibal smiled and wrapped an arm around Will’s waist to walk with him back to the house. 

The next evening, Will’s leg wouldn’t stop shaking as he restlessly stirred in the passenger seat as Hannibal drove them into Baltimore for the second time that month. However, this time was markedly different in that it was general excitement about what was to come rather than nervousness. 

It hadn’t been more than a week since Frederick’s murder, as they were intent on getting to Bedelia before she had the sense to flee the country. Will glanced over at Hannibal, who still wore an irritated microexpression and hadn't spoken to Will for the past half hour. Will sighed in frustration. 

“Hannibal, I told you that we have to make decisions together , and we both have to agree on the target. I won’t tolerate you going behind my back to murder someone I explicitly told you to stay away from.” 

Hannibal pursed his lips in disdain, but Will could feel an underlying insecurity in the air. 

“You still harbor feelings for Alana,” Hannibal accused. 

“No, Hannibal, I do not,” Will said for the second time that evening. 

“Then I do not understand why she cannot be our third victim. I told her I’d come for her someday, and I intend on keeping that promise.” 

“Well, I suppose you’ll just have to break that promise.” 

“You aren’t my keeper, Will. Tread carefully,” Hannibal warned, his voice tight. Will clenched his fist in frustration. 

“You cannot simply revert to threatening me when you don’t agree with something I propose, Hannibal. Again, I told you that I am your equal-” 

“And yet your stubborn and lingering affections for Alana embolden you to veto my decisions as if you are an executive rather than an equal partner,” Hannibal said. 

“I’m not doing this with you right now,” growled Will. Hannibal tightened his hands on the steering wheel, but kept his mouth resolutely shut as they pulled into Bedelia’s driveway. Will’s heart clenched when he looked over at Hannibal’s clenched jaw, dismayed to see his lover upset. Will hadn’t mentioned Alana’s pregnancy, which was his primary motivation for steering clear of her, but he had wanted to test Hannibal’s loyalty to him, to see if he could truly back out of a commitment to kill someone for Will’s sake. As of now, the situation remained precarious. 

Will exited the car and, after Hannibal grabbed a bag of necessary instruments, stalked up to the front door. 

The majority of the lights were off in the house, the only light a cold, white glow coming from a room further into the house off to the left. Will walked forward quietly, peering around the corner into the room to see Bedelia nursing a glass of wine as she sat on a couch in her living room, typing something on her laptop. Will nodded over to Hannibal and the two of them entered the room as if they owned the place, circling the couch before coming to a stop directly across from her. 

“Good Evening, Bedelia,” Hannibal said, a slow smile creeping across his face. Bedelia closed her laptop delicately and folded her legs. She took a long, slow sip of wine before she glanced over at Will, her eyes raking over him appraisingly. She shot a look at Hannibal. 

“Brought the twink, did you?” 

Hannibal smirked in response and Will huffed in annoyance. He opened his mouth to retort angrily but stilled when he felt Hannibal grip the back of his neck tightly in warning. Pleased with Will’s obedience, Hannibal let go and crossed in front of him to sit in a chair across from Bedelia. He crossed his legs and looked at her with curiosity. Will paced restlessly behind him.

“You did not run,” Hannibal stated simply. Bedelia pursed her lips and drained the rest of her wine. 

“You undoubtedly heard of Frederick’s death. You were probably warned by Jack Crawford that we may come knocking. And yet here you are,” drawled Hannibal. Bedelia looked at him steadily, her eyes narrowed. Will watched her eyes dart across Hannibal’s face before realization dawned on him. 

“You thought he held some sort of special affection for you,” Will stated, coming to a stop behind the chair Hannibal sat in. “You thought perhaps he wouldn’t come calling on you at all.” 

Bedelia crossed her arms, not denying his accusations. Will nodded slowly. 

“Perhaps you’re right. Maybe Hannibal wouldn’t have chosen to come after you himself. Maybe he would have been content to let you slip away. Unfortunately for you, I asked him to dispense of you,” Will said, a scowl forming on his face as his petty irrittances with Bedelia came to the forefront of his mind. 

“It’s unfortunate that you are so insecure in his affection for you that you seek his reassurance in this way,” Bedelia responded snidely, curling her lip at Will. Will narrowed his eyes. Hannibal watched the exchange between them with an amused smile. 

“Will is a marvelously jealous creature, Dr. Du Maurier,” Hannibal said. “I imagine he holds considerable contempt for you considering our time together in Italy. Not to mention the countless nights I spent inside of you while we were there. Will would see your heart ripped out for the simple fact you provided me… company in a time where he could not.” 

Will snapped his head to Hannibal then, his anger growing to a boiling point. He had naturally assumed Hannibal and Bedelia had slept together in the past, and likely had done so in Italy, but Will knew Hannibal was mentioning it purely to irritate him in retaliation for their unresolved fight. 

“Trouble in paradise?” Bedelia asked with a smirk as she observed the way Will glared at Hannibal. Will shot her an annoyed look and stalked over to the bag Hannibal had brought in. He removed a vial of mediation and a syringe and handed it to Hannibal, gesturing for him to fill it with the proper dosage. 

“If I were to have been Bluebeard’s wife, I would have preferred to be the last,” Bedelia said, her eyes falling on Will with a challenge in her eyes. Will plucked the syringe from Hannibal’s hand and walked over to her, kneeling before her. He drew her arm forward and looked up at her seriously. 

“Oh, but you were the last wife, Bedelia. Bluebeard’s got a husband now,” Will stated, feeling triumphant, and pushed the syringe into her vein, satisfied when she slumped forward, unconscious.

Chapter Text

Will caught Bedelia as she began to slump forward, teetering on the edge of the couch. He pushed her down roughly and laid her out, propping up her head to ensure she could still breathe while unconscious. He flashed an angry glare at Hannibal, the snide comment Hannibal had made about his sexual history with Bedelia in the forefront of his mind. He wouldn’t admit he was both jealous and hurt, opting instead to push past Hannibal roughly and stalk off to Bedelia’s bedroom. 

Once inside, Will ripped the comforter off of Bedelia’s bed, leaving just the sheets. He then unzipped the duffel bag he’d brought in with him and began placing Hannibal’s tools on the bed neatly before he went to the bathroom to fill up a small tub with warm water. 

Hannibal came into the room minutes later carrying Bedelia over his shoulder, expression on his face tightly controlled. Will could tell he was angry as well, which only served to piss Will off more. Hannibal laid Bedelia on the bed gently, brushing stray locks of her out of her face as he propped her head up on a pillow. Will watched him sourly, darting his eyes away when Hannibal looked at him. 

The room was thick with an angry and dangerous tension, the two killers moving about the room silently as they circled the victim they’d intended on taking down together. Hannibal set up an IV drip and hiked Bedelia’s skirt up, exposing her thighs. Will swallowed angrily as he tried not to imagine Hannibal buried within her to the hilt, fucking her in Italy when it should have been him with Hannibal. Hannibal’s eyes held a red haze as they regarded Will, the gaze only breaking when Hannibal looked down to wipe Bedelia’s leg down with alcohol and draw a thin dotted line around Bedelia’s leg.

“Scalpel,” Hannibal said, holding out his hand to Will. Will thrust the tool into his hand, stubbornly avoiding contact with Hannibal’s fingers. 

Hannibal bent forward and cut a neat line into Bedelia’s leg with the scalpel, circling all the way around her thigh. 

“Bone saw,” Hannibal said then, pointing to said instrument. Will gulped as he picked it up, unpleasant memories of Florence swirling around in his memory palace as he handed the tool over. 

