Chapter Text
“Agent Graham?” More insistent knocking.
Hannibal raised his eyebrows in amusement and looked at Will, who was still staring at the door.
"A-yes. I'm here, Edwin," he called.
Edwin let out a breath that could be heard from outside. "We were worried when you didn't come back for a long time. Is everything okay?"
Hannibal struggled to get out of Will's grip. Will took his hand off of Hannibal's mouth and grabbed his wrists to steady him, hoping the scuffle wouldn't be heard.
"Yes, Edwin," he said in an ironic tone, as he threw a warning look at Hannibal's impatience. "Your cocktail gave me indigestion. Need I elaborate?" Then, moving only his lips, he pleaded, "Please, stop!"
"No, thanks."
"You're not saying I've been rotting my stomach with beer," Edwin called out as he walked toward the urinal.
When he heard him walk away, he let out the breath he was holding. He looked from Hannibal's rigid jaw to his cold eyes. Nothing was readable. He had also put an end to the annoying, mocking, condescending look. Except for the clenched jaw, he seemed calm.
When the hands he held on his wrists stopped resisting, he released his wrists after making sure he would stay still. Then he ran his hand through his hair in distress. He was focused on the door, waiting for Edwin to come out of the bathroom as soon as possible.
He flinched at the warm breath on his cheek, but he didn't pull away. He accepted it as Hannibal's arms wrapped around his waist. He let the tension between them ease. He placed his hands on Hannibal's biceps as a wordless thank you for not causing trouble, and leaned his head on his shoulder.
"Alana's really worried, you'd better hurry. Otherwise she might want to come and take a look herself," Edwin laughed as he zipped up his jacket.
Will let out a hissing breath, signaling that he was running out of patience.
"Okay, okay, I'm leaving."
He sighed in relief when he heard the door open and close, and his cheeks rubbed together as he lifted his head off Hannibal's shoulder. He let his whiskers scratch Hannibal's smooth face. When they came face to face, Hannibal's hat hit Will's forehead and he winced, groaning softly. Hannibal took off his hat and kissed Will's lips chastely. As if unintentionally, he parted his lips abruptly and turned his head away.
When their lips parted, Will made another shushing gesture. He quietly unlocked the door and looked into the empty hallway of the restroom. When he was sure Edwin was gone, he went back into the stall.
As soon as they entered, Hannibal's arms wrapped around his waist and back again. Their foreheads rested together. Will's eyes closed as Hannibal's gaze fell to Will's lips.
When he felt Hannibal's hand move lower than his waist, toward his hip, he opened his eyes and looked at Hannibal. "You want to add harassment to your record?" he muttered under his breath.
Hannibal laughed humorlessly, continued without pausing, and reached into his back pocket. He pulled out his phone. Their temples were still touching. He couldn't see what he was doing on the phone because he was behind his in this position. He turned away to see what he was doing, and after dialing his own number on the phone, he saw that she was going into messages. He was sending a message to himself.
Then he returned to his cold expression and asked, "Did you learn anything?"
Will shook his head before pulling away from Hannibal completely and putting his hands on his hips. "Nothing tangible. We're meeting with a few people tomorrow." He took his phone from Hannibal's hand and put it in his front pocket. "I'll text you the details, but it might take longer than we thought."
Hannibal nodded curtly, leaning against the wall with his arms folded in front of him, studying Will's face.
“It was very rude of you not to introduce your new little friend.” Will rolled his eyes at the sound of that annoyingly sarcastic tone and looked up as if he were begging for patience. It was an expression you should not be fooled by. It was one that could turn serious at any moment.
Will, like Hannibal, leaned against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. They were facing each other. "The person I kissed was Alana. What could it be that you have a problem with Edwin?" Will answered more calmly than before, but there was still tension in his voice.
Hannibal approached with frightening slowness. He stroked Will's face with the backs of his fingers. "This impudence may have consequences you would not wish for. Are you taking these into account?"
Will looked up and met Hannibal's gaze without hesitation. "You're like a child whose toy has been taken away from him."
"It's not much fun to see other people play with my toy."
Without breaking eye contact for even a moment, he whispered, "I'm not a toy."
“And this is not a game,” Hannibal finished immediately.
Will was lost in the confusing images racing through his mind for a moment. The last sentence seemed to remind him of the reality of the situation.
Will released the breath he had been holding, wetting his lips with his tongue. Then he glanced at the door. "I have to go. You too-" He blinked, turning to Hannibal. He hesitated to meet his eyes for a moment. Instead, he glanced from the door to the open zipper of the leather jacket he was wearing. "Please, be careful. You shouldn't be wandering around like that." Finally, he blinked again, bringing it up to his eyes.
They looked dark brown in the dim light. The sharp coldness in their eyes remained, but they had a searching expression, as if they were trying to understand something. He watched his squirm under the weight of his gaze.
He didn't continue this torture any longer. He leaned toward his ear and brought his lips closer to it so that they would touch his ear with each word he spoke. "You too, please, be careful," he whispered, imitating Will. "Be careful, William." This time he said it in a warning tone.
When the hands on him were gone, he unlocked the door and stepped outside, turning to Hannibal before closing the door behind him. He smiled. It was a genuine smile. A little hurt, a little longing—the kind of smile Hannibal wanted to see more of.
But it didn't take long before he closed the door. At the last moment, he saw the coldness in Hannibal's eyes almost break. But the door was closed now. He shouldn't open it again. He shouldn't attract any more attention.
Even though there was only a thin wall between them, he began to feel lonely and restless. Maybe Edwin was right. He couldn't even find the motivation to walk without his push. But he had to.
They had sat there for at most ten more minutes when he returned to the others. They were relieved to see that Will was in the same mood as Edwin, no matter what he had said.
