FicWad

CHAPTER ONE:
The Fall


To fall is an offer that Hannibal had already accepted, open arms that encircled Will as the last thing he had heard was the mans voice.

'It's beautiful. '

A replay of this song, looped over within the surface of walls in his mind as their plummet from the face of the earth came to be and the wind had dragged them apart all the while they fell, the slickness of blood deeming it impossible to cling to each other. Will had already embraced the idea of death before he had tipped them off of the cliff edge. Looking up to the stars above he opened up his arms as if offering himself to whatever god would have him.
Hannibal had seen it coming, the inevitable in effect of a guiding hand that had led the other to his feet. This was what he had wanted for the both of them, to climb so high merely for the two to crash into the roaring of the blue below. The metaphysical of their lamentation, to be poetic.
Wills' mouth flew open in a gasp, an opening for water to rush into, flooding his lungs; he felt like it was trying to cleanse him from the inside out. Survival instincts took over, his body trying to swim to the surface in an attempt not to die here. The waves hit hard, as hard as it were to not lose grip of Will, though Hannibals' hand had outstretched for his only in resemblance to the creation of Adam in an Michelangelo painting.

The currents kept pushing Will down every time he thought he would break to the surface, Poseidon's hands pulling him to the bottom of the sea floor. There was an agonizing fight to not give in, as Will pushed and Hannibal pulled, the brink of death being the equilibrium; the line in the sand. He tried one last attempt, his hand reaching out, as if trying to grasp at an invisible rope. ‘If I survive, I promise I will be true to myself.’ Will thought to himself as he started to black out, body going limp. He felt like laughing, what a way to go. And with that, he fell into the blackness of Death’s embrace.

Hannibal swam upward, a hand grasping at deep waters with a jaw lowered in means to soak in all the cold air he could manage into his aching lungs. There was no sign of Will, not yet and Hannibal felt the tinge of remorse that did not break onto his gleaming, wet face. The man dove back under the waters surface, paddling deeper into the oceanic blue. Hands clawed the way whilst bubbles evaporated from nostrils, what little Hannibal could see was Will sinking in the ruins and the further that he swam had been the harder to reach him.

Eventually, half way down, Hannibal had grabbed ahold of the younger man who had appeared lifeless but there wasn't a way that he would follow through with losing him just yet. Will swore he could see a light ahead, he shivered from being cold and wet as he padded toward it. He went slowly and cautiously, rubbing at his arms as his shoes made squelching noises. Was heaven actually real? He thought to himself, a look of amusement on his face. And if it was, why was he being let in? He had almost reached it until a roaring noise came from behind him, turning, he opened his mouth to shout out as two hands yanked him back the way he had come.

It took a strength unimaginable to attempt in bringing Will onto the rocks above water, raspy chords producing a shallow breath with each inhale. There was pain worth the suffering, Hannibal refused to let go until the safety of the ground above. Once there, Lecter would perform CPR to resuscitate him. Wills' eyes flew open and he coughed up what felt like half of the sea. The roaring echoed around them, he now knew it had been the sea making all of the rockus. He laid on his side retching and gapsing, his whole body hurt, inside and out and he could taste blood and salt.

The instant Will had coughed up what had nearly killed him, Hannibal only then surrendered to the grace of night that this world had to offer with a warm shoulder. His eyes lifted to the sky, closing them to allow the air to shift through and his own breathing to steady. Will stared at him for a moment, panting heavily. He felt light headed, though that wasn’t a surprise since he had died for all of but a minute and had lost a lot of blood.

“Am I ever going to get rid of you?” He croaked out, but he didn’t mean it, he knew he didn’t mean it. He was dipping in and out of consciousness now, sprawled out on the rock with the man he had just pulled off of a cliff with him.

The smell of blood was the most reassuring, though when their eyes had met, Hannibal could nearly taste the bitter and the unjust phrase of question that Will did not intend.
Atleast Lecter could hope diving from a cliff was not what Will had wanted, whether it was solely on something else entirely or Will wanted it to end as much as Hannibal.
The undeniable suffering.
But waters from below weren't for drinking and dying isn't necessarily the answer for quenching ones distorted craving for death.

He smiled faintly to Will, "Not that easily, I'm afraid. "
Hannibal stands once again to peer down to him, extending an unsteady hand. "If I am going to assist you to your feet, Will, do you promise me that you will not drive the both of us off land again?"
Will looked up at the man, dizzy, head feeling light. He had heard what the other had said and thought for a moment ‘no… I made a promise’ he thought to himself before taking the hand. It was effort to stand, he had no idea how the other man could act like he didn’t have a hole right through him.

Hannibal would pull Will to his feet the best that he could.
“Where are we going?” Will huffed out in his now gritty sounding voice as he clung to Hannibal in an attempt not to fall back into the water. There was no way they could go back to the cliff house, Jack and his team would most probably be on their way by now. They were an intelligent team, even without him. He rested his head against the mans shoulder, it reminded him of the moment before they fell, though this time he wasn’t going to throw them to the sea.
Hannibal saw the blood, laying out as a massive crime scene from over Wills shoulder, the mans chin connected to the top of the others head. Every bit of blood, black in color under the moonlight. Though Hannibal wasn't at all sure on how he had done this himself, standing here as Will depended on his unsturdy frame whilst fingers curled around the mans forearm. "With me …," Hannibal had staggered forward, attempting to drag Will along as the both of their weight would rely on one another.

“We need to go somewhere else.” He said, though he knew the other was probably way ahead of him. Hannibal had been on the run for years after all. “We need to patch you up…” He huffed out again, he was still breathless, though he wasn’t sure why. Tilting his head he looked up at the other man, swaying on his feet. He really wasn’t feel stable, he felt like they would both drop dead from blood loss soon, the sea’s revenge for being denied its sacrifices.

Lecter hobbled forward, Will in arm, the cliff house had been the only other option at this moment and beyond the door would stand clarity despite its unorthodox. But this was their only refuge, if anything; back to which they came.

"You can not quit on me now…," Hannibal breathlessly managed in spinning words of encouragement in his state of weakness. At the rate this had been going, there might not be a way out of the design that Hannibal had created, let alone the F.B.I in whom had dragged the doctor into the horror in which is The Red Dragons'.