“Hold her upper leg for me, my love,” Hannibal said, a sharp edge still in his voice. Will didn’t respond but stepped forward to hold Bedelia’s leg as Hannibal cut through it slowly. Will watched with a rush of immense satisfaction as the saw cut through Bedelia’s muscle, bursting veins along the way and causing a steady stream of blood to pour from the site despite the thick bandage they’d tied to her upper thigh to halt the blood flow. Will didn’t mind. 

Bedelia’s leg separated from her thigh with a clean cut, Hannibal nodding in satisfaction as he moved the appendage off to the side. He then turned his attention to what remained of Bedelia’s upper thigh, sewing up the cut where he could and bandaging the rest. 

When Hannibal was satisfied that Bedelia’s bleeding had stopped and that she was stable, he moved her further up on the bed before he turned back to her leg with a hungry gleam in his eyes. He held the bone saw out to Will. 

“Care to cut off her foot, my dear?” Hannibal asked. Will looked into Hannibal’s eyes, disappointed but unsurprised to see anger still brewing in its depths, though it seemed Hannibal had momentarily pushed the anger further back in order to focus on the task at hand. Finally, Will just nodded and grabbed the saw from Hannibal, the heavy weight a comfort in his hand. 

Will turned on the bone saw and cut along the thin red line left by Hannibal’s scalpel. Bedelia’s foot finally loosened and came apart from her ankle, although Will was annoyed to find his cut hadn't been very straight. Hannibal didn’t seem to mind, however, as he tossed Bedelia’s foot into a bucket at the end of the bed. 

“I shall go and prepare the meat. What shall you do, Will?” Hannibal asked. Will knew Hannibal was asking Will to join him in the kitchen, but Will didn’t want to be around Hannibal at the moment. He sighed and shook his head. 

“I’m just going to clean up in here,” Will said, his eyes downcast. Will could feel Hannibal’s icy glare on him, but Will simply turned his back to him. Hannibal stood silently behind him for a moment before he turned and left the room. 

Will stared down at Bedelia’s unconscious body. God, I despise her . He busied himself with meticulously cleaning Hannibal’s surgical tools, sterilizing them before he arranged them neatly into the duffel bag they’d brought. Once everything was cleaned up, Will was out of excuses to avoid Hannibal, so he walked out to the living room where he sat in one of the chairs and watched Hannibal work in the kitchen. 

Hannibal had skinned, washed, and tenderized the meat of Bedelia’s leg. He glanced up as Will settled into a dark corner of the living room, but his gaze didn’t linger. Will noticed the way his shoulders were tense, as if he were preparing for a fight. Fine by me . Will clenched his fist in anticipation as he watched Hannibal season the leg before he stalked outside to Bedelia’s patio to light a fire in the pit he’d built. 

He then came back inside with a long skewer, ignoring Will completely, and stabbed the skewer expertly through the middle of the prepared leg. He carried the leg back out to the fire, placed the skewer on the mechanical spit-roaster, and turned the machine on so that it would rotate slowly, allowing all sides of the leg to be cooked evenly. Once he was satisfied, Hannibal came back in and washed his hands before he disappeared into Bedelia’s room. 

He came out a few minutes later and walked to stand in the middle of the living room, staring down at Will. 

“The rotisserie will take a couple of hours. I gave Bedelia a second dose, she will remain unconscious for a couple hours yet,” Hannibal stated. Will glanced up at him and nodded noncommittally. He slowly set down the water glass in his hand, the sound of the glass hitting the wood magnified in the tense silence of the room. Hannibal looked down at him sharply, his eyes piercing Will with an ice-like anger. Will returned the glare, his own eyes blazing with heated fury. 

Will pulled himself to his feet and walked over to stand in front of Hannibal, hands in his pockets. He came to a standstill in front of Hannibal and raised his chin in defiance. The two men stared at each other, each daring the other to attack first. The tension between the two of them escalated to its breaking point, shattering throughout the room. Will imagined he could see the shards of anger falling around him- they seemed to be glinting with the metallic quality of steel. 

However, the glint of steel was not just a figment of Will’s overactive imagination. Rather, it was the flash of a knife as Hannibal slammed Will against the wall, knife poised above his throat threateningly. Hannibal’s mask had completely slipped away, revealing the swarming blackness of the Wendigo for a split second before Will could see Hannibal’s face again, his lips curled in a snarl. 

“Do it,” Will spat, fire roaring behind his eyes. Hannibal hesitated momentarily, glaciers splitting in his eyes, and Will took advantage of the moment by landing a swift knee to Hannibal’s abdomen. Hannibal doubled over in pain and stumbled backwards. Will followed through with another well-aimed front kick to Hannibal’s stomach, which sent Hannibal reeling backwards to the floor. 

Will dropped to the floor quickly, straddling Hannibal’s hips. Hannibal brought the knife in his hand up and aimed a perfect strike to Will’s arm, slicing through the fabric of Will’s shirt and leaving a shallow cut in his skin, enough to sting. Will knew instinctively that Hannibal didn’t intend to truly hurt him, but the excitement and adrenaline of the fight was overpowering and Will growled, wrenching the knife from Hannibal’s hand and throwing it across the room. His hands went down to clasp Hannibal’s neck tightly, restricting his blood flow. Hannibal sputtered and gasped, but he soon overpowered Will, bringing one of his knees up and flipping them over just as quickly. 

Hannibal leaned over Will then and gripped his hair tightly, yanking it up towards him so he could lean forward and speak into Will’s ear. 

“My compassion for you is inconvenient, my dear,” Hannibal said. Will scoffed at that, letting out a bitter laugh. 

“If you’re partial to beef products, it’s inconvenient to be compassionate towards a cow,” Will said. Hannibal smirked back at that and ran a possessive hand down Will’s chest. Will stifled a moan but didn’t want to give up just yet, deciding instead to reach up to cup the back of Hannibal’s neck and place a searing kiss to Hannibal’s lips. Hannibal relaxed into the kiss minutely, and Will took advantage of Hannibal’s distracted state to slither out from under his grasp, jumping to his feet quickly. 

Hannibal rose elegantly as well and the two men circled each other in the living room, sweat dripping from their foreheads and blood dripping from Will’s arm. Bruises bloomed on Hannibal’s neck and Will curled his lips in satisfaction. Both men were hunched forward in defensive stances, their hands drawn up protectively in front of them. 

Being the more agile of the two, Will moved into Hannibal’s space quickly, following through with an uppercut to Hannibal’s chin. Hannibal retaliated with a kick of his own, landing squarely in Will’s side, the pain radiating sharply from his hip. Will threw another punch, which was blocked by Hannibal swiftly. Yet Will had seen the block coming; he allowed Hannibal to deflect his left jab, stepping forward to counter with a well-aimed elbow to Hannibal’s nose, which cracked with the impact and began to stream blood. 

Will took a step back as Hannibal instinctively brought his hands up to his nose, wiping the blood from his mouth. God, he’s gorgeous . Blood dripped down his neck and stained his clothes, and the flare in his eyes hadn’t waned, though his face had taken on an almost delighted microexpression. He reveled in Will’s violence. 

Will lunged at him then, smashing into Hannibal and sending them both tumbling to the ground, crashing through a glass coffee table in the process. Glass shattered around them and Will landed on top of Hannibal with a thud and he reeled back to look down at Hannibal, both of them panting heavily. 

“Bedroom. Now,” growled Hannibal, shoving Will away from him as he stood. Will scrambled up after him, ripping his own shirt off and flinging it to the floor as he followed behind Hannibal. 

Hannibal led them to one of the many guest rooms in the large house, slamming the door behind them. Hannibal quickly turned on one of the lamps, casting a warm glow about the room and then turned his gaze back to Will, who was standing across the room, shirtless and bloody but clearly thriving off of the energy. 

A moment of tense silence ensued before Hannibal was back on Will again, pinning him against the wall. He attacked Will’s mouth with a rough kiss, biting Will’s bottom lip sharply, which made Will moan loudly. Will’s hands wound themselves in Hannibal’s hair and he tugged relentlessly, exposing Hannibal’s neck to him, which Will pounced on and began sucking bruises into. 