When they arrived home, they found Jack asleep in the armchair, which had been turned towards the window.
Everyone wanted to get to bed as soon as possible, so Will said to the others, "You go ahead. I'll wake Jack."
“Jack?” A gentle shake of his arm was all he needed.
Jack opened his eyes, uneasily. "What happened?"
"You fell asleep on the couch."
He nodded and tried to stretch his body as he sat up in the chair. "How was your day?"
"I was going to tell you about that. Let's talk in your room."
"Why isn't he here?" He frowned.
"I'll explain, come on." Will headed for the stairs, Jack Crawford following close behind.
He didn't turn on the lamp when he entered the room. Just as Jack was about to ask what was going on, Will acted first.
"He's following me."
“What?” His eyes immediately went to the window on the bed’s side. As he was about to walk to the window, Will grabbed his arm.
"Don't look. I don't know if he's here right now. But he knows this place."
"How did you know? Did you see him?" Jack hissed angrily.
“No. He showed himself. At the bar.” Will tried to sound casual, but he was nervous. He deliberately kept his voice low because he didn’t want the others to hear. Especially Alana. “He came up to me when I was in the bathroom.”
“Did he hurt you?” His eyes scanned Will’s body. He looked genuinely angry now. His breathing was audible.
"No. He said I was late with the news, he came to warn me." Will sat on the edge of Jack's bed, careful not to be seen through the window. He didn't think he was here right now, but he still had to be careful. "We need to take steps now knowing we're being watched. Hannibal is very susceptible to suspicion. We shouldn't give him any leverage. We shouldn't talk too much about Hannibal. We should remember that our conversations with him are confidential. I can only reach him at night or when I'm not with you. I will share my conversations with you, but I can't do that casually."
"Okay. I'll warn them about that too." Jack stuffed his hands into his pockets. He was still trying to control his anger. "How dare he come that close?"
"Does he have anything to worry about? You can't even see him right under your nose unless he wants to be seen," Will continued sarcastically. "Which you couldn't see anyway."
Jack took a deep breath of relief. Then he pulled the armchair that was next to the wall across from Will and sat down. "I understand if you don't want to talk to me about this, but there's something that's been bothering me."
Jack reached from his seat to the wardrobe drawer. He opened the bottom drawer and took out a folded piece of paper.
Will immediately recognized this as the picture he was talking about. Here we go.
He hoped it wasn't the kind of picture he feared, but rather one of the ones Hannibal had drawn in his study that Will had never seen.
Jack handed the paper to Will without opening it. This made Will even more nervous. When he picked it up, he could tell by the texture that it was a page from his notebook. He opened it slowly. His heart began to beat painfully fast.
Smile.
Maybe if this was one of the pictures he drew while imagining himself naked, he would feel less embarrassed.
He had only drawn the mouth and chin. It was in the middle of the page. He remembered this moment. It was just before they kissed in the gazebo. He had watched his smile for a long time and said he was trying to memorize it for his memory palace.
The man in this picture looked happy. He shouldn't have been, at least not this happy.
“What was your relationship like? I mean—” Will was surprised that he couldn’t bring himself to say anything now, considering Jack’s indiscretions. “How did he treat you?”
Will folded the paper back into place and laid it on the bed. He rested his elbows on his knees and ran his fingers through the stubble on his chin. "He was acting the same way he did when we didn't know who he was. Like a friend."
"Dr. Du Maurier said that the most understandable manifestation of his interest in you was love." He rubbed his hands together in annoyance. He seemed to be stalling for time. He clenched his teeth. "He is—"
Will stopped mid-sentence, not listening to the question he knew was coming. “No. He didn’t do anything to me that I didn’t want to.”
"Can you be sure of that? While I have you under my spell-"
"I know. It wasn't like being hypnotized, Jack. It wasn't like wasting time." Will pressed his index finger to his temple as he spoke. "It was something where you felt like that was where you wanted to be. I felt like I was in the place I knew best, the place I felt safest. I remember every moment with Abigail and his. Maybe it's not easy to understand. It was like a code hardwired into my mind," he said, and swallowed hard. "I was happy when I was with Hannibal Lecter, Jack. I could see that he was trying to make me happy, and after a while I wanted to make him happy too. It was like I knew Hannibal and didn't know him at the same time."
Jack's jaw was set. He tried to imagine how this must feel to Will right now. "How did you break the bonds in your mind?"
Will felt like he was really struggling to explain. He took a deep breath. “Something kept reminding me of the past. An image. An image I had of Hannibal’s dark side. I’d seen him since the hospital. He started visiting again. He would come to me every night in my dreams. I didn’t realize until later that he had come to warn me. I saw him kill Abigail over and over again.” He covered his face with his hands, stroking them briefly. “Then I remembered. It was like I had forgotten. I remembered what he did. To me, to you, to Alana, to Abigail.” He tried not to cry, but he couldn’t stop the sadness from twisting his face. “I remembered Beverly.” Tears welled up in his eyes. “And everyone he hurt.”
“I hate myself,” he whispered, unable to keep his voice from cracking.
Jack put his fatherly hand on Will's shoulder and squeezed. "I'm not letting him go this time. I'm not missing that dinner this time."
Even without looking up, Will could tell Jack's determined expression was there.
☆ (15 days later) ☆
He had thought that when he went to the field he would feel all alone again, but that was not the case. He had become accustomed to working with Edwin and Miriam. Of course, Edwin could sometimes push the limits of his tolerance.
They shared the same room. Although the times they were together were very few (because usually one of them was sleeping while the other was working downstairs), when they were, they drove his crazy with their inappropriate conversations.
When he saw Will wearing one of the sweatshirts he bought, he immediately found his own sweatshirt of the same model but in a different color, put it on, and made fun of himself by saying, "We make a good team, huh?"