Then there was a faint sound of boots, at first , Hannibal had attempted to pass by regardless of what had occurred with his head low he'd guide Will onward in fragments of struggle but if it weren't for the smell of cherry blossom - faint yet apparent, followed by the cocking of a gun then he wouldn't have came to a halt.
A quick hand had reached out to take Hannibal by the arm, "We must go, Hannibal. "
It was Chiyo, her soft spoken heritage dialect spilled out into a hushed tone. There sat a car parked close by, in route of direction needed for a fast escape.
Will had halted when he also heard the familiar voice of Chiyo, he couldn’t say he was particularly pleased to see her, not after she had shot him… And had pushed him off of a train. He glared at her the best he could, but he found it an effort, his body was too tired.
In the far, echoes of voices collided onto eachother like neatly woven fabric, one in whom both of the men could clearly distinguish from the rest. Jack Crawford.
His breath hitched when he heard the commotion in the distance, his hold on Hannibal loosening a little as his thoughts went back to Jack. Hell, he should have been thinking about his wife and kid too… What was wrong with him? He frowned and let go of Hannibal, he stumbled a little but managed to keep himself upright.
Looking down at his wedding ring, memories of times he had shared with Molly and Willy went through his mind. No, they were better off without him, safer. And Jack? Well he would probably arrest Will on the site. He couldn’t deny that he had wanted Hannibal to escape, had wanted the Red Dragon to come after them. He had even subconsciously known what he was doing when he set Chilton up.
Truthfully, there wasn't much time to catch leave. Flashing of police vehicle lights had beamed just over the homes roof. If they were fortunate enough, Chiyo could get them out of the area and to much preferred safety.
Hannibal saw Grahams helpless expression, the glow of his wedding band. The man blinked, what had been for the worst lead them both to this moment. He knew Molly had been alright, even Wills' son but he couldn't suppress the endorsement in the sudden change that brought Will to ponder.
Will looked up at the other two, dropping his hand again reaching out the other hand to cling to the only person that could possibly understand him in this word. “Let’s go..” He said, supporting himself on Hannibal, and Supporting the man in turn as they went to the car.
After the hand returned to him, he'd let the other rely more so on him than the other way around. Hannibal had slipped into the backseat alongside Will and Chiyo started up the engine once the doors were closed.
As the car rolled forward, Lecter also layed his head back while his right hand applied pressure to the bullet wound in his stomach. Heavy, unsteady air wheeled itself from parted lips and he admired Chiyo for the bravery of ensuring safety, even if it might have been for his own - this time, it was for them.
Will all but crawled into the back seat, head falling back and lolling around. He stared up at the car roof, disjointed thoughts buzzing in his head. “Where are we going?” He finally asked, not that he was expecting a decent answer, especially not from Chiyo.
The ceiling within the car appeared closer as Chiyo sped around to the other side of the house. Jacks' voice ricocheted in a bark of instruction for the vehicle to stop, alas, Chiyo had only went faster.
The wheels kicked up dirt and excess debris,, driving a harsh line as the machine skidded off.

Wills question has not gone ignored, Chiyo met their eyes in the rearview mirror. Hannibal could read her eyes inside and out, he himself, could apprehend.
Will only partly paid attention as they sped past the scene, he glanced to his angry ex boss but didn’t particularly register it. He allowed himself to slip in and out of sleep as Chiyo drove them to safety, he was finding it harder and harder to keep his eyes open now, but he didn’t fancy dying.. Or almost dying again.
Unfortunately, the FBI hadn't stopped there, Crawford had got into his own car to find that his right front tire had been blown out by a lodged bullet. "Ah, you've got to be shitting me!"

There was the sound of the door, Alana turned to look in that direction.
"Hannibal …has ran away with his /obsession /, Will Graham. The Red Dragon is…dead thanks to Tattle Crimes 'murder husbands'." Bedelia spoke loud enough from the porch, the woman seemed distraught, carrying herself forward by latching her hand on to flat surfaces in means to walk on the one leg.
Alana's' eyes widened, "Hannibal isn't dead?" she asked, disregarding Bedelias' loss of leg.

"Neither …is Will Graham. " The blonde corrected articulately. Jack pulled himself from the car and peered over the hood. "Half of our crew is dead, Bedelia! "

This earned the man a discerning smile. Alana turned back around to Jack. For now, the three were stranded at a crime scene.

---

Chiyos' car drove into the entrance to Hannibal's' home and parked.
She had opened her door for Hannibal, her rifle still in arm and whilst Hannibal leaned back on to the car, Chiyo then would proceed in opening Wills' in try to help him.
"I am not going to shoot you, that would be kicking a dog when it is dying. " She'd warn before attempting to guide him around to the front of Lecters house.
“I still haven’t paid you back for the last time yet.” He said, giving her a slightly lopsided smile that was neither friendly, nor particularly threatening; if anything, it was unreadable.
Hannibal had fallen against the closed door the instant that they were inside, he was stalling as warm air welcomed him.
Will was grateful when Chiyo helped him upstairs and dropped him, gently, onto a bed. He hissed out in pain, he was finally feeling it more, though his body was still cold and numb. “Help Hannibal first…” He mumbled to her, feeling himself becoming drowsy again. He fought against letting his eyes close, his eyes flickering about as he blinked them a number of time.
Hannibal refused to budge, the door facing pressed firmly onto the mans back had served as a bit of a groundwork. Hazel eyes fleeting to the rounded wall above, completely obliterate to the architecture, at the best, his breathing had gradually drew down.

Before a while passed by, Chiyo had made her way downstairs and Hannibal walked to a sofa not bothered by an escort.
As Chiyo kneeled down before him, her hands worked to remove his shirt after setting aside a suture kit.

Lazily, Hannibal rolled his chin upwards, the scent was all too much. "How is Will…?"

Chiyo had taken the alcohol to swab away at the wound, glancing to him then whilst stitching the tiny incision made by the bullet. Strangely, hadn't been given anesthesia for pain.

"Will is fine. He requested that I help you first. " At her saying this, he sent his lips under the scraping of teeth. Chiyo reached to tilt Hannibals direction to the side, in need of proceeding with his back the same as before.

