23Don't get too close
It's dark inside
It's where my demons hide
Demons- Imagine Dragons
Will deposited Abigail in the car park of the hospital. He felt guilty and scared, but he couldn't risk being questioned about the state she was in. He didn't need to be followed by the police. He couldn't carry her with his ankle in the state it was.
It was almost dusk when he pulled up. He had about an hour left before Walker killed Hannibal.
He had not driven to Jack, as instructed. He had returned to Hannibal's street.
In the half-light, he struggled out of the car and walked on his crutches to the trunk. He opened it and was disappointed to find nothing; this was Hannibal's car, after all. He was a serial killer, for god's sake. Yet there were no weapons in his car.
Will almost laughed at the irony of his annoyance.
He was going to have to find a way to do it by hand. Something primal surged through him.
He crept around the back of Hannibal's house, keeping to the shadows. The light was on in the kitchen. Will could hear the low tones of Hannibal's voice through the closed kitchen window.
Hannibal was sat on a chair. He was down to his shirt- his jacket and coat lay on the counter beside Walker, who had his back to the window. A gun and a knife sat on the coat. Will smiled grimly; these must be the weapons from the car.
Walker was gesticulating wildly with his free hand. In his other hand, he still held the gun. His posture was relaxed.
Will had planned to sneak in, but suddenly he didn't want to.
He approached the house awkwardly, keeping low. Due to his ankle, he found himself crawling painfully.
He pressed himself to the wall beneath the window for a second before pushing himself up.
Through the window, he met Hannibal's eyes over Walker's shoulder. When he remembered later, he would realise that it was the burning rage on his face that made Hannibal smile suddenly, but in the moment it made no sense to him.
He smashed through the window, and if his hands were cut, he felt nothing. Walker jerked, and the gun went off, but before he could turn to face Will, his throat was covered by Will's hands.
Without thinking about his ankle, Will threw himself inside the house, taking Walker to the floor. The gun skidded away. Beneath him, Walker thrashed helplessly. He tried to roll over; as soon as his face was exposed, Will began to hit it.
All he could hear was the blood rushing around his ears. As he repeatedly crushed Walker's head, he was more alive than he could remember. He thought of Abigail and let out a roar.
There was blood everywhere. The world was red.
What was once a face was a damp crimson pulp.
Will took a deep, ragged breath as the moment passed. He swallowed, staring down the dead man. He expected to feel guilt, revulsion, disgust... but he felt calm. He turned his hands over before him, staring at the mess of them. His own blood mixed with Walker's, pouring from his split knuckles.
He looked at Hannibal. Hannibal was standing close, so close that some of Walker's blood had splattered his shirt. He was looking at Will with a naked hunger, his eyes more intense than Will had ever seen them.
Wordlessly, Will reached up to him. Hannibal pulled him up, and they were pressed against each other. Will's heart began to beat very quickly. Hannibal bent to lick his throat, kissing it. Will moaned, aware that this was wrong, but unable to resist.
When Hannibal raised his face, his lips and chin were covered with blood.
"Hannibal." Will said the word, the first word he had said since arriving in the kitchen, in a strangled voice.
He was on the verge of blacking out of reality. He could feel his grasp on it weakening, as it had in the past. Hannibal's face blurred.
"Will, stay with me," Hannibal said, and Will felt himself lifted into those arms he was so used to.
He heard his own voice, distant and echoing, as Hannibal seated him on the counter. Hannibal's face and shirt were covered in blood; Will trailed his hand across the violent stains. "Hannibal. Hannibal... oh, god..."
If anyone other than Hannibal had said the following words, Will would have been certain he was dreaming. "I am so proud of you."
"Oh..." Will was clinging onto Hannibal's shirt, trying to steady his breathing, trying to resist the urge to glance down at the body, the thing, on the floor.
"You chose to kill him, rather than turn me in." Hannibal was frowning slightly. He threaded his fingers through Will's hair, which was sticky with blood.
"Of course," Will breathed, without thinking.
"You love me."
"I said I did." Will was frowning at Hannibal, confused.
Hannibal smiled gently. "You did."
Will closed his eyes. "Please... sort this out. Make sure Abigail is ok."
"Anything for you," Hannibal said. He pressed a kiss to Will's forehead. "I love you."
Will leaned against the cool tiles as Hannibal walked out of the room. His moment of disassociation had passed. He was horrified with himself, yet thrilled. The fact that he had pleased Hannibal was disturbingly pleasing to him.
He had no idea how this would play out now but he trusted Hannibal to sort things out. The thought was oddly comforting. Hannibal was a steady, solid rock.