No matter how much Edwin tested his patience, he couldn't ignore the fact that the place was his only source of entertainment. At least it gave him something to do during the otherwise monotonous days.
But he spent most of his time with Miriam. He was beginning to agree with Jack. He and Miriam were very much alike. Not only did they share similar experiences, but their interests were also similar. That was why he was the person he got along best with.
He had only been to interview witnesses twice. He usually stayed at home with Jack or watched them from a distance because of the risk of being recognized.
They had yet to find the key information that would be useful to them. Their hopes were diminishing with each passing day. The system they had was not sufficient because they were in a different country. It would have been much easier if they could interact with the Italian security forces, but they did not trust the Italian police. They knew that more than half of them were Simon's men.
The last 15 days were just routine. Every day was the same as the previous day.
The last time he had seen Hannibal was at the bar. If there were times when he was watching him, Will had no idea. Sometimes he would look out the window to the street in hopes of seeing him, but he was not there.
Their communication was limited to occasional text messages, which Jack would read or Will would say to him. They never talked about anything private.
When Will gave details about the Simons, Hannibal would either ask something related to the subject or simply say 'I understand' and end the conversation. Or he wouldn't answer at all. At first, he thought he was giving these answers because he wasn't satisfied with the information he received. But when he saw that he gave the same flat answers even when they talked about Abigail, he began to think there might be something else behind it. Because Hannibal didn't give such short answers.
He couldn't still be acting crossly about the same thing. If he was watching the house, he was sure there wouldn't be a moment when he would be uncomfortable.
He couldn't possibly know what Jack knew. They barely even talked about it. If he did, he would have made a move long ago.
-
“What is your connection with this incident? ” Miriam asked.
“She was my best friend’s wife.” He blew out his cigarette. He was in his early 40s, an automotive plant manager. He had co-written an article about the Simons. That’s how they found him.
"Can you tell us in detail what you know?"
"They had their eye on her at a party she was attending. The kind of party that middle-aged people would throw, mostly over food." After taking the last drag of his cigarette, he threw it on the ground and stubbed it out with his shoe.
"Exactly the kind of place one of them would be. They love flashy things. Well, from what I've researched, that's what it is. Anyway, back to the topic. Pia was a woman who always aimed high. She always wanted more. I don't know what they offered her or what it was about. At first I thought they were gambling. Figuratively, gambling, but it wasn't a game. We never learned what the reward was. She had broken away from her family and started going where money led her. She was always attending parties or receptions.
"After a while, he started using drugs. People easily go bankrupt at work, they immediately find something to disgrace and disgrace. His addiction progressed. He did not accept help from outside. He suddenly became withdrawn.
"My friend Eric, her husband, was very much in love with her. But now these things were starting to tire her out. His mysterious behavior, money from unknown sources, drugs... She finally filed for divorce because drugs were the end of their relationship.
"The last time I saw Pia she was skin and bones, unable to get out of bed. Eric had sent me home to get something he had forgotten to take. He said he couldn't stand seeing her like that. It was heartbreaking. We heard about her death a few days later."
Edwin raised his hand and asked, "Wait a minute, wasn't Pia killed?"
"No, she committed suicide. She was found in the bathtub. Eric blamed himself a lot. For leaving her alone. He said he wouldn't let this go, and he researched for years. 'What made Pia do this?' He put aside all his work to find out. When he asked me for help, I said I would be happy to do it. We are very close friends and I loved Pia too. So, just like you, we went door to door. When we were hopeless, we met someone who was a cleaner at one of the Simons' places. She had retired a few years ago. But if you saw her, you would think she had retired as the owner of a holding company. The latest model cars, fancy clothes... It was clear that cleaning wasn't her only job. I think they had fallen out and she had managed to get away from them. Even though she was making fun of us, she gave us useful information. While she was saying these things, she didn't forget to say you're going to get yourself killed at the end of every sentence.
"He talked about the places he could go to. But you can't just walk into those places. It's surrounded by guards, the guests are specially selected, from the waiter to the cleaner. It takes years of planning to get into that place. And you never know when or where he'll be. Eric tried to sneak in there without thinking, disguised himself as a waiter, but he was caught. The plan failed before it could even begin."
"What happened to Eric?"
"They killed him." He said it so normally that it surprised Edwin and Miriam. "It wasn't a spectacular death. A bullet in the chest... Then a body was thrown into the lake at random. Easy and ordinary."
"Can you give us the names of the places where it can be found?
"Even if I told you, you wouldn't be able to get in. In fact, according to what he said, you can't even be around the venue that day. That's no different than deliberately saying "I wish you had." He took another cigarette out of his pack and lit it. "You never know where you'll find it. It could be at any of the places; you might see a birthday party, or a funeral. But there is one place. They hold something like a memorial service there on the 27th of every month. I don't know who or for what. The reason we call it a memorial service is because there's no entertainment or anything inside. It's like someone talking and the others listening. We've been following this for almost 5 months, but we couldn't figure it out. Everyone dresses to certain standards, and the same people usually attend. However, getting here is much harder than the others. They don't even let anyone into the street where the venue is. I mean, it's really impossible to get in there that day."
☆
“Maybe it’s the day when all the Simons gather?” Edwin muttered as he poured his coffee. “Some kind of cult ceremony.”
“Could they take that risk?” Miriam asked, turning to Will.
"I don't think the leaders are traveling together. They might not even like each other. There is only one person in charge of this area, the Simon Diana met. The other people we will meet who go by the name of Simon must be his bodyguards or assistants." He paused. He was scratching his beard, thinking. He was leaning his shoulder against the wall next to the window.
“What do you suggest?” Jack listened with interest.
Focusing back on the subject, he turned to Jack. "I don't think it's impossible to get in there. Since it's focused on protecting one person, there will be fewer of them than we thought."
