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asrielscarlet · 9 years ago

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ᴛʜᴇ sᴘʟᴇɴᴅᴏʀ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ sᴏᴜʟ

Hannibal and Will’s first kiss. After the two fall from the cliff, they manage to survive. The FBI has stopped trying to capture them, and they live a ‘normal’ life… Well, as normal as two murder husbands can be… Warning: Angst and depression… Well, kind of. Just the side effects of Will falling from the cliff. (I can’t write anything without making it depressing.)

Hello everyone! Well, because it’s October, I’ve decided to make a bunch of Hannibal drabbles! Well, at least… That’s what this started as. I kind of got carried away. I always get carried away. I swear, all my writing is way too long… I got this idea from a friend on Facebook. (I had posted a picture of Mads going “shh” and she gave me this brilliant idea. XD)

So, I went for it. It has some angst… I literally cannot write something without angst in it… I’m too depressing for that. Haha!

I started just meaning to write a fun little story of Hannibal tying Will up and drawing him, but it turned into something way deeper than that… I was also debating whether to make this a smut fanfic or not, but decided on just putting in Will and Hannibal’s first kiss.

Our murder husbands are alive! Yayyyy!!!! (God, I love dominant Hannibal.)

Please comment your thoughts below! Comments give me lifffeeeeee~

And suggest any more topics you would like me to write about. (See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

“You must have chaos within you to give birth to a dancing star.” ― Friedrich Nietzsche

Hannibal and Will stood on the edge of the cliff, looking down at the dark, roiling sea beneath them. Over a hundred feet down, large, violent waves crashed into sharp rocks, spraying droplets of water and foam into the air. They danced, limpid in the cool air, completely free of the surrounding water, before gently raining back down and reassembling with the greater mass of the ocean.

In the darkness, Will could only make out faint movement of waves colliding with the rocky cliff. If he didn’t know of the cliff’s existence, he could have walked right over the steep edge, and fallen into the abyss. However, the booming cacophony of crashes that rang out into the otherwise silent night made the drop’s existence far more obvious. In the past, Will wondered what it would be like to fall into the ocean from such a height. He had seen movies in which the brave hero would jump into the cerulean water from a cliff, destined to fight a world saving battle. They would always emerge from the water, gasping but unscathed before courageously swimming away.

That wasn’t how it worked. Not at all. After killing Dolarhyde, Will and Hannibal had fallen from the safe house’s cliff. Down they had fallen, the wind rushing around them, time seeming to still as they descended. For a moment, Will swore he saw his life flashing behind his eyes. All the cases he had worked on back in the FBI, his dogs, Alana, meeting Hannibal… Hannibal… Hannibal…

“Can’t live with him. Can’t live without him.” Bedelia’s voice echoed in Will’s mind. It bounced off the mirror covered walls and rang out clear in his head. Repeating. Repeating. Will supposed that was the entire reason he had jumped from the cliff with Hannibal in tow. When he had let out his previously confined instincts; when he had killed freely with Hannibal. It had felt so good. He felt unobstructed by his usual thoughts, cogent for the first time… Strong. And it scared him. Hannibal once told him that doing bad things to bad people makes us feel good. And he was right. Will had been afraid to embrace the idea, reluctant to accept Hannibal’s way of thinking, knowing that if he did, his soul would be forever lost to the void. But Hannibal got his way. He always did. Manipulative bastard.

When the two hit the surface of the water, Will’s reverie was broken. So were many of his bones. During their fall, Hannibal had wrapped his arms tightly around Will’s waist and flipped to the side, effectively taking the brunt of the fall. The world seemed to grow bigger for a second, cold water engulfing them. Will had opened his mouth and cold, salty water filled it. He gasped, inhaling more water and forced his eyes open. Hannibal’s arm was still around his waist, but he was still. Will forced his eyes open and glanced around at the blurry, underwater world. Looming rocks surrounded them, and it was silent. Oh, so silent. Will wondered if he and Hannibal should just stay there, in the silence. Let themselves become another one of the ocean’s treasures, sinking deeper and deeper into the darkness, the peace… It was a tempting offer.