"Did you give him anesthesia for his pain?" Hannibal had asked quietly, her fingers grazing skin as the torso bandages were applied.
"Are you concerned for him?"
Hannibal merely closed his eyes as he had sensed Chiyo pull away. He thanked her and hoisted himself to the full sitting position.

Apparently she was still awaiting Hannibals reply to merely be given a faint smile instead.

Lecter lifted to his feet gradually and had taken the shirt from around his waist to sit higher upon his shoulders. Walking passed Chiyo who had stood back up herself to notice Hannibal leaving for the stairs with a couple of anesthesia vials and needle.
Will had been out of his head, not taking into consideration that the door had opened,
"Will. How are you feeling? "

Will only regained his consciousness from his mind when Hannibal entered the room entirely, needle in hand. “Oh I’m feeling just great, I just love getting punctured full of holes by mad men.” He answered, a sarcastic tone to his voice, a slight hint of bitterness there too. “Get that away from me, or I’ll push you back in the sea.” He threatened, a frown on his blood covered face, he noted how much it hurt to talk now, though he did just get stabbed in the face.
Hannibal lowered the syringe, a crack of a smile was beckoned by the stern voice of Wills'. Here the damaged man sat, singing with a broken note, intolerably. Yet…

'…I tolerate. '

Hannibal tilted his head with a frown visible in the depths of his eyes but the smile remains.
"I am sorry, Will. We could forget the anesthesia and go with patching your face, if you would like. " The offer was open regardless of how uncouth Will appeared to be. In his mind, there is a palace and here they both are, in a room built of fragility. Memories of black and white with a depending red bleeding through, there is a mirror no longer reflecting the best of the other in their mentality or there never was.
His eyes looked past the Doctor, searching for their ‘saviour’ before going back to Hannibal and looking him over. “You really are a monster… I can’t believe you’re still standing.” There was a hint of amusement there this time, he couldn’t really help but feel admirable, the man had just been shot and yet he had still managed to swim out of an angry ocean and stay on his feet.
There lays not a scale in between, the beast and the wrath of the lamb. In a sense, Hannibal deserved what Will is handing him, the defiance and hurt emotions.
"I am standing here the same as you are sitting there, Will. I could not have left you to the sea neither could I have left the story where it had dropped off. "
Will couldn't help but laugh a little at Hannibals words. Sure he couldn't let him drown, they had connected that day in Jacks office. He huffed and stared at the man, remembering Bedelia's words. "Can't live with him... can't live without him." Will repeated out loud, though he knew Hannibal wouldn't have a clue, but it fit them, their relationship.
Folie a deux.
There was a light wavering in Will Grahams eyes that Lecter feared the man would lose to by letting it fade into pitch black. The ominous Will seemed to have feared most losing himself to, in Becoming.
Downstairs, the sound of the door had closed, signalling Chiyos' keaving. Hannibal set the anesthesia medic supplies on the dresser.
"Where do we go from here... Now that I finally see, now that I've thrown the last three years away?" Will asked, breathing a little heavily from the pain in his cheek due to talking to much.
"Have you not reconsidered that those three years that I had given you were for your own good? To see the glass cup finally pull itself together." He had added gently, his sight resting on the wall.
Hannibal lifted from off of the dresser and turned around sidelong to meet Will directly. There is clarity in what he had said, apparently it had been a quote and Hannibal didn't question it nor probe on the matter further than a a half nod.

"Those years were not wasted and you do see. We give back to them what they want, but most importantly, what is it that you want? Will."
"I'm still deciding what I want and what I need." Will said, looking up at Hannibal, he hadn't taken his eyes off of the man. Yes, he'd had some of the best years of his life with Molly, sweet, lovable, wild Molly. He looked at his wedding band again and let out a half sigh.

"You say you allowed me to have my three years... Is that why you sent Dolarhyde after Molly and Willy?" He pulled his eyes from the ring and back to Hannibal. "Was that you cutting my three years, so that I would come back to you for definite?"
All three of those years hadn't been wasted according to Lecter; Will had for once settled down with a family outside of the family of strays he had created for himself.
Will was given Molly, Willy and even had shared the pleasure of destroying the Red Dragon.
If anything, he wanted Will to accomplish, to taste the life in which the man secretly yearned and though he had tried for Will to see. Will had let Hannibals letter burn, and perhaps the poem go to waste.
Here, facing one another and surviving the cliff hanger.
Hannibals' mind wandered as Will stared blankly in his own thoughts about his family.
Will had needed to stop thinking about this, it only angered him. He wanted to trust Hannibal, but he would always have something stopping him. "Just drug me and get it over with. I think my face is falling off." His lips twitched a little in an almost smile, his own last comment amusing him. He couldn't help but remember a certain man from their past, who had a certain fucked up face.
Hannibal reached for the syringe and once again crossed over to the other, standing about a foot away and attempted to take Wills arm, "I know you do not want to trust me but now would be the best time. "
He smirked, watching Wills partial smile. Yes, the reminder of Verger came to mind and his pig fetish. Ironic in its own way.
It didn’t take long for the Anesthesia to start numbing his body, especially the areas of pain. His mind felt clouded, and he had more of a fight now, to keep his eyes open. Will didn’t look at Hannibal the whole time, he just looked at the older mans shoulder.
Without hesitation, Hannibal inserted the needle into his arm, pushing down on the lever slowly to extract the medicine and allowed Wills arm back, "Allow that time. Lay back, relax. "
Leaving his side to the dresser, Hannibal went in to the third drawer to retrieve another suture kit. Lifting the lid, crossing back to Will he had made sure that the man was rested and had taken the alcohol swab provided, tearing the packet open he'd use the cloth to clean around the area.

All the while, switching, he watched Wills face for any discomfort as Hannibals other hand lifted the needle to thread the stitches through the thick flesh parted at a gap.
Will hissed lightly as careful fingers pried the skin together for the stitch to be successful. After all was complete and the bandage was strategically placed, Hannibal would raise to dispose of the equipment and trash.
He sighed out, feeling sleepier as he watched the other clean up. He tensed up however, when Hannibal stopped and spoke to him. He opened his mouth to reply, but thought better of it.
Pausing in the doorway before heading out, Hannibal rested his eyes back to Will as he had done so before.