Edwin asked curiously, "What do you mean? Can four of us defeat them?"
“No. We need a team of at least 20 people,” Will said as if he were talking about something simple.
Instantly Edwin's eyes widened and he crouched in despair.
"I don't think the FBI is going to send us backup," Miriam said.
“Considering that every law enforcement agency here has been bought off, that seems impossible.” Jack let out a shaky breath.
Edwin stood up eagerly. “Unless we buy our own team.”
Jack muttered angrily, without looking at Edwin. "We don't have the budget for that. They're barely paying for our current expenses."
Edwin, smiling, sat across from Jack and leaned forward, placing his hands on the table.
"I know someone who can sponsor us."
-
"No collaboration with Hannibal Lecter!"
"That doesn't mean collaborating with Hannibal Lecter?" Edwin had been insisting for half an hour. "We're just going to ask for some money."
“A little?” Jack raised his eyebrows.
"So yes," Edwin scratched his hair. "Even if we all put in three years' salary, we probably wouldn't be able to make up that much money, but he wouldn't even touch Dr. Lecter..."
"Let's say Will took the money from him. Won't Dr. Lecter ask, 'How are you going to explain this money?'" Miriam said, stepping in. "Remember, Will has been talking to Hannibal behind our backs."
"Why don't we let him decide," Edwin said, gesturing to Will, who was leaning against the window with his arms crossed over his chest. "He knows him better than we do. He'll find a way."
Will hadn't commented yet. He was listening to their conversation. But his mind was focused on something else entirely. If their lead was correct, that was it. Once he told Hannibal, they could go home and move on together from there. "Miriam, she's right. That would be suspicious." He blinked, staring out the window for a moment.
Jack breathed a sigh of relief, knowing Will wouldn't accept this.
"But I can ask him about that." He turned his eyes back to the others in the room. "Let him think for me."
☆
Will: Maybe if we bought a team we'd have a chance.
Hannibal: Yeah, maybe.
5 minutes passed. When he realized that he wasn't going to write anything different, that is, when he realized that the conversation actually ended here, his fingers moved on the keyboard again.
Will: We may need you for that. Financially.
Will: Jack doesn't think the FBI will help with this.
There was no response for a while. After 7 minutes, the message "writing" appeared.
Hannibal: You can withdraw as much as necessary from the account I will give you.
He sent the account information, opened under a name he had never heard of. Presumably, all of his savings were kept in safes under separate names. Just like he did for his properties.
Will: One more thing.
Will: How did I get this money?
Hannibal: You say that this account belongs to you. Tell them that it's an account I created for you and that I don't have access to it.
Will: Thank you.
He waited for an answer for a while. But it didn't come. Again.
There was something unexpected. He had thought Hannibal would say, 'we don't need them anymore' and call him back. He didn't want to hear it, but he had waited. He was so sure of what he was going to say that he had already prepared his defense.
But there was none. The conversation was over again.
He looked at the calendar on his phone. Today was the 21st. There were 6 days in between. 6 days were enough to organize this plan. He was already excited about this. He wanted to close the Simons case and take Sara away from them.
Then...
He dreamed of being in France with Abigail. Picking up where they left off.
Will: It's writing...
He wanted to ask, "Why didn't you ask?" or "Why didn't you tell me to come?" with the need to press him, but he shouldn't delve further into the subject.
Will glanced briefly at Edwin, who was lying face down, sleeping with his headphones on. He climbed onto the windowsill in front of his bed and sat down.
He stared at the empty line in the messages for minutes. There was an uneasiness inside him that he couldn't understand. Something was slipping away from his hands, and while he was trying to hold on to them, he felt like he was forcing some of them to go away. While trying to protect the most precious, he was sacrificing the others.
His eyes began to fill with tears. He was looking at the screen with misty eyes. His fingers moved on the keyboard.
Will: I miss you.
He immediately deleted the message he had sent from her phone. At the same time, he reflexively glanced at both the door and Edwin.
It had been almost 10 minutes and he hadn't received any response. For a moment, he had even thought the message hadn't been sent at all. It had happened so quickly that he was starting to question its authenticity.
Frustrated, he put his phone back in his pocket and folded his arms across his chest, leaning his head against the wall and closing his eyes.
A few minutes later, he took his phone out of his pocket when it vibrated.
Hannibal: Almost there.
He frowned at the message. It struck Will as frightening. It was predictable that they would soon reach their eventual end, but this seemed more like a message of something he knew the time for.
☆ February 27 ☆
The paid assassins were waiting for a signal. Some of them were inside the shuttles they had arrived in. The marksmen had been lurking in the buildings overlooking the place for hours.
Will and Jack were in the car a block away from the building, biding their time.
"There is something wrong."
“What is it?” Jack turned his gaze to Will.
"There is no one here."
Jack looked down at the building in the distance. He was right. The witness Edwin had spoken to might have exaggerated his story a bit, but there should have been at least two security guards outside.
He called over the radio to Miriam and Edwin, who were at the other end of the street. "Do you see anything?"
“No, there was no movement,” Edwin replied.
"This isn't good, Jack." He opened the car door and moved to get out.
"What are you doing? You're stuck in-" Before Jack could finish his sentence, Will was already outside.
He walked towards the front of the car with his hands in his coat pockets. After adjusting his glasses, he squinted his eyes and looked carefully at the dark street.
He heard the car door close behind him. "They knew we were coming here," Jack said as he came up to him.
"How is this possible?"
"I don't know. Only one way to find out." As Will started to walk forward, Jack grabbed his arm roughly and stopped him.
"Wait. Let the team check first."
The assassins in the shuttle vehicles waiting at two separate points silently ran towards the building as soon as they received the voice command.