Hannibal took a half step back and shed his own shirt quickly, smirking when he saw the way Will tracked the blood dripping down his chest hungrily. 

“ God , I could rip you apart right now,” Will breathed, his eyes widening as Hannibal reached out to dig his fingers into the cut on Will’s arm before he brought it up to Will’s face, smearing the blood across his cheeks and lips. Hannibal then leant forward for another kiss, Will moaning wantonly as Hannibal licked at Will’s blood coating his own mouth. 

“I would feast upon your heart, beloved,” Hannibal replied huskily as his lips lingered over Will’s. A shiver went down Will’s spine and he stifled a groan as he realized how hard he was, his cock straining against the fabric of his jeans. Hannibal inhaled deeply, smelling Will’s arousal, which only served to make Will’s cock jump in interest. Hannibal smirked and brought his hands down slowly to his belt, unbuckling it while staring deeply into Will’s eyes. 

Will took a steadying breath, knowing he was about to be fucked harder than he had been in his entire life. Yet an equal part warred within him that urged him to fight for dominance, to make Hannibal submit to him and give up the tiresome game of threatening Will whenever they faced a disagreement. 

Will walked towards Hannibal and swatted Hannibal’s hands away from his belt, sliding it from Hannibal’s slacks on his own. Hannibal gazed down at him, curious, as Will slowly unzipped Hannibal and then dragged his slacks and underwear down in one quick motion. 

“Let me make one thing clear, Hannibal. I. Am. Your. Partner ,” Will said, punctuating each of his words with a stroke to Hannibal’s thick cock. “Threaten me again during a legitimate disagreement, and I will see you punished,” Will said, landing a sharp slap to Hannibal’s ass. Hannibal’s eyes darkened and he gripped Will’s hair, yanking Will’s head backward swiftly as he leaned forward to look him in the eye. 

“I accept your conditions,” he growled. “But I too will demand a fitting punishment should you see fit to start dictating terms to me again as if I am your monster on a leash,” Hannibal said, digging his nails painfully into Will’s scalp before letting go altogether. 

“Agreed,” Will panted, his shoulders relaxing variably. His hands shot down to his pants and he slipped out of them, standing naked and fully exposed in front of an equally vulnerable Hannibal. They took in the sight of each other, marveling at the love-infused wounds they’d left on each other’s body. Will found himself ravenous for several things at once. He looked up at Hannibal and licked his lips. 

“I want to fuck you and come deep inside of you, Hannibal. And then I want you to do the same to me,” Will said with a gleam in his eye. “Quid pro quo,” he added with a mischievous smile. In lieu of responding, Hannibal swept Will into his arms and brought their lips crashing together, their tongues exploring each other’s mouth as if they were consuming the very nectar of the gods. 

“ Fuck , Hannibal,” Will gasped as he pushed Hannibal down onto the bed, tumbling after him. He lowered his own head to Hannibal’s cock, flicking his tongue teasingly over the head before swallowing Hannibal as far as he could. Hannibal thrust harshly up into the warmth of Will’s mouth, groaning when Will gagged and began to choke on his cock. 

“Show me you can take it, Will,” Hannibal said. Will glanced up at Hannibal and breathed through his nose obediently before relaxing his throat enough to enable Hannibal’s cock to slide down further. Hannibal’s hips twitched of their own accord before Hannibal grasped Will’s head and thrust into his mouth roughly a couple of times before Will pulled back with a gasp, taking a deep breath. 

Will recovered quickly and dove between Hannibal’s legs, licking at his hole insistently. Hannibal arched his back, his hands fisting the sheets as Will licked into him, opening him up. Will shoved a finger in, stretching Hannibal open before Hannibal pointed to his pants across the room, telling Will he had placed a vial of lube in his pocket. Will shook his head but was unsurprised; Hannibal was always prepared to take Will anywhere and everywhere. Will coated his fingers and Hannibal’s hole in lube, stretching him open quickly to the point where it wouldn’t be too painful. 

“Now you,” Hannibal said, sitting up and flipping Will onto his stomach, leaning behind him. Hannibal scratched harsh lines down Will’s back, causing Will to arch his back as he hissed in a mixture of pain in pleasure. Hannibal smirked and then covered Will’s hole with lube, circling Will’s rim tauntingly.  Will bucked back against him, impatient. Hannibal let the impudence slide, opting to let one of fingers sink into Will, who moaned lowly. 

Will then began to fuck himself on Hannibal’s finger, crying out for more. Hannibal added another finger, stretching him open to the point where he could take three of Hannibal’s fingers. He then leaned forward and bit into Will’s ass cheek, hard enough to draw blood, causing Will to yelp in pain. Will spun around to see a smug Hannibal, blood staining his teeth. Will tackled him down to the bed, splaying Hannibal out on his back before knocking his knees apart and sliding into Hannibal in one swift motion. 

They both let out a moan at the sensation, but Will didn’t give Hannibal any time to adjust. He snapped his hips into Hannibal with a fresh wave of energy, desperate to stake his claim on him. He gripped Hannibal’s hips hard enough to leave bruises and set a punishing face, lifting one of Hannibal’s legs over his shoulder to achieve a better angle. 

Will practically bent Hannibal in half as he clawed his way up the man’s chest, bringing their foreheads together. The room echoed with the sound of skin slapping on skin, both of the men moaning out their pleasure. Hannibal’s eyes locked on Will’s as Hannibal wrapped his legs around Will’s waist tighter, drawing Will into the slick heat of Hannibal’s entrance. Hannibal raked his fingernails over the lines he’d left earlier, delighting in the pained sounds that Will made, his head thrown back in ecstasy. 

Will nuzzled his face into Hannibal’s neck as his hips began to thrust erratically. 

“I fucking hate you sometimes,” Will said, the vitriol in the words undermined by the way Will keened and then spurt his come deep inside of Hannibal. 

Will collapsed on top of Hannibal, pulling himself out slowly and watched with satisfaction as his come leaked out of Hannibal. Hannibal watched him intensely, smug as he watched the possessiveness in Will’s eyes. Will leant forward and licked at Hannibal’s cock teasingly, pressing a fingernail to the slit which made Hannibal moan lowly. 

He sat up quickly, throwing Will to the bed and pinned him down, hands on either side of Will’s head. He pulled at Will’s hair harshly as he kissed him again, their mouths sliding together perfectly. Will moaned at the loss of contact as Hannibal pulled away, only to come back and lean over Will with his belt wrapped in his hand. 

“Hands and knees,” Hannibal bit out sharply, his eyes flashing with hunger. Will swallowed as goosebumps sprang up over his arms, but he turned obediently, settling onto his hands and knees. He flushed in embarrassment as he presented himself for Hannibal. He could feel Hannibal’s heated gaze raking over his exposed hole and the bleeding bite mark on Will’s ass. 

“Hands,” Hannibal ordered, and Will crossed his arms behind his back, settling onto his chest and face instead. Hannibal took hold of Will’s wrists and tightened his belt harshly around Will’s hands, leaving him bound and submissive before Hannibal; the thought alone made Will moan. 

Hannibal wasted no time. He sank into Will to the hilt, clawing at the scratches in Will’s back, delighted to hear the gasp of pain that Will let out. He then settled his hands on Will’s hips and fucked into him with quick but deep thrusts. Will moaned into the bed, unable to move as Hannibal gripped his bound wrists behind him. Hannibal yanked on Will’s hands, bringing Will upwards, his arms pressed against Hannibal’s chest. With the other hand, Hannibal choked Will from behind, thrusting roughly into him. 

Will couldn’t even let out a moan, Hannibal’s hands were too tight around Will’s neck. 