Was it good to see me, Will? Will… Will… Will.

The voice filled his mind. Engulfing him. Piercing his soul.

We’re not dead. The fall didn’t kill us. Could fate have spared us?

No. Now was not the time to think about that. Will surged upwards, ignoring the sharp pain that stung his entire body. One of his arms clutched at Hannibal’s shirt, the other spinning wildly through the cold water. His head broke the surface of the water and he choked in air, gasping and flailing about. A rush of water came at him and pushed him back under, and his grasp on Hannibal loosened. Will fought on. Up through the murky waves and torrents of frigid water, he swam and swam, Hannibal in tow until his feet hit on a solid surface. Will was so cold he could barely feel his legs, but he forced himself to drag Hannibal and himself onto the cold, rocky beach they had swam to. The moment Will had gotten fully gotten himself onto land, he knelt down, pressing two fingers into Hannibal’s neck, checking for a pulse. It was there, weak and fluttering like a bird. Will let out a breath.

The rest of the night was a blur. Hannibal had woken up, coughing up water and blood, looking so different from his usual composed and immaculate self that Will could barely believe it was him. The two had struggled to their feet, and made their way across the stony beach (which was really just more of a large, rocky field near the ocean). Bleeding and exhausted, the two had trudged through a dense forest, stumbling on thick tree roots, and trying to stop the flow of blood from their wounds. In the middle of that forest, they had found an old, abandoned cabin. The ancient frame was made of logs, and a small porch was slowly crumbling. The door had been knocked off its hinges. Ivy, and tall grasses filled the inside of the small cabin. But it was more than enough. Hannibal and Will had collapsed there for 13 hours. Upon waking, Will was told by Hannibal that he had found a small town a few miles away. They walked to the town (thankfully the ocean water had rinsed away most of the blood), observing the few hundred people who lived there. It was secluded. Far away from any large cities, and, as Will would say: “In the boonies.”

With 50 dollars to both of their names, the two rented a small hotel room. The FBI would surely be searching for them, but when they turned on the TV, the news was blaring the news that they were… Dead?

No, that couldn’t be. Jack knew full well that both of them weren’t dead… He knew they would escape… So why wasn’t he coming after them? Why weren’t police cars scouring every corner of this small, out of the way village? Two days later, they realized why.

On national television, Jack Crawford made a statement to the nation, revealing the truth about the Ripper, about the Tooth Fairy Murders, and about Will Graham. He told everyone that the Hannibal Lecter and Will Graham had been killed, fighting the Tooth Fairy to the death. There were no pictures of their faces. At the end of the broadcast, Jack looked straight into the camera and said, “Acta est fabula, plaudite.” The play is over, applaud. Those were Emperor Augustus’s last words. A cry of defeat, of victory, and of finality. Jack had given up. Or perhaps, he realized that Will would follow his true nature, no matter how much he tried to stop it. Maybe it was a gift to Will, for whom he felt remorse, for dragging into madness. He knew that Will wouldn’t live without Hannibal, and so, in a final act of kindness, set both of them free.

Will’s suspicion was proven when an envelope appeared on their doorstep the next day. In it were two ID’s, 2 credit cards, and a note that had one word written on it, in small, swirling letters. Live. The ID’s were for a ‘Hunter Landi’ and a “William Audolf”. Seeing the ID’s, Hannibal had smiled. Jack had changed Hannibal’s name, an inside joke that all three of them would understand. Will, on the other hand, had gotten to keep his previous name, knowing that Jack had acknowledged his decision, and accepted it. “Audolf” meant “the wolf’s friend”, which he was. If Hannibal was a wolf.

All the money from both Hannibal and Will’s old bank accounts had been transferred into new accounts under both of their fake aliases. (Which was quite a lot, in Hannibal’s case.) The two had decided to stay in the small, beach side town, at least for a little while. They were currently renting a small cabin near the ocean. One that smelled of the sea and was in the middle of a meadow full of flowers.