Will and Jack watched from the windshield of the car. The place was right in the middle of the street. The street was poorly lit, so they seemed to be swallowed by darkness as they approached the middle point.
They were focused on the dark spot with the tension of a clash, explosion or shouting coming. Suddenly, with the crackling sound of the radio, their gazes turned to the radio at the same time.
"Team leader speaking."
Jack picked up the radio. "We're listening."
"In, clear."
Will clenched his jaw in frustration and sank into his chair.
The hissing sounds continued for a while, along with the commotion in the background. Jack and Will snapped to attention at the same time and looked at each other.
"There-" The crackling sound interrupted the conversation again. "There's a woman. He's dying."
Will didn't know when he had entered the darkness or the building. He didn't remember when he got out of the car. All he could hear were the footsteps running behind him. But he couldn't focus on anything.
With the team's guidance, he passed the rooms and reached there. It was an empty warehouse. In the middle of it, a woman was lying on a stretcher, hooked up to machines. Her hair was hanging down below the stretcher. Her face could not be seen from this angle.
It was as if the pain had been taken into consideration until he reached it. It was a never-ending 50 meters. A 50 meters long enough to create thousands of different faces, thousands of different scenarios in his mind.
His hair was stuck to his forehead with sweat. The pounding of his heart was drowning out his ears. He was making so much noise that he couldn't hear the sounds coming from outside.
He was feeling dizzy.
When he held on to the iron of the stretcher he nearly fell to the ground.
Abigail?
No no.
No.
Will wiped the tears from his eyes that were blurring his vision.
Sara.
It was Sara.
Her face was very white. Her lips were blue. She was shaking as if she were having a seizure. If she hadn't moved, one would have thought she was dead.
The sight she saw tore his heart to pieces. In horror, he put his hand on Sara's face. Her face was cold as ice. She was dying...
Her entire body was covered in surgical drapes. It was obvious that whoever did this had not done it with the intent to kill her. It was obvious that there was some effort to keep hers alive. The serum she was given had long since run out. When he looked at the screen, he saw that his heart rate was very low.
As the strong smell of blood began to burn his nose, he found himself in a different moment.
Abigail lay on the floor. He stood next to her, not knowing what to do, as blood seeped from the gash in her neck. His hands were trembling and he couldn't stop the blood. He was having a panic attack.
He was useless, except to watch her die.
Until Hannibal came to him and took control of the situation... Only then did he realize the reality of the situation. This wasn't a game. It was all real.
The moment Jack put his hand on his shoulders, the images of the past disappeared. He was thrown backwards.
Until that moment, he hadn't realized that he couldn't perceive the sounds outside. There were so many sounds. Everything seemed to be making noise. The noise of everything suddenly assaulted his brain, sending a sharp pain through his head.
Only when he stepped back did he realize that he was the one causing Sara's seizure.
She was shaking her head, crying and begging, 'stay away from me.'
"Get away from me!" His voice wasn't loud, but it was a screech.
Will's whole body was shaking, and he still didn't know what to do. He didn't even know what to think. He didn't understand what was happening.
He saw Edwin and Miriam walking past him, talking to each other. As the team quickly dispersed, Miriam was talking on the phone.
Jack and Edwin slowly lifted the covers. This made Sara cry even harder. Miriam quickly grabbed her shoulders and tried to calm her down. Will didn't know what they saw since he was standing a few feet away, but he knew from the look in their eyes that it wasn't good. There was an unexpected look in their eyes, and there was pity. When he saw them looking at him with furtive glances, he feared that it was something that concerned him, but he took a step forward.
Edwin suddenly stepped in front of him and grabbed his shoulders, trying to push him away, while he was saying something he couldn't understand because he heard it muffled.
Will pushed Edwin away from his grasp. When he reached the stretcher with a few steps, he understood the reason for everyone's painful looks.
Sara’s hands were tied to the gurney’s handles. There were visible bruises on her arms. There were stitches to close a two-inch diagonal gash just above her left breast. They were expertly done by a doctor, but they were clearly done in a hurry.
But that wasn't the real deal. The real deal was the stitches that had been placed on the intact skin of his stomach. It had been used like a literal blackboard. They had been placed with more care than the stitches that had been used to stitch together the open wound on his chest. They had been written tightly and precisely so that they would fit in the middle of his stomach.
One word and a question mark at the end.
Is it enough? (Enough?)
He didn't understand what it meant, but he could understand why it was associated with him. He knew, as did everyone else, that it was a gift card sent to him.
But what? Is what enough?
Sara's cries of pain grew louder as Will approached her again. Miriam was still trying to hold Sara's head steady. Jack and Edwin were talking to Will, and the howling screams were growing louder.
Edwin grabbed Will with all his strength and pulled him back while Jack pulled down the green surgical drape to see Sara's entire body.
Everyone was stunned by what they saw.
Everything had become even more blurry at that moment. Will swallowed hard and winced. The tears he couldn't stop were streaming down his cheeks and dripping down his chin. He wanted to step forward, but he felt like he was stepping on nothingness, as if he were taking his last step on the edge of a cliff. As he lost his balance, Edwin caught him and he could barely stand.
No one had expected there to be more, but there was much more. Miriam, as well as Will, was impressed by what she saw, and she turned her face away with silent sighs.
The sharp metallic smell of blood was coming through more clearly, because now they knew its source.
His left knee down had been separated from his body. The limb that had been cut off was no longer there. Only the area where his knee had been cut was tightly tied with a white bandage. But it wasn't enough to stop the bleeding. Blood covered the surface of the stretcher and was about to drip onto the floor.
"If he loses any more blood, he'll die!" Edwin whispered in horror so Sara couldn't hear.
Jack looked at Sara's face, who was now beginning to rave. He took the bandage from the table next to the stretcher and applied the tourniquet once more, tying it tightly.