'Good bye, Hannibal. '

"It was not cutting your life, Will. This was my inability to prove what it is like to let go and to take the fall. "
Will frowned at his retreating back ,

‘I’ve taken the fall and I’m finally giving you what you want, Hannibal…’

He thought to himself, but he kept quiet, instead he closed his eyes. Hannibal opened the door to leave finally and Will leaned back, heneeded to sleep, regain any lost energy… God knows that the blood loss was a major factor in why he was feeling so tired. It didn’t take long for him to slip into a deep sleep, which was a world record for Will, it usually took him hours to embrace sleep.



CHAPTER TWO:
Folie a Deux

About two hours later, there were solid guesses of to where the two men were. Jack Crawford held his motives in the palm of his hand and Alana stood firmly with him on them as Margot pulled up in her vehicle.
About ten minutes after, the two were leaving the scene.

Bedelia had made her way inside five minutes prior; supporting her weight onto the dining table near the China glass tray where her severed leg sat on a bed of crisps, roasted to serve and wrapped in ti leaves. There was a familiar scent clouding the woman's mind as weary eyes looked towards the cracked screen of a video camera laying across from her on the ground.

Her hand ran along the length of her medically bandaged stub, raising the weight of her skirt as a thumb nervously touched a gleam of metal. The fork.

"I had my suspicions that you would come back …Hannibal. " Bedelia greeted in a tired way of sorts. No answer followed.

Hannibal had stood nearby behind her, he cautiously took a step forward to approach the table. "I am surprised that for someone like yourself had taken a leap of sacrifice. Tell me, what really convinced you to stay around. Did you choose to for the fear of consequence? "

She hobbled sidelong, the secrecy of her plan guarded by the shadows beneath the table.

Leaning slightly over the surface, Hannibal inhaled the auroma of a decent cooked meal whilst the fingers of his left hand had slid across to the opposite side of the dish, grazing the hilt of a knife.

The man reeled himself upward to meet the woman face to face. "I had chosen to …simply because I was left with no other option. I …preferred that the both of us could …settle the odds with the price deal of a clean cut."

Lecter felt pleased with her plan, despite that it was poorly thought out. "How do you taste?" He asked, regarding the bite sized chunk removed mid center.
"Over cooked."

"Hm, " Hannibal tilted his chin in acknowledgment of the double meaning, he then knew all too well that her plan did not include having him for dinner.

In one quick gesture, Bedelia had risen her hand from under the table, successfully lunging the spikes from the fork into his chest cavity and managed to fall in the process with her back colliding on to the cherry wood surface beside her.

Hannibal brought the blade slicing diagonally across her throat, then removed the cutlery from his chest. Blood cascaded in a fine spray bathing his face and the meal that the back of her head tipped over against. The gradual rise of satisfaction clearly visible under layers of blood painted on his features, lips tugged into his trademark smile.


. .. .. ... .

A mixture of the sacrifice was seasoned by prideful hands, rolling out firm meat along a cutting board. Fingers bend and mold, massaging the deepest of red and pulling unneeded lard from smooth corners.

Vegetables, wet from crystal water, galloped from out of an ivory bowl and into the fryer. Under the skillets surface, flames danced upward into a spiral of smoke as a stern hand shook its handle to separate the garnished broccoli and herbs.

Sauce was next, a sweet cranberry Thai liquid specifically made for the delicacy in which Hannibal had already begun cooking.
Moments later, a pan of meat was placed in the large oven.

He sensed that Will would possibly smell it from where he lay.
Back at the house where the Red Dragon was slain, Bedelia sat on top of the table as a head served on top of her leg whereas the other one Lecter had taken. Two arms stood on both chairs in a zombie gesture, crooked fingers pointing out with forks as if insanely hungry to take a bite of her. In Bedelias seat had sat her torso, limbless.


Jack was focused on getting to Hannibals home and even expressed to Margot and Alana both that he felt this to be necessary but the advice in response to his plead were that they get back to safety in preparation for what may come.


Will stirred from the sleep he had slipped into after Hannibal had stitched him up. He groaned out as he moved, his whole body hurt, from head to toe. “You’re getting old, Graham.” He told himself as he blinked lazily, looking around the room. His eyes started to flutter close again, but what he smelt made them open again.

‘He’s seriously cooking?’ Will thought to himself, sighing out, though he was a touch amused. He decided that moving around would help his aching bones. Getting up he looked down at himself, he was topless still but his bloodied pants still remained. Will grimaced and removed them, he found a bathrobe in a cupboard and put that on instead. He would bathe after seeing Hannibal.
Leaving the room, he went down the stairs, slow and steady as to not fall down them and hurt himself more. He looked around as he went, he wondered just how many houses Hannibal actually owned.

When he had reached the bottom he stood for a moment, holding his side. He just knew he would be coming out in bruises soon. “Hannibal?” He called, though not that loudly, he didn’t want to risk opening his mouth too wide and ripping the stitches out.
The soft playing of a classical score could be heard leading from the dining room.
He started to walk again, down a hall that he guessed lead to the kitchen. When he got to the door, he pushed it open and stood there for a moment. The other man looked like he was in his element. Cooking and listening to his typical classical tunes. Will guessed the man had missed this the past three years.

Leaning his head against the door frame, he watched the man for a bit. He knew his presence had been noted, if he recalled, the man could smell him a mile off. ‘Just like a dog’ Will thought to himself, a small smile tilting his lips. He groaned out however, when the smile pulled at his cheek. “Fuck that hurts…” He swore. His presence was definitely noted now.