Two months had passed. Long, painful months. Will would wake up sweating and screaming in his room, dreaming about Abigail, Alana, and Garrett Jacob Hobbs. In the beginning, Hannibal would rush in, eyes full of worry.

“Will.” He would ask.

“Will, tell me what happened. What did you see?”

Looking at him brought back dark memories, and Will would turn away, and refuse to talk. Hannibal eventually stopped coming to check on him after his nightmares.

In the morning, Will would rush downstairs. Hannibal was always awake before him, a pot of hot coffee resting on the stove. Will would mutter a quick “thanks” before taking his mug of coffee and going out to sit on the porch. He would return inside an hour later, to find Hannibal gone, a plate of toast and eggs waiting for him with a glass of fresh orange juice beside it.

Many times, memories from his past would resurface. They would fill Will’s head. Screaming. Blood splattering against hard tile. Alana. Abigail. He would clutch his head and close his eyes, trying to block it all out. Hannibal found him like this, once, and tried to pull Will’s clenched fists away from where they were tightly woven in his hair.

“Stop, Will. You’re hurting yourself.”

Will had punched him.

Will would look in the mirror when he was getting dressed or washing up. The scars on his face and stomach would remind him of the Dragon. Or Hannibal gutting him, killing Abigail. He would grit his teeth as their screams echoed through his mind. Louder and louder. Why didn’t you save me? Why didn’t you save me? Abigail’s voice was the loudest. Will had broken the mirror in his room four times in those two months. Every time he did, he would return to find a new mirror in the old one’s place, the shattered glass gone.

Will would remember his dogs, and a painful ache would fill his heart. He missed them. Their enthusiasm, their different personalities, their constantly loving companionship. He bought a book full of dog pictures and looked at it constantly for a week. Hannibal noticed and asked him about it one night. Will had yelled at him, blaming him for everything that happened and saying terrible, terrible things. The next morning Will saw a stray dog on the road to the market. He stopped and tried to pet it. It bit him in the arm. He had returned home to find Hannibal waiting, holding the medical box in hand. He had led Will gently to the sink, rinsing and bandaging his wounds without saying a word. Will hadn’t thanked him.

Some days, a boiling rage would fill Will. He hated Hannibal. It was all Hannibal’s fault that they were stuck in this secluded little cabin in the woods. It was Hannibal who had ruined his life. On those days, he would avoid Hannibal at all costs. If Hannibal talked to him, he would scream and yell and insult him with awful words.

Other days, Will would be consumed by grief. Grief over all the people he hadn’t saved. Grief over Abigail, over what he put Alana and Jack through. Grief over his dogs. It was like a dark cloud, engulfing him and his mind, pulling him down, down, down. Those days, Hannibal would always keep Will in sight. He would sit in the kitchen, drinking tea as Will paced around the living room. He would insist on following Will to the market because “he needed special ingredients”, even if Will swore that he would buy them. He would let will curse and yell at him without raising an eyebrow.

In those months Will couldn’t even look at Hannibal. When the two were in a room together, an uncomfortable silence filled the air. Hannibal would silently watch Will, his dark eyes unblinking and unwavering. Will would look away, not knowing what to say, and hold the silence until one of them would sigh and turn away.

In those two months, both of them went about healing from their wounds, slowly and steadily regaining their strength. Will would take long walks along the beach, shoes off, his toes squishing through the cold sand.

Hannibal wouldn’t go outside much during the day. He would read, sketch, or cook, amusing himself alone in the study. Every night, when the sky had faded to a gentle scarlet, Will would return from the beach. He would always find a plate of deliciously cooked food waiting for him at the table, a glass of red wine set beside it. The food was always warm and fresh, and Will wondered how Hannibal knew when he would be coming back.

Hannibal was never too be seen when Will ate. Will would eat silence, thinking about all the things he had been through. He wondered where Hannibal went, on the nights he left the house, and one night, on a day when Will was feeling particularly steady, his curiosity got the best of him. He saw that Hannibal’s fine, black, dress shoes were gone, as well as his custom made sweater, so he assumed that Hannibal had gone outside. Darkness had engulfed the world, crickets chirping quietly into the cool air, stars began to appear in the blackness of the night sky, twinkling ever so often.