"The ambulance and the police will be here in a minute. We can't wait any longer." When he noticed Will approaching Sara, he looked up at Will.
"Will, we have to go."
He ignored Jack. He glanced at his body, exhausted from the seizure. His eyes were almost closed, but he continued to babble.
Will whispered, "Who did this to you?" Even though he knew the answer to his question very well, he wanted to fuel the anger inside him even more. His tone was as sharp as a knife. And he was no longer crying.
Sara grimaced. She had difficulty expressing it. Even remembering his name made her feel like she was reliving the moments over and over again. She let out a tearful grunt. Her tongue could not turn, she seemed to be choking. A whisper was heard.
It was so quiet that no one could understand what he said. His lips barely moved. He swallowed and then parted his lips again to finish what he said.
Will put his ear close to Sara's lips and waited, hoping to at least hear more.
"Lecter."
When he heard his name, he clenched his teeth so hard he was sure he could hear it from outside. He slowly raised his eyes and looked toward the far end of the warehouse. He saw it. Its horns were as sharp as knives and gleamed as if they were made of metal. Each one was decorated with the blood of its victims as it tore them apart. It dripped onto the ground, leaving red stains. When his eyes shifted to his face, Will’s cold gaze had been replaced by a savage look that had set its sights on its prey.
When one corner of Hannibal's mouth quirked up, he straightened his back in defiance. In contrast to his icy stare, Will's mouth was also quirked up slightly (not visible unless you looked closely).
"I guess I should have listened to you," he said in a flat, determined voice, turning to Jack in a second. "I should have closed the Hannibal Lecter case first."
-
"Will?"
When he heard Jack's voice, he was pulled from his thoughts and turned his head away from the window he was leaning against and looked at Jack.
“Yes?” he asked in a calm and normal voice.
"Are you ok?"
Will took a deep breath and looked up at the hospital lights before him. He smiled, though he couldn't stop his lips from trembling. "Yeah, I guess so."
Edwin and Miriam entered the hospital to find out Sara's condition. In order not to attract attention, Miriam went to the doctor complaining of dizziness and was given a drip. In the meantime, Edwin was able to control the intensive care door through which the police entered and exited.
“It wasn’t your fault, Will.” Will smiled again, bitterly, and turned back to the hospital entrance to keep the tears from welling up in his eyes. He put his elbows on the steering wheel and rested his chin on his arms. “No, it really wasn’t your fault. I don’t understand why he did it?”
"He must have found out that I betrayed him. But I have no idea how he found out." He took deep breaths to keep from crying. He didn't know if it was Sara, Hannibal, or his hatred for himself. He was tormented by the need to break things.
"How did he find her? How could he have organized this plan?"
"I don't know!" he hissed, chewing his lip and not wanting to hear more. His voice still cracked. "I don't want to talk about this right now." He straightened up from the steering wheel and tried to take deep breaths.
Jack nodded in understanding before continuing to watch the hospital entrance. When he heard the door open, he turned to Will. “Where are you going?”
"I feel nauseous, I'm going to get some fresh air."
"Do you want me to come?"
Will shrugged and got out of the car, knowing that he would secretly follow him even if he said not to come.
Will walked ahead while Jack followed a few steps behind, trying not to disturb him. If he hadn't seen his shadow, he might have thought he wasn't even here.
He had his hands in his pockets; the fresh air felt good. The urge to vomit had subsided. He headed toward the back of the hospital, toward the woods. He didn't want to remember, but the memories of finding Sara flashed before his eyes. Lecter.
He still couldn't understand. He couldn't figure out how he did it. He needed to see the scene again before he could comment on anything. He hadn't had the chance to examine it at the moment.
Is it enough?
He had tried to keep Sara alive, but he had taken a part of her. If he had done it because he had realized he had betrayed him, he could not understand why he had not killed her? This was not the kind of action the old Dr. Lecter would have taken. He would have either killed her and decorated her, or if he wanted to give her back, he would have handed her over like he had with Miriam Lass. But Sara had been beaten, stabbed, and her leg cut off. They had been more like torture than blows of resistance. And this was not like Hannibal's methods. Was it enough?
Is that enough?
"Will!"
Hearing his voice, he turned to Jack.
"The Miriams are out of the hospital and waiting for us."
-
"We heard the nurse talking to the police. His condition was stable. He is out of danger. It can be said that first aid interventions saved his life."
Will sighed in relief, then frowned when he heard Edwin say, “but.”
"There is one more thing."
"Nedir?"
"To Sara-" He pressed his lips together and scratched his beard. What he had difficulty saying made them even more curious.
Forcing her face to remain still, Miriam took up the subject and kept her voice steady despite the tears streaming down her cheeks. “Sara was raped.”
"What?" Jack's surprised voice was the equivalent of Will's inner voice.
Will swallowed hard, trying to calm the boiling feeling in his stomach. None of them were looking at Will, but that was just as well because they were staring at him. They were trying to pretend they hadn’t witnessed his shaking.
"He couldn't have done it," he said firmly.
He had deliberately drawn attention to himself. Jack waited for what he had to say next, but the others looked at him with pity, more like, "Don't kid yourself."
"There were traces of sperm found in her vagina. That means it wasn't very long ago. It's as fresh as her wounds," Edwin whispered.
Will was about to say something when Jack snapped. "I agree with Will. Hannibal Lecter has never had a single case of suspected sexual assault before."
"DNA testing will be done. It will be determined who did it within 24 hours," Edwin said calmly.
The high-end police vehicle passing in front of the cafe distracted everyone's attention because dozens of journalists were walking together in front of it.
"After Diana, this is going to be a big media hit," Miriam said.
"Let's let it go. Better if it makes a splash so big the Simons can't hide it," Jack said sharply.