Hannibal smirked, raising his chin as his dark eyes fled closed whilst using the kitchen towel to dry his hands. Amidst the strong current of scent spreading in the kitchen, Hannibal smelled one in particular that drove him to slightly turn towards the entrance as his eyes zoned in on Will.
"Good morning, Will. " Lecter addressed with a nod of his head in the others general direction. It might have well been morning, after everything that has occurred in the process of several long hours.
Hannibal walked over to the oven, "You are just in time for breakfast. You look well, do you feel well? " The mans sight had paused on the oven door once applying mits. 'Dinner to be exact yet time has melted by', he thought as he pulled out the rack for the tray of roasted meat and leaned back carefully to close the oven door.
Will didn’t answer the other man straight away, he continued to watch him, unable to think of anything decent to say. It wasn’t until Hannibal took their ‘breakfast’ out of the oven that Will frowned and finally said something. “Who is that?” He asked, making a face as he looked at it.
Hannibal looked over to Will with a weak smile once putting the pan on to the kitchen island. "I'd assume the anesthesia has worn off by now and you are in need of a shower. " Hannibal inquired, glancing the man down casually as he turned swiftly to turn off the oven.
He crossed his arms and leant against the door frame, looking at Hannibal disapprovingly. “You’re free for all of five minutes and you decide your first act of freedom is going to be murder and cannibalism?” He shook his head, he wasn’t even surprised anymore.
Hannibal hadn't ignored Will entirely but had smiled.
He sighed again and decided to answer the mans last question. “Yes it has worn off… I feel like I’ve fought a dragon and fallen to my death from a cliff.” Will glanced at him, a small smile pulling at his lips. He didn’t say anything else and instead took off for the table.
Hannibal had taken the large food dish to the dining room to place mid center before going back into the kitchen for their plates and bowl of steam fried vegetables.
He listened on with what Will had to say but chose to be silent out of respect for decent conversation.
Pulling out a chair for the younger man, he'd then place down the kitchen utensils on either side of him.
“Know what? I don’t even want to know who it is, I’m too hungry to care.” He huffed out, looking around and had chosen to sit. “And a shower…Wait, a bath… That would be great.” He hadn’t dared bathe in the motel bath, it had looked grimey, but he had showered.

"It is Long pig, " Hannibal would state in consideration that Will didn't wish to know whom he had cooked, "Roasted in a fine layer of butter, " taking a sharpened knife, he'd reach across the table to proceed in slicing the meat and with a spatula he'd gather what he had sliced for the others plate.

"Toasted vegetables in a Parmesan and green herb mix, " using the scooping spoon, Hannibal put a half cup of vegetables onto the plate next to meat. With a different spoon, went to gather the red sauce for a condiment bowl. "A cranberry vinagarrete created from minced cranberry and pomegranate in means to bring out the flavor of the meat, if you wish. "
Will listened to the other man as he explained each part of the dish and dished all of the components of the meal onto a plate for him.
His fingers reached near Wills Plate and had taken the Crystal glass sitting neck up to turn over. "To drink, a big amerone. " With this being said, Hannibal plucked the cork from a wine bottle and poured some half way in the glass.
A gentle smile formed upon the mans lips as he passed one last look to Will before fixing his own food as he had his.

Sitting down in a chair, he nods to him generously , "A bath is always an option. However, let us eat and we shall deal with the importancy of other needs after. "
Will picked up the wine first, taking a large gulp from the glass as he looked down at the food. He side glanced and saw as Hannibal started to eat his own food. It wasn’t like he hadn’t eaten this before, it had just been so long; It made his stomach squirm.
Hannibal looked away long enough to begin using his fork and knife, cutting off a corner of the meat and taking a bite. Of course, he is always quite satisfied with his meal, it was Wills response that he was waiting for as he glanced into his direction calmly. Sighing heavily, he placed his glass down and picked up his cutlery. Not hesitating and going straight for the meat, he sliced off a piece. Placing it in his mouth, He kept eye contact with Hannibal as he did so and started to eat. It was as if he was trying to prove a point to the Doctor.
“Delicious.”
Hannibal grinned in approval, appreciative. With a tilt of his head, he turned away and sipped from his glass before pinning a selected vegetable onto the fork.
Will Looked away as he continued to eat, allowing the silence to bare down upon them until it became unbearable to the brunette. “Where are we going?” He asked, picking up his glass to take another swig of wine, it stung his cheek slightly, making him wince. “We obviously can’t stay here… Especially if you’ve killed someone” Will said holding up his fork, looking at the meat before pulling it off of the fork with his teeth and looking back at the other man again.

"We will be going to London, England. I suspect that this is our only option at this moment." He replied, taking another bite from the fork.

He argued with himself with the well articulated thoughts in his mind as teeth ground into food and lips took to the rim. At last setting up another room and reason in his memory palace.

Will was correct, neither of them could stay here and call it a home. There were consequences lurking in the dark, punishment will come knocking on the door. Deciding where to flee is the easiest thing to come by yet also the most difficult.
Will didn’t say anything for a while, he mulled over the thoughts and his feelings. He really couldn’t turn back now, there was no deceiving, lying and acting this time round. “Why London…?” He asked, not able to think of anything else to say. “And what do you do about passports?” He asked. He felt stupid, but he’d never been on the run.
"We have until tomorrow evening to prepare ourselves, Will. I am going to call for flight assistance, board the both of us a plane," Hannibal returned his eyes to Will, "Before this time tomorrow, we are going to London and we shall leave Jack Crawford and the others behind us. Art is the only way to run away without leaving home. "
Will felt a little overwhelmed by everything that was happening. He had only planned so far, he had never thought about what would happen after. “And… And who are we going to be when we’re there?”
Hannibal picked up the ivory napkin and dabbed at the corners of his mouth and folded it neatly onto his now empty plate, placing the silverware on top. "Leave your curiosity to me, in other words, you mustn't stress, Will. After all is said and done, you could adopt the name of your choice whereas I will adopt the name of my uncle ; Robertus, with the last name of Grey. I assure you that everything is going to fall into place. You have my word, Will. "
Will felt like he was jumping way ahead of himself and instead placed his knife and fork down, neatly onto his almost empty plate. He had lost his appetite. He waited for Hannibal to finish his own food. “Can I have that bath now?” He asked, feeling disgusting. He felt like that would at least help him to feel somewhat better.
Rising from the table with a nod of excuse, Hannibal reached for the brunettes' plate and utensils to take to the kitchen.
He halted halfway to, "Yes, you may. Would you be needing assistance?"
“I think I’ll be fine…” He said when Hannibal offered his assistance. “Not that I’ll be able to call you if I start drowning in the tub…” He said, a small smile on his lips. Hannibal raised his chin in an observant manner. "I could give you another shot of anesthesia after your bath if you would like, Will? Excuse me. " With this, he'd listen for a response whilst cleaning the table and ridding of dishes to the sink in which he had set up with warm water and soap. Will still didn’t move away from the kitchen side, instead watching Hannibal.
Hannibal began washing the dishes thoroughly, scrubbing off any excess residue in order to place them into the dishwasher. Lowering the washers lid, he'd tilt sidelong, putting each plate and bowl side by side.
He made a conflicted face before speaking again. “Are we going to be staying… Together?” He asked before continuing, not meaning to sound offensive with the next question. “Or are you going to get rid of me as soon as we get there?”