“Oh, Will ,” moaned Hannibal, completely lost to the pleasure of being buried in Will’s warmth. He dropped Will back to the bed, pushing his chest further into the bed to make Will arch his ass up in the air for Hannibal. 

Hannibal reared back and rained down quick successive blows to Will’s right ass cheek before delivering one sharp slap to Will’s left cheek, over the fresh bite mark Hannibal had left. Will couldn’t hold back his scream, the flash of searing pain both too much and not enough . 

“Hannibal!” Will cried out. 

“Are you going to be a good boy for me now, Will? Now that I’ve beaten the brattiness out of you?” Hannibal asked, lips curling into a satisfied snarl as Will let out a long moan at the question, telling Hannibal yes over and over again. Hannibal’s hips snapped forward quickly, his skin slapping against the deep redness of Will’s ass. Hannibal crouched over Will and bit deeply into Will’s shoulder as he came inside Will, feasting on the blood from the wound as his come dripped down Will’s thighs. 

He pulled out and collapsed next to Will with a satiated sigh. He unbuckled his belt from around Will’s hands and Will collapsed onto his stomach gratefully, an arm flung over Hannibal’s chest. They laid like that for several moments, both of them catching their breath and adjusting to the smattering of blows they had lovingly dealt to each other. 

After a few minutes of recovery, Hannibal pulled himself up and walked to the bathroom, coming back with a warm towel. He cleaned Will tenderly before turning to clean himself as well. He walked out of the room briefly and returned with his medical bag, cleaning Will’s bite marks and cut on his arm with alcohol and patted them dry. He then scrounged the room and bathroom before he made his way back with some lotion, which he applied generously to Will’s sore ass, Will moaning blissfully as he did so. 

When Hannibal returned to bed, he had cleaned off the blood from his face and chest. Will cracked open a sleepy eye to watch Hannibal settle back into the sheets. He caught Hannibal glancing over at him, and he knew that Hannibal was still faintly suspicious of why Will had been so adamant about protecting Alana, which had fueled and escalated the disagreement in the first place. Will smiled softly at Hannibal and curled his arm against Hannibal’s chest, leaning his head back to look up at him. Hannibal tilted his head down accordingly and they gazed into each other’s eyes for a few moments, communicating through the love reflected in their eyes. 

“Hannibal, I want you to know-” 

“Allow me to apologize, Will,” Hannibal interrupted. Will looked up at him curiously. “You were right. You are my equal, in every way, beloved, and I should not have treated you as anything less than that when we were discussing our plans for Alana. Forgive me, mylimasis . You are my heart and soul and I should never wish you to be angry with me for not treating you as such.” 

Will’s heart ached sweetly and he ran a hand through Hannibal’s hair comfortingly. 

“That’s all I wanted, Hannibal. And truly, I promise you, I don’t harbor feelings for Alana,” Will scoffed. “She’s pregnant, Hannibal. I don’t want to take a child away from Margot again, and I honestly don’t wish Alana harm. And I wanted to know you’d respect my wishes and do something for me simply because I requested it.” 

Hannibal stared at him for a long moment, clearly calculating his best course of action. Finally, he nodded in understanding. 

“Of course, Will. I allowed petty irritations and jealousy to cloud my judgement. I am afraid I am always a little blind where you are concerned,” Hannibal said fondly. Will smiled back at him before leaning up to plant a gentle kiss to Hannibal’s lips. 

“I love you, Hannibal. More than my heart can handle,” Will said softly. 

“I love you too, Will. My heart beats only for you,” Hannibal said. And Will knew it was true. Hannibal’s expression shifted subtly and he looked at Will curiously, with a hint of nervousness. 

“What is it, love?” Will asked, his hand drawing invisible patterns in the silvery brown hair on Hannibal’s chest. 

“You called yourself my husband. Earlier, when you were talking with Bedelia, you said you were my husband,” Hannibal stated flatly. 

“So I did,” Will said slowly, curious about Hannibal's point. He quirked an eyebrow at him. 

“Is that something you would like to be, Will? My husband?” Hannibal asked, his tone largely neutral though Will knew Hannibal well enough to hear the anxiety and hopefulness underlying the question. 

“Are you asking me to marry you, Dr. Lecter ?” Will asked, his tongue curling over the affectionate title. 

“Suppose I am,” Hannibal said. Off of Will’s smile he added, “yes, yes I am asking. Will you marry me, beloved?” 

“Yes,” Will said without a moment’s hesitation, beaming at Hannibal before sliding on top of him and showering him with kisses. 

*** 

They emerged from the guest room an hour or so later, the air between them no longer tense and angry, having shifted to accommodate the fresh waves of passion and genuine happiness that emanated from the two men. Hannibal and Will slipped easily back into their normal dynamic, the perfect set of partners that could intuit what the other was thinking at any given moment. 

Hannibal came back inside after checking on the roasting leg, announcing that it would be ready shortly. They both changed into what Hannibal deemed appropriate dinner attire, seeing as he had had the foresight to pack a change of clothes for both of them. Hannibal even seemed to be wearing his broken nose proudly as if it were an accessory to his bespoke suit. 

Hannibal set the dinner table with his usual flair, dark purple and blue flowers and fabrics decorating the table amidst flickering candles. Hannibal couldn’t keep his eyes off Will, and Will blushed as they looked at each other with renewed fondness in light of their recent decision to get married. 

“Hannibal,” Will said suddenly. 

“Hmm?” 

“I know we discussed a design already but… I have a new idea. Do you trust me?” 

“Of course,” replied Hannibal. Will smiled coldly. 

“Put Bedelia in a white dress for dinner,” he stated, satisfaction bubbling in his chest as Hannibal gave him a knowing smirk and disappeared into Bedelia’s bedroom. 

He emerged twenty minutes later, carrying a still unconscious Bedelia to the dinner table. He placed her in a chair at the end of the table, smoothing her hair down so that she still looked startling in her beauty, her blonde hair curling around her shoulders and spilling across the pristine white dress she wore. 

“She’ll wake in a few minutes,” Hannibal said brightly. “Take your seat, Will, and I shall bring out dinner.” 

Will took his seat as he was told and folded his napkin over his lap. He watched Bedelia bemusedly and drummed his fingers on the table. He turned to see Hannibal proudly bringing out a spit-roasted leg and placed it on a bed of burning coals in the middle of the table. He cut pieces from the leg for each of them, poured a glass of wine for Bedelia and himself, and then settled into his chair at the other end of the table, across from Bedelia. He smiled at Will with a twinkle in his eye as he took a sip of wine, waiting patiently for Bedelia to wake. 

She came around slowly, her eyes blinking rapidly as she tried to make sense of where she was. Will relished the moment he saw horror eclipse her face as she stared at her stump of a leg in shock. 

“Good evening, Bedelia. I do hope you're hungry,” Hannibal said with a cruel smirk before he nodded to Will to go ahead and eat. Will gladly speared a piece of Bedelia’s leg with his fork and chewed on it slowly while maintaining eye contact with her. He let his eyes slide to Hannibal playfully. 

“You always feed me so well, love,” Will said, not bothering to hide his own cold smile as Bedelia watched them, looking as if she were about to vomit. Hannibal took several bites as well, indulging his hedonism, before he leveled a stern stare at Bedelia. 

“Your meat is getting cold, Bedelia. I suggest you eat it now before I lose my patience,” he stated. Bedelia glared at him and Will watched with satisfaction as Bedelia raised a shaking forkful of herself to her mouth and chewed, swallowing with poorly concealed disgust. They watched her with twin sadistic smiles as she took a couple more bites.  

“You two look so pleased with yourselves,” she spat, glaring at Will in particular. “He’ll come for you eventually, Graham.” She looked as if she were about to continue but Hannibal cut her off, standing. 