-
They had settled in a hotel, they had not yet decided what to do with the shock of the events. Jack told Will to rest a little and then they would talk about the subject in more detail. Now everyone had retired to their rooms.
This was bad, because he was left alone with himself.
Will couldn't understand how they had suddenly jumped back to when he had to run from Hannibal. It had all happened so fast. He couldn't believe that Hannibal had challenged him. He had never imagined that they would end up like this. Now he was truly on the verge of anger. He wasn't sure who he was up against. Himself or Hannibal.
Sara... She was a young girl of 19 years old. She didn't deserve any of this. If her mother had torn their lives apart; with Will and Hannibal's involvement, they had shattered those pieces beyond repair. They had ruined everything.
This is not a game.
No, it wasn't. This was a girl's life decorated with innocent dreams... back then.
He no longer had the strength to take it. He wanted to text Hannibal and ask, "Did you do this? Why did you do it?" He wanted to say, "Did you realize you were taking this to a point of no return?"
'That's what he is, Will. You know him. That's what he was like when you loved him, and that's what he was like when you hated him.'
"But I'm not that kind of person," he whispered to himself.
He had thrown himself onto the bed and had been lying like this for hours. His legs were hanging off the bed and touching the floor, and the rest of his body was buried in the bed. His hand was on his heart. He could feel the speed and noise of his pulse.
'If you had just let it be, you wouldn't have suffered so much. No one would have suffered so much.'
'If I had left Italy behind. We would have continued where we left off in France. We could have continued without involving anyone so much in our lives. If I had silenced that voice in my head...'
While his face was wrinkled with sadness, the tears flowing from his eyes quickly fell onto the bed. He could feel the crisis approaching his body. While his stomach was tightening, his sobs were starting to block his throat. He tried to stop it by swallowing, but it was impossible. He could not stop the reaction his body was giving to the emotions he was experiencing because he felt it very intensely. There was a weight on his heart as if someone was stepping on it with their foot. Realizing that he could not hold himself back, he gave up resisting and started to cry. He covered his mouth with his hands so that his sighs would not be heard. He tried to wipe the tears flowing continuously from his eyes with the other.
The last time he had experienced such a heavy emotional release had been in the cabin, when he had hidden his face in Hannibal's neck. But now he was not with his.
'It's my fault.'
"It's not your fault." His heart began to pound violently at the sound of his thick, accented voice. He removed his hands from his face and turned his head to the side.
He was looking at Will, smiling, but there was sadness in his eyes.
Will studied his face. The expression he had feared was gone. In fact, it was much milder. "Are you as angry with me as I am with you?
As she always did, he put his hand under his ear and turned his body sideways towards Will, continuing to reach out.
"No."
“Why?” His voice sounded pained.
"Because I'm trying to understand. Why you did it."
“But you were angry.”
Hannibal looked away and swallowed. "I was angry at you because you left me nothing to hold on to."
As if exhaling, he immediately asked behind him, "Didn't I leave it?"
"You did it again. You really surprised me this time. You really proved this time that I could never have guessed you."
“You too.” His lips tightened as the scenes from last night came back to him. “What you did to her—What did you do to her, Hannibal?” he asked, his voice completely torn.
Smiling, Hannibal slowly reached his hand up to Will's face. Without touching it, he ran it from his cheekbone to his jaw. Will closed his eyes as if he could feel the warmth of his hand. "You'll see. Just look."
Even though he wished that he could give an answer and end this torture, he knew that only he could give that answer.
"I should have listened to you," he said in a whisper that was barely audible from outside.
Hannibal brought their faces closer, almost nose to nose. "You listened to me, Will. You did not come here by yourself."
"You never wanted it. You were putting up with it for me."
"I wanted to provoke the Simons too."
"But not my way." He was no longer crying, but he still sighed occasionally as he spoke.
"Maybe. But I've always respected your methods."
"You shouldn't have heard." He shook his head and looked back up at the ceiling. In a sharp voice, he continued, "Look at the state of us. I want to kill you right now."
"Me or yourself?"
Will gritted his teeth. “Both of us.”
☆
“Hannibal Lecter!” he spelled it out like a news headline. “The aforementioned Chesapeake Ripper.”
Mason Verger leaned over to the man, who was on his knees, his arms stretched out behind his sides, and was also tied around his neck, his face down, and looked at him pitifully. "Look at you. You're more pitiful than the piglets." He glanced at the other pigs in the cages to the side.
Hannibal lifted his face as high as he could and studied Mason Verger's face with mockery. "I admire your confidence, Mason." He smiled. "It's very selfless of you not to withdraw when you're being subjected to contempt."
Mason laughed out loud. "Dr. Lecter, Lecter... Lecter." He placed it on Hannibal's head and began petting it like a puppy. "It gives me great pleasure to entertain you. You know I've always been very hospitable."
He glanced at Hannibal tied up like a sacrificial lamb and winced. "Well, uh. It may not look like much right now." He stepped back, checking his wheelchair. He looked at the sight before him from afar. "Because in a moment, you'll be a Verger instead of a guest."
“Children!” he called out as he turned his head toward the door.
Two men entered, one of them holding a long, rusty iron. The tip of the iron he was holding was circular, about 5 cm in diameter.
Hannibal licked his lips, amusement evident on his face. The mocking look in his eyes was unsettling, but Mason was enjoying it more, as he said.
While his men were heating the iron they had brought, Mason moved closer to the door and turned to Hannibal. "I'd like to stay and hold your hand until the pain subsides, but the burning smell keeps me from coming back." He pretended to throw up, then turned again as he headed out the open door. "And boys! First, mess up that pretty face of yours a little." "But!" he called out as the men stopped what they were doing.