'Together? '

Hannibal felt the burning presence of the other close by and in a way, it was provoking.
Now with his fingers overlayed with soap bubbles, he would casually push his palms under sink water and rise his eyes on hearing Wills' question ; only to go back to rinsing and placing again.
His ears being fed by a voice that he has allowed overwhelm him over the years, though he'd put a soap bar into the dishwasher slot and start it. "Yes, " Hannibal spoke simply, turning to him with a serious gleam in his eyes that his faint smile was guarded by.

"We are going to be staying together." Hannibal pulled the plug from the sink drain and dried his hands, "I won't be getting rid of you any time soon, Will." His eyes left the other only to seek out the water spiraling down in the sink.
He rubbed at the back of his neck awkwardly at the sudden question he had asked before pushing away from the kitchen side. “Don’t worry… I’m going for that bath.” He said, not looking at Hannibal as he walked out of the kitchen before the man could answer him.
Hannibal closed his eyes, absorbed by the prescence of Will leaving for the bath.
Once the kitchen had been cleared and spotless, Hannibal had wandered up to his bedroom, passing by the guest room.
Going back to the bedroom he had been put in, Will went to the en-suite connected to it and started to run the bath, sitting on the edge of the tub as he watched the water stream out of the taps.

Hannibal begins packing a few things and happens to run across a vintage sketch that he had done. With his thumb trailing over dents of lines in paper. The man takes a leather booklet from his drawer to place it in as sensitive ears captured the rhythmic water crashing from the tub faucet. Inhaling deeply, Hannibal closed the booklet and left for the bedding in a walk in closet to clothe his bed and had taken a set of clothing as well, in case Will needed them for after his bath.
Will laid back in the bath, groaning out in satisfaction as the water lapped around his body and at his bare skin. He raised a wet hand from the water and ran his fingers through his hair before leaning the arm onto the side of the bath.
Hannibal tucked the bed sheets under the corners of the mattress and applied new pillowcases, ensuring that the bloodied covering hadn't fallen to the ground but put them into the dresser. Hannibal reeled back a step and Wills voice came like a flood into his mental focus.
“Hannibal…!”
The man set the pillows back on the bed and had taken the clothing before heading into the guest bedroom.
He waited for the man to come, he had left the door open a crack anyway. He looked down at the bath water, everything was covered by the light foam, so he didn’t have to worry about his dignity.
As he'd walk forwards, Hannibal saw the back of Wills head, taking in the water and red layers of foam. He put the clothes nearby and crossed the line of seperation. "Was there something you had needed, Will?"
Staying laid back, Will cranked and tilted his head back to look at the other man, his chest arching up slightly so that he could do this. “Am I allowed to wash my hair with these damned stitches in?” He said, lifting a wet hand to run through his hair again.
Peering around Wills shoulder, he had kept a reasonable distance out of modesty.

He felt like he should be feeling more self conscious, but he really didn’t care. They were both men, and it’s not like he hadn’t pranced around half naked in front of the man. Hannibal met his eyes for a moment and folded his hands along the front of his waist. He couldn't suppress the smile Will had tempted him to give in return. His bare feet slid along the marble ground, his attention soaking up the diluted blood cascading from fingertips to the hard ground.

Hannibal pulled at the bathroom chair, guiding it near the tub then opened a cabinet for a pair of scissors and another suture kit.
Will watched him move around and gather bits before sitting on the chair next to the tub. He complied and shifted his body, stretching it up slightly, so that Hannibal had better access. "I'm guessing you'll stitch it back up once my hair is clean... I don't want two mouths." Will mumbled.
the man nods, sitting then carefully on the chair.

Hannibal sets the kit on the floor and reaches out his hand, "May I?" He'd ask politely and if able would proceed by brushing the strands of Wills hair out of the way to clip the stitching free.
He sat patiently as the man carefully snipped at the stitches, he couldn't deny that he was hurting now. He hissed out a sound of pain and closed his eyes. "Nngh, fuck.." he whined out, his eyebrows furrowing.
Hannibal drew out the stitches from the man's face, the wire successfully extracted, he heard Wills' proclamation and raised his brows a bit as he studied his structure. Raising then to dispose of the stitches, he'd take the shampoo from behind the tub close to the sink, "I could stitch it back for you, if you would like after your hair is dry. We will need to clean your wound once more before you lie down to bed, I will patch the area as required. " Hannibal ranted crossing towards the seat, he stood still.
Once Hannibal had finished, Will opened his eyes and looked up at him, he was too scared to move now that the stitches had been removed and he could taste blood in his mouth.
Lifting the cap, "Could I help you with anything else, Will?" Hannibal said gently, lowering the bottle to him.
He looked up at Hannibal again, he looked exactly like a kicked puppy, docile blues and floppy hair. He didn’t want to, but he had to ask the older man for his help, once again. “Can you help me do my hair...Please.” He said, a slight pout on his lips appearing as he all but sulked. “I’ll probably end up getting shampoo on my wound…” He huffed and looked away.
Hannibal lowered his chin as his eyes met by Wills own set in all of their fragility . His expression was a toss up between being slightly humoured by what he had heard and one he would have given Abigail.

He inhaled gradually as a weak grin broke onto his lips. He could not bring himself to think of her, Hannibal has always felt the pain of loss over the years, however agony has created a numb being out of him.

A being capable of love but incapable of sorrow.

With a tilt of the shampoo bottle, he tightened his hand around its neck, wringing it of the thick substance. Once the soap had spiraled down into his palm, he put aside the bottle and stepped behind Will.

A free hand would attach to the mans chin from behind in terms to reel his head back a notch. "Lean back, Will. The last time you had told me 'please', I had what you had asked of me. How could I not do my best in helping you?"


Hannibal could not hold back the smile from admitting the truth, rubbing his hands together to create friction and smother both hands in shampoo as desired he'd run his fingers upward from the nape of Wills neck and pressed through his hair gently until reaching the base of his skull.