“I always hunt after Will, though no longer in the way you suggest,” Hannibal said, walking up to Bedelia before pausing just in front of her. “I long to consume him in all ways except the literal in this sense. I should also thank you, Bedelia. You inspired me to ask for Will’s hand in marriage, which he gladly accepted, so at least you can rest in peace knowing your last act was to bring ‘Bluebeard’ a husband, as Will so delicately stated.” Hannibal removed a sharp knife from his suit jacket, letting the blade glint ominously in the candlelight, delighting in the fear in Bedelia’s face. 

“I have said before that my dearest Will is a jealous creature. He is also righteous, justly violent, swift in his wrath. He is the very Lamb of God St. John predicted in his Revelations . I am afraid, Bedelia, that neither you nor I can evade the wrath of the lamb . My Lamb has asked for a sacrifice, and I am more than pleased to fulfill his every wish,” Hannibal said, sending Will a look full of worshipful adoration. Will felt himself sway as the heady rush of power overwhelmed him. 

Hannibal stepped behind Bedelia’s chair, his eyes never leaving Will’s. He brought the knife to her neck, poised to strike. Bedelia made a valiant effort of trying to remain calm, but Will saw the way her pupils dilated with fear, the way her heartbeat increased as her breathing became quicker. He looked deeply into Hannibal’s eyes and nodded once. 

A flash of steel and then blood splattered across the entire table, arterial spray decorating Will’s face. He felt the warm blood slide down his neck and he looked to Hannibal, his hand coated in blood. Bedelia gasped as blood gurgled from her throat. She choked on her own blood and then slumped forward onto the table, dead. Hannibal’s sacrifice was complete, Will’s wrath satiated. They shared smiles as they moved quickly, packing up the car with their tools, Hannibal taking containers of prime cuts of meat. They then hoisted Bedelia into the back of the car and Will gave directions as Hannibal drove to the ideal site for the tableau that Will had in mind. 

*** 

Jack sighed as his phone rang. He set down his tumbler of scotch and glanced at the caller ID. Freddie . Normally he’d send her to voicemail, but then again she usually didn’t call him at 11:00 at night. 

“This better be good, Lounds,” Jack snapped as he answered the phone. 

“‘Good’ is truly a subjective term, isn’t it? I’d say this event qualifies as good for me, bad for you, and quite tragic for Dr. Du Maurier,” Freddie stated, a smirk apparent in her tone. 

“What the hell happened?” Jack barked into the phone, already standing to dress back into his work clothes and toe on his shoes. 

“I’ve been watching Bedelia Du Maurier’s house for the past week, after what happened with Chilton. I figured they might be coming for Bedelia next. Lecter and Graham arrived at her house several hours ago, and they spent quite some time there. I couldn’t get close enough to see what was happening inside, so I waited,” Freddie said. Jack sighed in frustration. 

“I saw them load a body into their car and drive off. I followed them to a St. John’s Cathedral. They displayed her body, Jack,” Freddie said. Jack cut her off before she could continue. 

“What the hell are you doing following them!?” Jack yelled into the phone. A silence and then Freddie calmly responded. 

“A girl’s gotta make ends meet somehow,” she said. “I already took all the photos I need. I’ll be posting them soon, and you can’t stop me,” she added. 

“Stay at the crime scene, Lounds. I want to have a word with you when I get there,” Jack said sharply as he grabbed his keys and headed to his car. 

“Yeah…. about that. I’m not there anymore. Left about half an hour ago. I’m on Lecter’s trail.” 

Jack wanted to yell at her. He ground his teeth together in irritation. 

“You’re insane. What’re you playing at?” 

“I’m thinking exclusive photos featuring the hideout of the Murder Husbands would pay enough for me to live comfortably for the rest of my life,” she said simply, no concern for herself in her tone. 

“I’ll call you with updates every half hour so you and your team can follow me to their location. You’ll be a couple hours behind, but I’ll lead you to them. You owe me,” Freddie said with a self-satisfied tone before she hung up abruptly, leaving Jack staring at his phone incredulously. 

Jack was at St. John’s Cathedral within the hour, seething in anger. He barked harsh orders to Z and Jimmy to take photographs and he spun around when Alana walked into the church reluctantly, cradling her stomach. 

“I really don’t want to be here, Jack,” she said with a frown. 

“Well neither do I,” Jack spat back at her before he took a moment to collect himself. He then looked back to her with an apologetic grimace. 

“What do you see?” he asked Alana softly. Alana shook her head as she stared at the tableau in front of her. Bedelia stood alone at the altar, fish wire tying her to a nearby pillar and keeping her upright. She wore a knee length white dress which hung off the shoulders. Alana took in her missing leg and the blood spray that soaked the front of her dress, the deep red a harsh contrast to the pristine white. Her throat had been sliced open and a thin white makeshift veil- which looked to be fashioned from a sheer curtain- hung in front of her face. She blanched and turned back to Jack. 

“A jilted bride,” Alana stated simply. Jack’s eyebrows knit in confusion and Alana sighed. “Bedelia and Hannibal were likely intimate, sexually, in Italy. This is making a mockery of that. Probably playing off of the ridiculous title Freddie gave them- the Murder Husbands .” Jack felt a wave of nausea pass through him. Alana shook her head at him, pity apparent in her face. 

“Jack, you know Hannibal is in love with Will. Based on everything we’ve seen- the way Will reacted during the trial, breaking Hannibal out, killing Frederick for his betrayal, and now killing Hannibal’s former lover? I’d say Will is just as much in love with Hannibal as Hannibal is with Will. Theirs is a madness shared by two,” Alana said, patting Jack awkwardly on the back before she turned to leave. 

“We’re chasing them down. We’ll get them, Alana,” Jack said, gripping his fist in determination. Alana looked back at him, over her shoulder. 

“No, you won’t, Jack. They would never allow it.” 

Jack led a caravan of FBI agents and SWAT, following the directions Freddie updated with every half hour. They had already been driving for hours at this point, speeding across the country and across state lines with alarming speed. Jack gripped the steering wheel, his mind reeling as he took in the last message Freddie had left. 

Freddie had told them she’d arrived at their hideout at last. A small house in the upper Northeast, positioned at a cliffside. Jack and the team were still two hours away, and he’d given Freddie clear instructions to stay put. He prayed that she would. His prayer went unanswered. 

*** 

“Someone followed us back here,” Will said to Hannibal, concern apparent in his voice. Hannibal rubbed Will’s shoulders soothingly. 

“I know,” he said simply. Will cocked an eyebrow at him. 

“I am quite certain I know who it is. I detected a faint scent at the cathedral, a scent I hadn’t smelled since the night I found out about your betrayal,” Hannibal said, his eyes darkening. 

“Freddie,” Will breathed. Hannibal nodded. 

“I only saw one car,” Will said. “She’s alone. But probably called Jack. We don’t have long. An hour, or two at most.” 

“Yes, I would be inclined to agree with you,” Hannibal responded. He pulled Will into their bedroom and laid down on the bed. “Lie with me,” he said softly. Will lowered himself to the bed and laid his head on Hannibal’s chest as Hannibal ran his hands up and down Will’s spine soothingly. 

“I want to kill her,” Will said after a few moments of silence. “Allow me to give that to you, Hannibal. Allow me to complete what I should have done all those years ago. An offering, for you, love,” Will said. Hannibal stilled and Will could tell he was battling the residual pain he still harbored over Will’s past betrayal. 

“Are you sure? We could sail out now. It would be safer than the risk of staying. The FBI could arrive at any moment,” Hannibal countered. Will gripped Hannibal’s jaw and made eye contact with him, pouring emotion into his words. 