There was a path behind the cabin. It lead through the meadow and into the forest until it reached an outcrop of rocks, situated above the ocean. Another cliff. Of course Hannibal would go there.

Will slowly ambled down the path, breathing in the crisp air and smiling when he heard the hooting of an owl in a large tree above him. He exited the winding path, and saw Hannibal standing on the cliff, hand behind his back, elegant as always.

“Hello, Will.” The man seemed to know whenever Will was around, and it didn’t even surprise him anymore. The voice was calm.

“Hello, Dr. Lecter.”

Will approached Hannibal’s tall form from behind, slowly and quietly, until the two stood side by side. They were silent for a few minutes, each lost in their own thoughts. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, like it usually was, but easy, melancholy in a way.

Will was the first to speak.

“The stars are bright tonight…” His voice trailed off as he peered up at the glinting dots that now filled the black void of the sky. Hannibal was silent, waiting for Will to continue talking.

“They… Remind me of the city lights. Fleeting… Mysterious… But so dazzling at the same time… I want… To touch them.” At this point, Will was mostly just talking to himself, but he saw the tall man beside him smile. He hadn’t seen Hannibal smile in a long time, and a rush of warmth filled him.

“In that way, they are much like human souls. Transient, effervescent, yet expending a vitality and vigor that cannot be ignored. Even if only for a temporary time.” Hannibal replied after a moment of silence.

His words didn’t cut into the air as they usually did, instead ringing out, infusing themselves with the crashing of waves and gentle breeze. A gentle song.

“Do you miss the lights of the city?” Do you miss being away from me?

Will thought for a moment.

“No. They were fake. A pretty facade hiding the dark cruelty of the city underneath bright, neon glows.” No. I don’t miss hiding. I don’t miss suppressing my instincts. I don’t miss you.

Hannibal nodded in approval, looking over at Will, whose face was still turned to the sky. Will felt the powerful gaze, and his eyes flickered to Hannibal’s face, eyes meeting for a split second before looking back at the ground.

“I wonder… Is my soul as… Splendorous as you think all other souls are?” Will whispered the question, pausing between words, face flushing and looking anywhere but Hannibal, who had taken a step closer to him and was studying his face with a curious expression.

“Undoubtedly. As a matter of fact, I might even suggest that it’s more exquisite than all the other souls I’ve seen combined.”

Will blushed in the darkness, not used to such blatant flattery from the typically composed doctor standing next to him.

Without warning, Will’s mind flashed back to the FBI cases he had worked on. Abigail’s face as she lay bleeding out on the floor. Garret Jacob Hobbs whispering “See? See?” The totem pole of bodies. Alana’s broken body as she lay surrounded by glass on Hannibal’s front walk. Abigail dying next to him. Dying. Dying. Dying.

He flinched, his hand flying up to stomach, where the long scar Hannibal had given him rested. He hadn’t realized his breathing had increased until a familiar voice broke through the gory images flashing through his head.

“Will.”

Will. That simple word broke him from the dark trance he was in. It flooded his mind with light, shattering the mirrors that reflected Abigail, Hobbes, and Alana. He took in a deep breath.

“My soul. Is… Tainted. It’s the opposite of splendorous. You saw to that, Hannibal.”

He could feel Hannibal’s disapproving gaze rest on him, but looked away. The sound of crickets chirping filled the air, until…

“Then I suppose I must disprove you of these beliefs.” Hannibal’s voice was quiet in the darkness.

“Come.” And with that quiet command, Hannibal turned elegantly and started to make his way down the wooded path. Will hesitated for a moment, wondering what Hannibal was talking about, before quickly hurrying after the receding shadow. The short walk back to the cabin was quiet, Hannibal walking purposefully into the living room and flicking on the fireplace before gesturing for Will to sit on the large couch that filled most of the room.