Tugging gently at damp curls, ensuring that the soap slips into every thin strand of hair. His palms applying pressure as he'd lather the younger mans hair and scalp, his eyes dug in like bullets, focusing all of his mental energy to his fingertips. Scratching gently behind Wills ears, careful not to go near the cut whatsoever.

Will tilted his head as Hannibal guided and closed his eyes, letting the man work on his hair. He physically relaxed at the older man massaged his scalp, it made him feel sleepy. “You should have been a masseuse.” Will said, a small smile gracing his lips as the other continued to wash his hair.
After Wills head became a unique calliflower of sorts, Hannibal took the tin bath cup and turned the knob of the sink to produce water and filled it.
Suspecting that Will had known what to do with his eyes, he'd pour the water onto his head using his other hand to shield the wound. Working his hand through the mans hair to rinse on occasion and had repeat a few times necessary.
Putting the cup back he took a washcloth to dab the harsh cut dry with a fathers hand.

Hannibal went on to clean the mess, "I have brought you a set of clothing for when you get out." Will blinked his eyes a couple of times, as if coming out of a trance. “Thank you.” Will said, both for washing his hair and for the clothes that Hannibal had left him. Tilting upward from bending over for the bottle, he glanced to Will and set a dry towel beside the tub, using his foot to dry the area and leaves it there for his safety. Taking another towel, he'd set it on the back of the chair then get the kit in the process, "Clothing are behind you, Will. I will be in the guest bedroom. "

With a courteous nod, Hannibal exits and closes the door gingerly. The bedroom welcomed his lungs finally, he sighed, drowsy eyed and distant. The fresh smell relaxed him to the bone, he would sit on the chair near the bed and would fix the gap in Wills face once more after he returned.



Staying in the bath a little longer, he finished cleaning up. His skin had pinked at the scrubbing, dry blood was horrible to wash off. Finally getting out of the bath, he pulled the plug and grabbed the towel Hannibal had left for him, drying himself thoroughly he draped the towel over the chair for a moment while he put the change of clothes on. They were obviously Hannibal’s, though they were not far apart in size, his clothes were still slightly too big for Will; namely the length of the sleeves and the shoulders, Hannibal was broader than Will.
Hannibal was sitting paciently, a leg crossed onto the other as hands folded neatly on his lap. His head was tilted back, eyes closed in a scene of surrender. Ears listening to every move from the bathroom, the echo of padding feet and shuffle of clothing.
Will picked up the towel again before coming out of the bathroom, casually rubbing it against his hair which curled around his face. It always curled more when it was wet. Will smiled at Hannibal and went over to him. “Do you want me on the bed?”
He could sense his heat behind his back, it was a ghostly feeling; like lava fingers tracing an aura.
The door opening had sent Lecters eyes snapping awake, lowering his head he'd turn softly to peer over his robust shoulder to Will lingering by the doorway.

Hannibal peered from beneath the sweep of lazy bangs, a smirk on his face, he takes the suture kit from off the beds ledge.

"Yes, I would like you on the bed. "

As Hannibal answers he feels his gut twist awkwardly, his mind falling into the gutter. He really didn't mean for that question to sound so wrong. Swallowing hard he sits on the bed, holding the towel in his lap.
Hannibal noticed the uncomfortability in Wills eyes. However, he refrained from speaking any further until the other had sat down on the bed. Opening the kit, he removes the metallic thread and needle only looking to the brunette momentarily.
He looked at the kit Hannibal had and then at him. He really wasn't looking forward to getting restitched, hopefully this would be the last time until they needed to come out.
"How big do you think the scar will be?" He asked. "Only, I don't want more attention on me than I've already got." He just hoped it wasn't too gruesome looking. He'd rather not be gawped at like an animal in a zoo.
"The scar, I'm afraid, is going to take a long while to appear normally, Will. " Pinching the stitch through the hoop, "You could perhaps grow a bit of beard or go for a more feminine route. Stage make up should cover it wisely, though I advise you let the wound heal and air out, " then,

"Or it is going to not look so well, Will. Before we begin, would you like anesthesia? " he asked, catching his hand close to the brunettes face in an abrupt pause, eyes questioning him.
"No... Just go for it...." will answered the question, moving his hands to dig his fingers into the bed covers in preperation.

Breathing in through his nose he exhaled through his mouth slowly, steady, in an attempt to ground and relax himself.
Without hesitation, Hannibal inserted the needle into the hole already bruised from previous stitching. He worked the thread through, as before, watching the other until signs of struggle subsided. He knew the man would not take lightly to the pain, so Hannibal acknowledged this fact and proceeded with a relatively speedy process. Lacing the wire through Wills cheek like one would a shoe, his wedding finger stretched the flesh into place to avoid the possibility of disfigurement or crooked scarring.
In an attempt to distract himself, he started to speak, though not too much so that Hannibal wouldn't be able to stitch him up. "I was think about what you said earlier, about being who I want while in London. I'm going to take my mothers surname." Will said, he had closed his eyes a while ago, squeezing them to deal with the pain. "William George Moreau has a nice ring to it, no?" Though he'd never met his mother, her name was on his birth certificate and his pa had told him once that she was French-American when Will had first started to learn French and creole from Mrs. Dufont.
Hannibal nodded upward, taking the scissors to cut after tying a micro knot. Pausing briefly, "I think so." He replied, immensely glad that Will considered what he said. Taking the pillow -fabric bandage from the kit, Hannibal applied it onto the area and topped it off with two strips of medical tape on either side.

The older man sat there in a trance of silence, his gaze remained on the others face as though deep in thought.