"But he can eat. You hear me? If he can't eat, one of you will be his soup." Mason laughed, despite the skin stretching across his face.
His men said, "Yes sir," and then they approached Hannibal. One pulled hard on his hair, forcing his head up, while the other clenched his fist and was about to ram it into his face when Mason called out to him, causing him to pause.
"Wait! First, apply the brand. I want him to feel every second that he belongs to me. If he gets a head injury now, it won't be a big deal." He winced, although it wasn't obvious from the outside, and narrowed his eyes in an attempt to make up for his mistake. "Go ahead."
He turned towards the door and went completely outside. The guards waiting at the door closed the door behind him.
When he got to his room, he opened the tab on his computer that displayed the barn. He was just in time.
The mechanism that bound Hannibal's arms was pulled up and his body was raised off the ground. Cordell was approaching Hannibal Lecter with a red-hot iron. Although all of his muscles tensed when he pressed the red-hot iron into the middle of his back, there was no expression of pain on his face. He simply closed his eyes and lifted his face into the air.
Mason hadn't been amused because he had expected a bigger reaction. He pressed the microphone connected to the room and spoke. "You may begin now."
He held the plate of grapes in his lap and watched with pleasure as he watched the blows thrown at Hannibal's face.
Hearing a knock on the door and seeing Margot rush in, he hurriedly closed the laptop lid.
"Dear Margot, we learned that knocking on someone's door before entering their room meant something, didn't we?"
"This isn't the first time I've caught my big brother watching porn."
Mason chuckled at this and popped a grape into his mouth as he asked, "What was it?"
"In whose honor are these preparations being made?" Margot crossed her arms over her chest and looked around.
"I have a special guest tonight. I haven't seen him for a long time."
"Do I know?"
"I-Imm... these are none of your business, little brother. I specifically asked them to tell you not to be home tonight."
"Yes, I heard. You'll agree, it makes me even more curious."
Mason wheeled his wheelchair in front of Margot and took her hand. “We’re going to have a gentlemanly dinner. I don’t want what you’re about to hear to bother you.” Mason softened his voice, trying to sound affectionate. “You know, you didn’t have a very good time the night I hosted my friends from Germany.”
Thinking back to that evening, Margot realized what he was talking about. The part she hated the most was when they talked about the Verger family's patriarchal system, argued in front of her about how right it was, and tried to manipulate Margot as well.
He freed his hand from his brother's grip and walked towards the door, shaking his head. "The new pigs must be very valuable, there are 4 guards at the door. Interesting."
"Margott... Why don't you pack your things and talk over the details of your sleepover with your friends?"
Margot rolled her eyes as she turned away, slamming the door behind her on her way out.
-
"I marinated the meat you brought nicely and cooked it in the oven with an oven bag for about 40 minutes." After placing a slice of the meat on the serving plate on Hannibal's plate, he poured the vegetables cooked together and the sauce he had prepared on top. "Medium rare meat with broccoli, rosehips and a spicy sauce that I prepared with my special recipe."
"Don't hold back, Cordell. You may step aside." Mason added, picking up his knife and fork. "Our guest hasn't been able to eat anything since he arrived. I don't want him to be deficient in vitamins."
As the servants left the room, Cordell and the guards waited at one side of the room.
Hannibal sat across from Mason, tied to his chair, the burnt skin on his back rubbing against his shirt making him ache inside, but he tried not to show it.
Like Mason, he picked up his fork and knife. He cut a slice of meat from his plate and popped it into his mouth. As he chewed, he turned to Cordell and smiled with disturbing ease.
"Well done, Cordell. I didn't think it would be this successful, to tell you the truth." He turned to Mason and continued. "I'm glad this meat didn't go to waste."
Mason chuckled and continued to eat from his own plate. "He's had all the training he needs. He's working hard to serve me every slice of you, just like this."
Hannibal glanced at Cordell, eyebrows raised. “Then I must be very lucky.”
Laughter rose that was far from sincere.
After a few minutes of silence, the meal was interrupted by Mason's voice: "You won't be lonely when Will Graham joins us soon."
He took a sip of his wine and cleared his throat. "I'm not lonely. Mason, you and your team have been very welcoming."
Mason glanced at the bruises and scabs on Hannibal's face. "We're glad we could make you feel comfortable. But like I said, you're a part of this place now. You can feel right at home—for a while..."
"That's very kind of you, thank you." He continued to eat comfortably.
"You two spent a lot of time in Italy, didn't you? I'm afraid I ruined your honeymoon." He bowed his head and rested his forehead on his hand, pretending to be genuinely embarrassed.
Hannibal wiped his mouth with a napkin and continued his irony. "I'm sorry I couldn't give you the pleasure, but our honeymoon was already ruined."
"Didn't I know... Oh, that sperm donor of yours almost indirectly inherited the Verger estate." Mason laughed nervously. "Isn't that funny? Will Graham's son-" Suddenly serious, he extended his hand toward Hannibal and gestured politely. "I realize I didn't thank you for that, Dr. Lecter."
He responded to Mason with a smile that was far from sincere.
"Even though Margot is still mad at me about this, you've made something really beautiful happen, Dr. Lecter."
"I just pointed out the points you haven't seen yet."
"Yeah, and it literally saved my life."
After taking a long sip of water, he said, "At the time, I was more into Will Graham than you. But the day he chose to save you instead of kill you-" he shook his head disapprovingly, "he really is insufferable."
"It's not easy to predict his moves," Hannibal commented without any emotion.
"Well, it's not exactly smart."
Hannibal answered without hesitation. "He saved us."
"But he couldn't save himself from you. Now he must be cursing you because of the note you left."
Mason leaned his elbows on the table and leaned toward Hannibal. "He must regret not killing you that day," he added in a voice that showed some semblance of sympathy.
End of episode.......♡