Will sat. He was about to open his mouth and speak, when Hannibal’s voice broke the silence.

“Tell me, Will. What do you fear?”

“W-what?”

Silence. Hannibal waited. He was standing next to the couch, the fireplace illuminating his face, the light from the fire dancing across his pale skin and elegant cheekbones.

“Fear… I fear…” He paused.

“Myself?” He questioned.

“No. Not anymore.” Hannibal replied quietly. His tone wasn’t arrogant, merely factual.

He was right. Will’s greatest fear in the past was the darkness that lurked within his soul. But ever since Hannibal came along, his fear had faded into acceptance. On most days, this statement would have sent Will into a fury, he would have raged and screamed the the doctor. But this night was different. A strange peace had settled over the house.

“I fear… Loss.”

“Loss of what?”

“Control.”

Hannibal’s lips twitched upwards and Will flinched. Whatever Hannibal was thinking, it wasn’t going to be fun.

“Hann-” His question was cut off when Hannibal raised a graceful hand, holding it up to silence him. Without saying a word, he stepped out of the room, returning a moment later with… A bundle of rope and two ties?”

“Hannibal?” Will’s eyes narrowed when he saw them. What was Hannibal planning?

“One of humanity’s largest troubles is dealing and accepting fear. Every human fears something, whether that be the universal fear of dying, to the arachnophobia.” While he spoke, Hannibal took measured steps towards Will, who was slowly backing away. He reminded Will of a panther stalking prey.

“When man faces fear, his true nature will be revealed. His soul is illuminated in the dazzling glow of his essence.” He was now standing in front of Will. Slowly, he leaned forwards, his lips touching Will’s ear.

“I will show you the splendor of your soul, Will.”

Will flinched, his back hitting the sofa, he pressed into the soft fabric, away from Hannibal. Hannibal merely smiled serenely, straightening his back and waiting patiently for Will to meet his gaze.

“And… How will you do that? Why?” He asked, on edge. This was the first time he had spoken to his… Friend? Therapist? Something more? In months, and the feeling of uneasiness settled over him again.

“I believe that this will be a good opportunity to dispel your inaccurate depiction of how you see yourself, Will. Moreover, what I’m about to do possesses a therapeutic value of its own.” When Will frowned, confused, he continued.

“You lack the loss of control. That fear has driven you ever since I first laid eyes on you. It impacts your decisions, the way you act around others, and the way you think. It an unhealthy perception. As a psychiatrist, I think it would be best to start medicating that detrimental block of yours.”

Will didn’t like the sound of that. He did fear losing control, and was immediately against the idea of the doctor doing anything that would rob him of his control, even if he was aware of it this time. However, he was also interested in how the man who had put him through so much saw him. Hannibal had once described Will as “the mongoose he wanted under the house when the snakes slithered by”. And he wondered if Hannibal’s views on him had changed. His soul. For so long, he had believed that his soul was simply a bunch of mirrors. Void, if not only to express the souls of those around him. What does it look like? What does Hannibal think it looks like?

Slowly, Will nodded. He saw something akin to triumph in Hannibal’s eyes.

“Then I will need you to remove your shirt and pants.”

A moment of silence.

“WHAT?!” Will burst out, his face going bright red.

Hannibal sighed theatrically, then turned to Will, face serious.

“I’m going to show you the splendor of your soul. It will be difficult with you all covered up in those baggy atrocities.”

“My clothes aren’t atrocious!” Will shot back, glancing down at his baggy tee shirt and loose jeans. They were… Comfortable. Hannibal gazed at him with amusement, not saying a word, just raising an infuriatingly perfect eyebrow.

“Is this really necessary?” Will asked, glaring at Hannibal.

Hannibal nodded calmly. Will sighed.

Slowly, he began to raise the oversized shirt over his head. He paused when he felt the cold air of the cabin brush against his skin, and heard a quiet sigh from his right.

“Will.”

“Are you sure-”

“Yes.”

Not looking at Hannibal, Will fully pulled the shirt off, clutching it to his chest and grimacing. He could feel Hannibal’s eyes sweeping over his body, taking in his many scars and cuts.