“Please, Hannibal. I didn’t choose this life with you for safety . And I want to finish this, to right a wrong from my past. For you. For us. And for our new life. Not to mention she’ll make our third victim. Our first sounder together, hmm?” Will said, kissing Hannibal’s jaw slowly and eliciting a low growl from the older man. Hannibal gripped the back of his neck tightly. 

“My cunning boy,” Hannibal said with a fond smile. “Very well. I will indulge you. We needn’t go out to her, her curiosity has always been her downfall. She’ll walk straight into our trap; she’ll sneak in soon, thinking we’ve gone to sleep.” Hannibal looked down at Will. “And then I want you to show me what you can do, precious boy.” Will blushed and then nodded, determined to make Hannibal proud. 

An hour and a half later, Will sat up from where he’d been sucking Hannibal’s cock in earnest. He heard the front door open and he started to smile. He tucked Hannibal back into his pants and gave him an apologetic glance. 

“I’ll finish that for you later, love,” Will said with a smirk. 

Hannibal and Will listened quietly to the sounds of Freddie’s camera flashing in the living room. Will nodded to Hannibal, who jumped through the open window in their bedroom to circle around to the front door as Will opened the bedroom door and walked out to the living room, his heartbeat rising in excitement. 

“Hello, Freddie,” he drawled. Freddie froze and turned back to look at him with a simpering smile. 

“Hello, Will,” she said, edging closer to the front door before she turned and bolted towards it. Hannibal threw open the door at the perfect time and scooped her into his arms, her arms and legs flailing wildly. He threw her to the ground in the middle of the living room and Will circled around her, spinning a knife around in his hand. 

“We have unfinished business, Freddie,” Will stated. Hannibal took a seat in an armchair across the living room, crossing his legs and watching Will intensely. Will blushed under the heat of his gaze and the tingle in his spine spurned him on. 

“Not to mention it’s incredibly rude to break into someone’s home,” Will sneered. Freddie tried to scramble up from the floor but Will was on top of her within a second, pinning her down. 

“It’s okay, Freddie. You only need to be scared for a moment longer,” Will said. Freddie’s eyes flashed in fear at the allusion to their past violent encounter. Will responded by simply raising the knife in his hand before plunging it into her chest, ripping her chest cavity open. He sunk his hand deep inside of her chest, reveling in the warm blood that flooded his arms. He shook with the overwhelming rush of power as his hand closed around Freddie’s heart before he ripped it from her chest. 

He panted as he tried to catch his breath, his eyes locking with Hannibal. Hannibal beckoned him closer with a curl of his finger and Will went obediently, crawling across the floor to Hannibal before depositing Freddie’s heart in Hannibal’s outstretched hand. 

“She’s not only metaphorically heartless, but now literally heartless as well,” Will said with an exhausted smile. Hannibal beamed down at him and Will felt Hannibal’s pride in him wrap around him warmly. 

Will noticed Hannibal was still hard, his cock leaking pre-come through his slacks. Will unzipped him and lapped at his cock greedily, Hannibal not minding as Will left bloody handprints across his clothes and cock. Hannibal thrust into Will’s mouth roughly, delighting in the way Will choked on him and whimpered when Hannibal pulled his hair and fucked his mouth relentlessly. He came down Will’s throat in a matter of minutes, Will swallowing his come happily before looking up at Hannibal with lidded eyes, his face covered in blood and come. 

“How magnificent you are, Will. My beautiful boy,” Hannibal whispered, combing his hands through Will’s hair. Will pulled himself to his feet and nodded to Hannibal. 

“We don’t have much time. Help me display her,” he said. Hannibal stood quickly and helped Will carry Freddie out to the patio, where the sun was just beginning to rise over the horizon. Will pointed to a tall tree off to the side of the patio, its lush green leaves blowing in the slight breeze. 

Will walked back inside to grab the black silk sheets in their closet and some fishing wire, walking back out to Hannibal with a smile. He froze as he heard sirens roaring in the distance, the volume rising alarmingly fast. 

“Hold her up,” he said to Hannibal quickly. Hannibal held Freddie’s nude form against the trunk of the tree as Will tied her to the tree with the fishing wire. He then wrapped the black silk sheets around her breasts and threaded it through her legs, ensuring she was completely covered. He closed her eyes and fluffed out her red hair, blowing beautifully in the wind. 

“Lilith,” Will said to Hannibal over the screech of the sirens. Hannibal came to Will’s side and held him close, pulling Will back onto the patio so they could admire the tableau from a distance. 

“In many Jewish traditions Lilith is a mother of demons; in some modern interpretations, she is a woman who refused to submit to man or God. Which Lilith is Freddie?” Hannibal asked. Will thought it over for a minute. 

“This tableau isn’t solely a mockery of Freddie. It’s an homage to her as well. I did admire that about her- her independence, her determination. But in the long run she took it too far; she disrespected Abigail, had no concern for the wellbeing of others, exploited vulnerable people for her own profit, much like Chilton did. She may have several admirable qualities, but she was still a mother of demons, a queen of hell, in my eyes,” Will said simply, turning in Hannibal’s arms to clutch to his chest, fear beginning to take over as he saw a large fleet of black cars speeding down the driveway towards the house. He looked up at Hannibal in panic. 

“I can’t lose you,” he said, digging his nails into Hannibal’s back. “I won’t lose you,” he growled. Hannibal hugged him tightly against his chest as he kissed Will’s forehead. 

“It’s alright beloved, I’m right here. I will not leave your side,” Hannibal whispered in Will’s ear as Will looked up at him, eyes blazing. 

“I don’t intend for you to be caught a second time. Do you trust me, Hannibal?” Hannibal gazed back down into Will’s eyes as the sound of boots stomping across the yard filled their ears. They saw bodies in black bulletproof suits surround them on all sides, cornering them at the edge of the cliff. 

“Unequivocally,” Hannibal answered. 

“WILL!! LECTER!! FREEZE WHERE YOU ARE! HANDS IN THE AIR!” Jack bellowed, storming to the front of the SWAT team that all had their guns trained on Hannibal and Will. Will slid in front of Hannibal, throwing his hands in the air to protect Hannibal as best as he could, knocking the two of them back a couple feet in the process, leading them right to the edge of the cliff. 

Hannibal followed Will’s lead, raising his hands as he stood behind Will. 

“Hello, Jack,” Hannibal said with an amused smile. 

Jack looked at the two of them with seething anger. His eyes took in Will, hair wild and drenched in blood.  He glanced over at the tree that housed Freddie’s tableau. He inhaled sharply before he twisted his face in disgust as he looked back at Will and Hannibal. 

“ Get on your knees, ” Jack growled. Will and Hannibal didn’t move. 

“I’m afraid that’s not going to be possible, Jack,” Will said. Jack’s eyes widened and a shadow of dismay flickered over his face. 

“Will, I don’t want to kill you. Or him. Please,” Jack pleaded. 

Will’s heart twisted at the pain in Jack’s voice. Yet the feel of Hannibal’s warmth pressed against his back and the feel of his beating heart were infinitely more precious than anything Jack could possibly say or do. 

“Neither do I. But if we’re to die, I rather Hannibal die by my hands than yours,” Will said. 

As soon as the words left his mouth, he spun on his heels and wrapped his arms around Hannibal tightly, chest pressed against chest as he lunged forward and pushed them off the edge of the cliff. A bullet left Jack’s gun with an angry metallic reverberation, chasing Hannibal and Will as they left the cliff’s edge. 

A searing pain in the back of Will’s right shoulder made him cry out but it was muffled by the wind as they plummeted towards the water. Hannibal clung desperately onto Will as they fell, Will winding himself tightly around Hannibal in return as they crashed through the sea and let themselves be claimed by the roiling waves of the Atlantic. 