"What of your family, Will? You could write to them and explain to your wife that you will be leaving Out of state," He grew quiet, his eyes dropping to his frame in a sentimental way, "That you and I will be leaving together, however, I could sign as Robertus. " Lifting his eyes then,
Will felt his insides squirm at the thought of his wife. “No… I don’t want to involve Molly anymore… She and Willy will be fine without me, she’ll find someone that she’s deserving of and they will move on.” Will opened his eyes and looked at Hannibal. “I had my three years, and I’m happy with that.”
Hannibal leeched on to Wills every word as though they were a particular life source he had refused as an ingredient in his daily supper. There was a bittersweet melancholy dropping as tangy water from his ears and into the back of his throat, Hannibal pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth and bit down as thoughts of yesterday poured down like rain.
"We could turn the page, Will. I only want to help you. Would you let me? "

Looking down at his hands, Will removes the wedding band from his finger. There’s a tan line left behind, a small reminder he will carry for a while until it is no more. He looks back up, meeting eyes with the older man and holds the ring out for Hannibal to take. “No one needs a letter, I want to hope they think I’m dead.”
Hannibal met the mans eyes with a twitch of his brow, in Wills eyes lay the lamb and a heat so strong, that his cold heart and twisted bones craved for.
The blue is the water, the fall and the breath that had been worth losing his existence, "All I've ever wanted was for you to be happy, Will. If this is what you want, so be it. "
In his voice, the waves could be heart crashing into the raspy chords until dissolved to silence.
He stays looking at Hannibal in the eyes, searching the maroon for any hint of emotion. Will felt like he was declaring loyalty to the man, as if he was giving the man yet another piece of himself. This piece was the happiness Hannibal had allowed him to have for those three years.
Eyes that had once lingered too long on the other had glanced down to see the band around his finger being removed. Hannibal had smelled the sacrifice, the aging helplessness and despite how he has known for it not being wise for Will to settle down and had told Will times before that it would not be. He remembers Abigail, how Will took her life …but only in his hands.
How he expressed his love…with the knife cutting clean across her throat.
How Abigail would spend those small yet absolute moments down at the lake, being taught to fish.
Though, Hannibal remembers most of all, the love the both of them shared. A love that Will could deny true, a love for Will that could be denied true as well.

The older man wrapped timid, warm fingers around the ring placed into his hand and returned his eyes with a sliver of gold. A solid reflection of the piece that had been given to him, putting his family once more …into his hands.
“This is what I want.” Will answered, leaning forward a bit. He watched the other close his hand around the ring, severing his tie with it, with Molly. Will felt a stabbing sensation in his heart as if Hannibal had just cut the line connected to the ring. His finger started to sting.
"You don't deserve a death. You do deserve a palace. A palace of glass and stone, of clear waters stretching from here to the horizon where every good memory shall play on. A beautiful orchestra, Will. I am going to construct it for you, I promise. Wait and see. "
Hannibal took what Will said and stood by its side, he could not let the man down. After all, this was what he had been waiting for.
With a nod, Hannibal ran the top of his thumb along the band and pondered the equation. It wouldn't take much to accept what the brunette just said, yet his own ears decieved it at first beat. His mind warping around a singular thread until each knot combined over the years had fallen to a sharpened idea, fresh and capable of understanding. The idea of how this is what Will had wanted.
Will took a deep breath and looked up at the mans face again, his lips twitching into a smile at the mans words. “Should I be telling you how romantic you are?” Will raised an eyebrow, his smile growing a little in amusement. He couldn’t deny he had missed this, the two of them, alone and talking.
For Will to look to him as he had, often wondering to himself if he saw anything at all? He did see. Hannibal knew in his deepest of places that he did, it was all a matter of time.
Hannibal smirked in a genuine way, "Who could possibly think that even the darkest of places could not reveal such light? I am quite capable of romance, Will." His choice of words weren't intentionally philosiphical, merely an attempt of expression. It had been a long while since they've sat closer under the same roof, face to face and exchanging words with one another.
Time. The clock, the numbers and years, the shattering of a tea cup in a dark abyss. This hadn't been about becoming the beast, this had been about becoming 'them'. The two were alike in many ways and the differences had set the them apart. Alas, here it was, the reckoning and the Wrath of the Lamb. By looking into the fire in which are lecters eyes, not once refraining- is Will Becoming?
Will wasn’t one for contact, but lifting his hand he lightly tilted Hannibal’s face up. “You haven’t slept have you?” Will asked, narrowing his eyes at the other man. “Here I am whinging about my face and you haven’t even rested.” He pulled his hand away, his fingers feeling hot, tingling from the touch. He tilted his head to the side a little, he hadn’t seen the other man look this tired before. It was refreshing to see the man look so undone.
Hannibal did not wince when the brunette had touched his chin gently to raise his face, he looked down to the other in admiration, this was not the first contact, to touch is to accept on a much deeper term of understanding. Even if Will had the strength, like he has witnessed from the voice years ago admitting to the fact Will would kill him with his own hands, in truth- he would have let him after a good fight.

Like so now, accepting his touch. "You are right, I have not rested." Lowering his chin, his left hand brushed along the place in which had once been touched. He would then raise from the chair whilst collecting the trash and kit used previously. "let us both rest, Will. I shall see you in the morning." In honesty, Hannibal was attempting to leave despite his not wishing to.
For reasons unknown, he wanted to touch the man again, had the years of not being able to physically touch him made him wanting?
Will blinked a few times as his thoughts, they confused him.

He zoned out for a moment, only coming back to himself when Hannibal declared that they should both rest. Crossing to exit, Hannibal gently opens the door and smiles to the empty hallway. His gut pulled as Hannibal stood, watching as the man gathered the things he had left on the floor and bed. It pulled again when the other man walked to the door, Will felt like something had them attached, like he didn’t want the other to leave him here, in this room. He frowned a little and looked at the man “goodnight, Hannibal…”
"Sleep well."

Closing the door behind him, the man would stand there for a little before making his way back to his bedroom and placing the gold ring in the sleeve of the leatherback booklet concealing sketches of Will that one evening they had parted ways with a smile.
Hannibal Lecter loved him, and if Will had to admit it now, yes, he did ache for him. Mind, body and soul. Rolling his eyes at himself, will sat up and ran his fingers through his hair. “Folie à deux” Will said to himself, his french pronunciation not bad for someone that hadn’t spoken it for years. ‘A madness shared by two’ he translated to himself in his head. Because he really could see now, they were like minds, one in the same but at the same time different.
Will continued to stare at the door, unmoving from the spot he was sat. His mind spun his thoughts and feelings into one muddled and confused web. Keeping his feet on the floor, he laid back on the bed, looking up at the ceiling. No, he shouldn’t be confused. Hadn’t he had this conversation with Bedelia before? Sure, he always remember her saying they couldn’t live apart or together.. But he had forgotten the other part momentarily.