Hannibal raised a hand out in Will’s direction, motioning to the shirt that Will was now tightly holding. Hesitating, Will handed the shirt to Hannibal who gave it a distasteful look before neatly folding it and placing it on a nearby chair. With nothing covering his scarred skin, and being eyed over by his psychiatrist, Will felt vulnerable and a little annoyed. He crossed his arms and looked expectantly up at Hannibal.

“Your pants.” The reminder came, and Will could hear amusement in the voice. He scowled.

“Hannibal, really-” He was cut off again.

“Many artists draw their subjects nude. Is that what you’d prefer, Will?”

With a start, Will realized that Hannibal intended to sketch him in the thick notebook he kept with him. He shook his head quickly.

“You’re going to draw me? But… Why?”

“Many people believe that drawing a person, capturing a moment in time for all eternity is something that only artist can achieve. I agree with them. Through art, I intend to show you your soul. Now, back to my previous question…”

“Hell no!” Will burst out, blushing at the thought.

“Then, your pants. Please.” Hannibal spoke quietly, but Will could hear the order.

He unbuckled his belt slowly, before unbuttoning and unzipping his pants and stepping out of them. He didn’t meet Hannibal’s eyes as he tossed the pants to the side and quickly sat back down on the couch.

Hannibal leaned down and picked up the pants, shooting a stern glance at Will before folding them and setting them next to his shirt.

“Well… Get on with it then.” Will grumbled, arms crossed over his chest, his face turned to the fireplace, focusing on the bright orange flames that danced within. He could feel Hannibal’s smile from where he was seated.

“Ahh, not yet, Will. Like this, your soul is not visible. Arms behind your back, please.”

Will froze.

“W-what?!”

Hannibal waited expectantly, gazing down at Will with a gentle fondness, his lips twitched up into a smirk.

“Need I repeat myself?”

“There’s no reason that you have to tie me up!” Will shot back, eyes narrowed.

“Our previous conversation on human fear falsifies that statement, Will. Hands, please.”

The two sat in the cozy room, the fireplace dancing merrily. Blue eyes glared into black ones. 1,2,3,4… Will’s eyes were narrowing. 5,6,7… Will looked away, unable to maintain eye contact with the intense man beside him.

“I… Don’t think I want to see my soul anymore, Hannibal. I’m perfectly content staying in the dark.”

A Cheshire grin.

“Ahh, now, Will… It’s far too late to back out now… And as it is, I am not content letting you stay in the dark.” Hannibal’s voice was soft, like velvet and Will grit his teeth together in frustration.

Hannibal continued his prodding, “You’re so strong, Will. Surely something like this won’t make you shrink away…”

Now Will’s pride was on the line. He growled under his breath, and saw Hannibal’s eyes brighten with amusement.

Muscles tensed, and back straight, Will turned on the couch so that his back was facing Hannibal. He took a deep breath in and slowly moved his arms so his hands were crossed behind his back.

Without saying a word, Hannibal shifted onto the couch behind Will, rope in hand. When he felt the smooth rope slipping over his hands, around his wrists and tightening, Will flinched. His FBI instincts kicked in and he quickly tried to pull his hands apart. Hannibal had grasped both of his wrists in a firm grasp, and held them together.

“Let me go.” Will said shakily.

“No.”

The rope looped around his wrists a few times, before tightening in a gentle, yet unbreakable knot. Will tried to move his hands, but they were held in place. He hated confined spaces, and was even more uncomfortable with being restrained in any sort of way. He found that he could lift his arms upwards behind his back, and did so, trying to get the man behind him away. He heard a small chuckle.

“Your tenacious spirit never fails to amuse me, Will. But, we can’t have you moving so much…”

The rope wound its way up Will’s arms, forcing them together and entwining itself between them before it reached his shoulders. Will’s breathing had increased as images of kidnapped victims and decapitated bodies filled his head. He tensed and tried to back away, but Hannibal placed a hand on his shoulder, holding him in place. He felt the hand tighten.