He heard Hannibal's voice. He was on the phone. "I need you to get here as soon as you can... it's Greg Walker. He came back... Abigail is in the hospital." A pause. "No, there's no danger. There is a problem though... unfortunately, but it wasn't me. It was Will." Another pause, longer. "I know. I will make sure of it. Can you send Alana to the hospital to check on Abigail?"
Hannibal walked back into the kitchen. He was calm and focused. Will watched him admiringly.
"Jack Crawford is on his way," Hannibal said.
"What should I tell him when he arrives?"
"The truth."
"Presumably not the part about the journal which reveals that you're the most deadly serial killer he has ever hunted."
Hannibal smiled. It was open-mouthed, and his pointed teeth gleamed. He looked happier than Will had ever seen him. He truly was terrifyingly brilliant. "Perhaps not. Just say that he let you go to take Abigail to the hospital. It was me he wanted." Hannibal actually laughed. "That is basically the truth, is it not?"
"You terrify me," Will said dryly.
Hannibal approached him, the smile still broad. "Oh, really? Why is that?"
"You have a very liberal approach to the truth."
Hannibal brushed his cheek. "Not when it comes to you."
"I'm sure." Will leaned into his touch. "You also terrify me because you are actually enjoying this, aren't you?"
Hannibal leaned forward, nuzzled into Will's neck. "I could lie," he murmured against Will's skin.
"Please do," Will said, closing his eyes.
He felt Hannibal's tongue trail his throat again, licking at the blood, before trailing his teeth up to Will's earlobe and biting it firmly. "This is a disaster. I am so sad that you killed a man to save me. It is very unattractive to see you covered in blood in my kitchen. This is my worst nightmare."
"It is my worst nightmare," Will said honestly.
Hannibal pulled back and looked at him closely, hands resting on his shoulders. "This is your true nature, Will. You must accept it."
"I don't need you to be my psychiatrist any more, Doctor."
The smile returned. "I will make coffee."
Will felt slightly stunned when Hannibal moved away.
He sat still, wrapping his arms around himself. He wanted to bathe, to get rid of all this blood. The faceless corpse was still on the floor, and now he had to look at it.
It was hideous. It was hard to believe it had ever been human.
Will looked at his ruined hands and wondered how he could have done this.
What upset him the most was how little he was upset.
They were drinking coffee when the FBI arrived. Jack came in first, placing his hat beneath his arm and looking tired. He was followed by Beverly, Zeller and Price.
Jack took a sweeping glance of the scene, of Will and Hannibal, of the ruined thing on the floor. He frowned, then gestured to Hannibal that he wanted to talk in private.
Hannibal patted Will's knee before leaving him with the others.
"You, er, you did this?" Zeller asked, swallowing visibly, looking from the corpse to Will.
"I did," Will said.
"I thought you had a broken ankle," Price said.
"I do."
The men exchanged a dark glance before squatting down beside the body.
Many hours later, Will sat in the bath in the hotel. The water was a surreal shade of pink. Hannibal was kneeling beside the bath, a sponge in his hand, gently wiping Will's back. Abigail had regained consciousness and had called them from the hospital. She was going to be fine, and they had arranged to visit her in the morning. Everything was good. They had to wait for the FBI to finish before they could return to Hannibal's home, but the hotel was delightful.
It shouldn't be good, but it was.
"Don't be nice to me," he said to Hannibal. "I mean, you don't have to be."
Hannibal paused in his washing, cocking his head. "Am I not usually?"
Will said nothing, merely cocked his eyebrow. Hannibal laughed, and to Will's amazement, splashed him with the bloody bathwater.
Afterwards, they lay together in bed, fingers entwined. Will's head was resting on Hannibal's shoulder. He closed his eyes and breathed in his familiar scent.
"Did you ever imagine this would happen?" Will asked. "Actually, that's a silly question. Of course you did. This was your design, wasn't it? To make me kill."
Hannibal didn't deny it. "I didn't imagine how happy I would feel. Despite your beliefs, it is not because you killed, although I won't claim that has not pleased me. It is because you chose to save me."
Will smiled. Again, Hannibal's pleasure and validation made him feel proud.
"I love you," Hannibal said.
Will thought he would never grow tired of hearing those words. No matter what happened, as long as he could hear Hannibal say that every day, he knew he would be happy.
That was the most terrifying thought of all.
Note: And it's done! Thank you so much to everyone who has read this, commented, been kind etc, you really have all made me so happy. There will be one more story in this series, and because I am not cruel (mostly) I will post the first chapter straight after this one. Again, thanks! Much love.