Chapter Text

“ Shit,” Will murmured, sighing as he peeled off his shirt and jumped into the pristine cerulean water of the lagoon. He dove down to the sandy ocean floor, his hand curling around the wrench he’d just dropped. Will swam back up towards the surface and pulled himself back onto the sailboat, toweling himself off before he leaned back over the stern to fiddle with the motor. 

Twenty minutes later, Will stood with a satisfied smile and wiped the sweat from his body before pulling his shirt back on. He packed up his tools, toed on his shoes, and slung the bag over his shoulder. He then hopped off the boat and made his way over to the local bar, its faded and chipped pink paint and glittering bottles of alcohol a welcome sight. He plopped down at the bar and nodded at Anton, who brought him his usual (non-alcoholic) mango margarita with a smile. 

“You done with Alvaro’s boat?” Anton asked as he leant back against the counter casually, an easy peace between the two men. Will regarded the man for a moment as he allowed himself a moment to enjoy the breeze of Anton’s fan and the shade offered by the eaves of the roof overhead.

“Yeah. Damn rudder kept givin’ out. Fixed now,” Will said, his formerly repressed Cajun accent weaving its way through his voice. He sipped on the frozen drink quietly, grateful for the reprieve from the harsh sun. He looked down at his arms and marveled at how tan he’d gotten in the past year, something he hadn’t even known his fair skin had been capable of. He absentmindedly picked at a scab of a long gash on his forearm, unaware of Anton’s curious glance at the cut. 

“How someone like you always end up lookin’ like you got in a bar fight? You don’t even go nowhere ‘round here that’d cause you to run in with guys like that,” Anton said, a faint glimpse of concern flashing in his dark brown eyes. Will laughed and played it off, flashing him a charming smile as he answered. 

“I get into a lot of fights with the boats I fix,” Will said. “I always come out on top but never unscathed.” 

The answer seemed to please Anton. He got back to washing some of the nearby glasses and Will mentally sighed in relief, glad he hadn’t invited further scrutiny. 

“What time does Alvaro usually come by on Fridays?” Will asked. Anton shrugged. 

“About 7 or 8, I suppose.” 

Will nodded and drained the rest of his drink, pulling out his wallet and leaving Anton 500 pesos. 

“I gotta head home. If you see Alvaro tonight, tell him his boat’s fixed and that I’ll be back at the marina on Monday and we can talk then.” Anton nodded but then stopped Will as he went to stand up. 

“You sure you don’t want to stay until he comes, amigo? I can make you some dinner, on the house, of course,” Anton said with a kind smile. Will shook his head. 

“I can’t, but I appreciate it, Anton. I told my friend I’d help with the cooking tonight,” Will said. Anton’s face flickered with something akin to suspicion. 

“Your friend- Dr. Jacobsen, is it?- doesn’t come down to the village much. Perhaps he should. Both of you are welcome at my bar, any time. Your secret is safe with me, compadre,” Anton said with a wink. 

Will froze, panic setting in. His face must have shown it because Anton leaned across the bar and touched Will’s arm in reassurance. Will flinched involuntarily, the touch having taken him by surprise. He regarded Anton warily. 

“It is 2016, no? ‘Love is love,’ my friend. I only meant to say that you and your husband are always welcome with me. Certainly there are areas in Havana to avoid, but you two are safe here,” Anton said with a smile. Will simply stared at him, his eyes calculating. 

“Who said Mikkel is my husband?” 

Anton scoffed and pointed at the small silver chain around Will’s neck, which held his silver wedding band, though he always kept it tucked underneath his shirt, hidden for safety. 

“I saw your ring when you took your shirt off to jump in the marina today. It simply… confirmed… what I had already thought when I saw you two arrive a year ago. Relax . The village either doesn’t know or doesn’t care; you and your husband are safe here,” Anton said, smiling softly.

Will couldn’t help the unease that settled in his stomach but as he tapped into his overabundance of empathy, he was glad to see that Anton’s sentiment was genuine. A rush of affection surged in Will, likely due to the fact he was finally getting a chance to proudly show off his relationship with Hannibal. He reached up to his neck and took the chain off, opening the clasp so the ring could slide off. He slid it onto his ring finger, a soft smile gracing his face as he realized how good it felt to wear the ring in public. 

“Thank you, Anton,” Will said quietly. “I know Mikkel will be pleased to know I’m not hiding my ring.” 

“Of course,” Anton said. “As I said, you and your husband are welcome down here anytime.” 

“My husband borders on being a recluse. But perhaps we can find the time at some point,” Will replied. It was a lie, naturally, given that Hannibal frequently voiced his frustration at being so cautious, but Will had made him swear to lay low for a good while given that Hannibal’s face had been plastered across news outlets all across the Americas and it wouldn’t be so hard for the news to have reached Cuba in that time. 

Will bid Anton a good night and walked over to where his mo-ped was parked. He flipped the scooter on and with one last wave, began the drive home. 

Hannibal’s safe house was about twenty minutes away from the marina, situated on a large plot of land relatively obscured by trees at the top of a winding hill. The location provided ample privacy while still allowing the two of them to live close enough to a small village along a marina at the edge of Havana proper. Will had been able to make friendly with locals enough to have a reputation as a good boat mechanic, despite his awkwardness. Although Hannibal wasn’t living the extravagant public life he had perhaps wanted, he was quite content with the mystery and intrigue that surrounded him as the ‘other man in that fancy house.’ 

It was that ‘fancy house’- a restored historical mansion- at which Will arrived some half hour later, jumping off his moped with a suppressed grin, shirtless, and holding a curiously shaped bundle in his arms. 

He walked up to their front door and slipped inside, listening for Hannibal quietly. He could hear faint sounds of melodious music drifting from the other side of the house and he made his way to Hannibal’s study quietly. When he came to a pause at the doorway, Hannibal stopped playing his harpsichord. 

Without looking back at Will, he said slowly, “Another one, mylimasis ?”

Will couldn’t hold back the genuine laughter that fell from his lips, like honey dripping from leaves in the hazy heat of summer. Hannibal did turn to look at him then, fondness in his eyes despite the frown he wore. He sighed. 

“Let me see it, then.” 

With delight, Will walked over to Hannibal and sat next to him on the harpsichord’s bench. He pulled back his shirt to reveal the bundle in his arms, which turned out to be a rumpled and frazzled-looking tabby cat who glared menacingly up at them. Hannibal seemed genuinely surprised for once, glancing up at Will with a subtle knit in his eyebrows, eyes blank. 

“This is not a dog,” Hannibal stated flatly, causing Will to laugh fondly. 

“No… it is not. I normally am not a cat person, but I was thinking perhaps you would be…” 

Hannibal looked at him, wariness still floating in his eyes. 

“Of all people, Will, I should not have to tell you that I am not known for making attachments.” 

Will nodded and unfurled the cat from his shirt, the tabby stretching languidly and sending a curious look at Hannibal with her green eyes before she jumped onto his lap, rubbing her head against his stomach. Hannibal sat still, his hands sitting awkwardly at his sides as if he weren’t quite sure what to do with the furry creature. 

Will watched in curiosity as Hannibal slowly brought his hand up to the cat’s head, gently scratching behind her ears. The cat purred her pleasure and Hannibal relaxed a little bit, winding his hands through her fur. Will could feel that Hannibal was still a little uncomfortable but had a budding sense of curiosity within him that Will was absolutely positive would facilitate a good relationship between the two. 

“I think she might make a good companion for you, Hannibal,” Will said softly. Hannibal’s eyes shot to his and Will raised a placating hand. “An animal companion, that is. I knew you were about to interrupt to tell me that I alone am your ideal companion,” Will said with a knowing smirk. 

“Hmm, such a clever boy you are,” Hannibal murmured, bringing a hand up to cup Will’s jaw as he gave Will a tender kiss. 