“Be still.” Hannibal said quietly. “Relax.”

The soft words didn’t help Will’s racing mind at all, and he struggled even more. Hannibal’s other hand slid around Will’s body, resting gently on his cheek, two fingers stroking a path up and down.

“Breathe, Will. Do not allow your fear to get the better of you. Take a deep breath. Deeper. Deeper. Yes, like that. Keep breathing, Will.”

Will had managed to clear his mind, the bloody images fading away into the darkness once again. He realized the rather intimate position that he and Hannibal were in, and flinched. Hannibal removed both of his hands, turning his attention back to the rope. He wound the soft material over Will’s shoulder, down around his chest, around his waist, and then back up around his chest on the other side. He cut it and tied it off at Will’s neck. Will tried to move, and found that he couldn’t. He couldn’t even twitch his fingers, let alone move his arms. He breathed in, trying to steady himself and his now racing heart.

Hannibal released Will, before shifting his gaze down to his legs. Will shuddered.

“Aren’t I tied up enough, Hannibal?” He said, his voice full of annoyance.

“On the contrary, Will.”

Hannibal put his hand on one of Will’s ankles, stroking the bone that calcaneus (that bone that sticks out the side of your ankle where it meets the foot) bone with a long, elegant finger. Will shuddered and Hannibal smiled.

Swiftly, Hannibal slipped the rope around Will’s ankles, winding them around them three times before tying a tight knot. Reflexively, Will tried to bring his knees up to his chest. In the fast movement, Will had forgotten that his entire upper body was immobile. He toppled over onto his side on the couch, his bound legs laying on the floor, while his torso rested on the couch.

“Umm… A little help here?” He grumbled. Hannibal let out a “tsk tsk” and looked down at Will, who resembled a large caterpillar. He knelt down and grasped both of Will’s bound ankles in his hands, before pushing him onto the couch, laying sideways to face Hannibal.

“That’s not what I meant by ‘help’, Hannibal!” Will glared up at him. Hannibal merely gave an amused smile to Will.

“I think that this will be a perfect pose to draw you in, Will.”

“I think that I don’t like this.” Will started to rock side to side, attempting to sit up. Instead, he nearly toppled off of the couch, letting out a loud swear. Hannibal’s hand shot out and grabbed him by the shoulder, pushing him back onto the sofa and squeezing.

Will winced, before turning blazing eyes to the doctor.

“Will, you really must stop being so difficult. I told you before that this has therapeutic value as well, didn’t I?”

“Therapy is my time. Didn’t you tell me that, doctor?” Will retorted, annoyance clear in his voice.

“Of course, Will. Therapy sessions are all yours to control. Treatment however, is mine.”

Will rolled his eyes. Hannibal smiled calmly at him.

“No open your mouth. I need to gag you.”

Will let out an incredulous noise, and met Hannibal’s eyes. Blue clashed with black. Black enveloped blue. Will looked away again.

He flinched when he felt a firm hand on his jaw, pushing his mouth open. Letting out a squawk of surprise, Will tried to clamp his mouth shut, but Hannibal’s hand tightened into a painful grip, his years of hunting and killing people overtaking Will’s few murders. A tie was shoved into his mouth, and Will gagged. Hannibal tied the two sides around Will’s head tightly, and then released Will’s head from his grasp. Will tried to spit out the material that was stuffed in his mouth, glaring at Hannibal and attempting to thrash out of his bonds, but to no avail.

“Good.” Hannibal said, smiling. “Now, I am going to blindfold you. I would appreciate it if you would stay still for this one.”

Will let out a muffled shout through the tie.

“That-ermf-wasn’t-pfff-part of the-*gag*deal!”

Hannibal’s smile widened and his eyes were positively wicked.

“I don’t recall mentioning these two topics in our previous discussion on this. Therefore, it’s rather illogical to bring them up now, don’t you agree, Will?”

Will could tell that Hannibal was enjoying this, and wanted to punch him in the face. Or throw something at him. Or both. Hannibal raised the second tie and started to position it over Will’s eyes. The sudden darkness made Will jump in surprise and he threw his head back.