“I have the ideal name for her, too. I’ve seen her many times on the way home, and although she was surely undernourished, she still held her head high and elegantly as she cleaned her paws. Her regalness reminded me of you. It may not be the best anniversary present but…,” Will said with a fond smile, reaching up to run his fingers softly through Hannibal’s hair, “I named her Circe.” 

Hannibal gave him a genuine smile at that, a knowing glint in his eye as he regarded Will. 

“Circe is infamous for turning her enemies or those who offend her into animals,” Hannibal stated. Will smirked back. 

“Sounds like someone I know, who turns banal and cruel men into pigs.” 

“Circe is also a goddess. Are you implying I am a god, dearest Will?” 

“You told Bedelia that I was the Lamb of God in the same breath that you called me your Lamb . I think you already see yourself as God, Hannibal,” Will said, shaking his head in mock exasperation. Hannibal simply smirked in reply and leant forward to bite playfully at Will’s neck. 

Will selected the tomatoes Hannibal had sent him to the garden to collect and then whistled to call his pack as he made his way back inside. The five dogs bounded back to him, Roux in the lead. Circe was sitting on the porch watching them haughtily and Will laughed to himself, knowing his gut had been right when it told him the cat had a personality similar to Hannibal’s. 

“Thank you, Will. If you wouldn’t mind slicing these onions for me, please,” said Hannibal, depositing a couple of onions in front of Will. Will nodded and went to work, chopping absentmindedly as Hannibal prepared their most recent victim- a man who consistently abused women and children and incidentally also happened to bump into Hannibal at the market and had not apologized. 

A few hours later, Hannibal shooed him out of the kitchen and dining room so that he could prepare whatever extravagant design he had in mind. Will had mumbled something under his breath about Hannibal’s ‘pretentious ass’ and had been reprimanded with a sharp smack to his backside before Hannibal sent him to their room with instructions to shower and change into something nice. 

Thirty minutes later, Hannibal emerged from their bedroom in a sharp suit and offered his arm to Will, who rolled his eyes but still blushed as he wrapped his own arm around Hannibal’s and allowed himself to be led to the dining room. 

When they walked in, Will found his heart incredibly warm as he glanced at the romantic display in front of him, candles flickering amidst a macabre collection of random bones and flowers the color of blood. 

“Happy anniversary, beloved,” Hannibal said, planting a kiss on Will's temple as he guided him to his seat. 

“Thank you, Hannibal. It’s beautiful,” Will said, smiling as they cut into their latest shared kill, the memories of the two of them dripping in blood drifting to the forefront of his mind. 

After dinner, Hannibal led Will to the study and lit more candles as he put on a record of soft classical music which Will was not exactly familiar with. Hannibal stalked across the room to Will, heat blazing in his eyes. 

“Dance with me,” Hannibal said lowly, offering a hand to Will. Before Hannibal, Will really hadn’t been the biggest fan of dancing, but Hannibal had begun to change him. Will sighed in acquiescence but smiled to show Hannibal that it was truly a pleasure. 

They danced well into the night, the two men gripping each other tightly, loath to let go. Will settled his head on Hannibal’s chest, nuzzled against his neck, as Hannibal rested his face on Will's temple. They turned slowly, the soft violin in the background lulling them into a sweet and easy peace. 

“Thank you, Will,” Hannibal spoke into the silence, his voice tight with emotion. Will pulled back to look at Hannibal and was shocked to see tears streaming down Hannibal’s face. It was still such a rare occurrence for Hannibal to be so completely unguarded but Will adjusted quickly, bringing his hand up to stroke along Hannibal’s jaw. 

“What is it, love? What are you thanking me for?” Will asked softly, his blue eyes wide and concerned as he gazed into Hannibal’s golden-brown eyes brimming with tears. 

“For coming to me. When I was in prison. It did not matter whether you killed me or freed me; all I wanted was for you to be the one to hold my fate close to your chest. I feared you would not come at all, that you would leave me to die an impersonal and clinical death. But you came, beloved. Despite everything that stood between us, the wounds and scars we had dealt each other, you came for me,” Hannibal said, his voice uncharacteristically soft as he gazed at Will in amazement. “And now… to hold your hand in mine and call you my husband; to hunt with you and make love to you, it is all I have ever wanted. You have defied every expectation, every estimation I had of you. I could still never entirely predict you, mylimasis .” 

Will felt like he was trying to swallow a rock, his throat was so clogged with emotion. He stubbornly blinked against the tears in his own eyes and clutched at Hannibal’s neck roughly. 

“I have never known myself as I know myself with you. You took me by the hand and revealed to me my deepest desires. You wound your way through my mind and to my heart; I look at you and I see myself, as I likewise feel your presence within me. There was never any other option, Hannibal. And you knew that. You knew I would come.” 

“I hoped.” 

“You knew.” 

The silence was deafening as the two stared at each other intensely, each trying to desperately read the emotions warring behind the eyes of the other. 

“I remembered something recently, Hannibal,” Will said, staring up at Hannibal from under his eyelashes. He licked his lips as he drew out his next words. Hannibal tracked the movement with a dark hunger. 

“The night we broke out of prison, you pointed out our getaway car. Then, you just so happened to find a flannel- in my customary plaid no less- in the backseat that you used for my wound? And then there’s the fact I suddenly found myself sleeping for six hours straight, unable to recall how you changed into clothes that miraculously were just your size and style. You told me you had stopped for the medication to drug me and fix our wounds, but I see the truth now,” Will said, eyes narrowing at Hannibal. “You knew I would come for you and we would leave together. Didn’t you?” 

Hannibal’s face had contorted itself back into the expressionless mask he had often worn when Will first met Hannibal. Will barely managed to suppress the shiver that threatened to run along his spine as Hannibal looked at him, head cocked slightly to the side in thought. 

“Yes, I was fairly confident we would be leaving together” he said finally. Then, “Does that bother you?” 

Will looked at Hannibal for a long moment, thinking. Such a bastard . 

“No,” Will sighed. “Besides, I figured it out months ago when Chiyoh dropped a comment that hinted at the fact she’d helped arrange for that. It just confirms what we already knew about each other.” 

“And what might that be?” 

“That we can’t live without one another,” Will said, allowing himself to smile fondly at Hannibal. Hannibal’s eyes softened at the sight and his mask slowly dissolved, revealing the monster-man that formed the essence of who Hannibal was. And Will loved that monster-man. 

“Make love to me, Hannibal,” Will whispered in Hannibal’s ear before he started trailing kisses down Hannibal’s neck. 

For all Hannibal’s oddities, dubious morals, and sadism, there was nothing that could eclipse Hannibal’s love for Will. Hannibal led Will to their bedroom and, ever the romantic, lit candles throughout the room before displaying Will on the silk sheets of their bed, standing above Will to drink in his nude form and the way it paired so well with the deep emerald of the sheets. 

Memories of their first year of marriage- a marriage wherein blood spray was tantamount to holy communion and roses made of human flesh decorated their altar- flashed through Will’s mind and he clung desperately to Hannibal, his nails leaving lines tinted with blood down Hannibal’s back. Every strained pant of breath that Will took reminded him of what he’d almost lost little over a year ago, when Will had almost sunk a knife into the man he loved. Every heartbeat of Hannibal’s that Will felt in the man’s chest reassured Will that Hannibal’s life was his and would always remain that way forevermore. 

As Will threw his head back and moaned in ecstasy as Hannibal thrust into him at a pace that was torturously slow, Hannibal grabbed Will’s hand and kissed the wedding ring that decorated his finger. Will felt as if he could cry from the sight and reached out to feel Hannibal’s ring under the palm of his own hand, the cold steel reinforcing the fact that they were cuffed together for this life and the next, a testament to their very own love crime. 

Two souls danced through the home they’d built for two. 

Both content, knowing that in their conjoinment they were made whole. 

The two, unable to survive separation, fully blurred at last, victorious; transformed.