“What a persistent boy you are…” Hannibal murmured.

With one hand, he grasped the back of Will’s head and pushed it up off of the couch, with the other, he placed the tie over Will’s head. He gently released Will and tied the blindfold firmly over Will’s eyes.

Will couldn’t see anything, and couldn’t move his body. This was his worst nightmare. Again, scenes of murders started to flash through his mind. The eye of bodies. The corpses stuffed inside horses. Garrett Jacob Hobbs. Abigail. Alana. Jack. Beverly…

A firm hand settled on Will’s shoulder. It was warm and heavy. Will gasped, the memories disappearing all at once.

“Will.” The soft voice said, closer to him that it was before.

“Breathe. You are safe. No one is going to harm you.” The words were repeated like a mantra, evenly and calmly, until Will’s breathing returned to normal.

The hand disappeared, and immediately Will’s heart began to race. He hated feeling this vulnerable, and hated the fact that Hannibal was the only one who could calm him at the moment.

“Hannibal.” His voice was shaking.

He heard footsteps walking away from him.

“Hannibal.” Louder this time.

The footsteps returned, and he heard Hannibal sit in the chair nearby. The sound of papers rustled, and a small clink made Will realize he was opening his box of pencils.

“Hann-Hannibal!”

Will’s voice was growing desperate. He struggled against his bonds with all his might, his voice muffled by the gag. They didn’t give way. Bloody images flew through his mind faster and faster.

“Hannibal! Dammit! Hannibal!”

The soft scratching of a pencil on paper rang through the room. Hannibal still didn’t respond.

Oh God… Someone could walk in and kill me… And I wouldn’t be able to do anything about it… I’m completely helpless. How could I have let this happen? Hell, Hannibal could do away with me with no problem! Dammit! Dammit!

A page flipped.

How do we know Jack is done chasing us? We don’t know that for sure… He could be here any moment… Oh God… He’ll kill both of us… Or worse, throw us into Chilton’s mental asylum for the rest of our lives. Stop. Stop. STOP

The scratching had resumed.

We’re going to die. I’m going to die. They’re going to kill me.

Will didn’t know who “they” were, but in his panicky state, everything was a threat. The fireplace crackled.

His heart raced.

A gun. Was that a gun? No. It wasn’t… Or was it? Oh… God… Images of dead bodies. Dismembered bodies. Dying people. Bleeding people.

Alana. I have to save Alana. I have to… I have to! Alana! They’re going to kill her. NO!

Behind his closed eyes, he saw Alana laying on the sidewalk, shards of glass sticking out of her fine jacket, her dull eyes looking up into the sky, rain drops splashing own, blood covering Will’s hands.

No. No. No. No. NO. I couldn’t save her. I couldn’t. I can’t save anyone. It’s his fault. Whose fault? Hannibal? No. Hannibal saved me. No. He dammed me. He dammed all of us. This is just a game to him. Just a game. Abigail. Abigail!

Abigail materialized in his mind, her brown eyes wide, throat slit, blood gushing down her front. She clutched at her neck. Why couldn’t you save me? Why couldn’t you save me? Why? Why? WHY?!

Will bit down on the tie so hard that he knew he would have drawn blood, were it his tongue. He thrashed against the ropes and let out muffled screams in between gasps of air.

How could Hannibal just be sitting there calmly when something like this was happening?! The gentle scratching continued and Will wanted to scream. He tugged at his arms and legs, pulling, but they wouldn’t budge.

On this went, his anxiety and panic rising as each moment passed. He lay there, drowning in the black mud of his doubts for what seemed like an eternity. He continued to struggle, breathing faster and faster, white dots appeared behind his closed eyes. He was about ready to start smashing his head on the floor when the scratching stopped. The notepad was placed on a table. Hannibal rose. Steady footsteps approached Will.

Kill me. He’s going to kill me. Kill. Kill.

A gentle hand untied the blindfold. With a precise gentleness, it was removed. Will blinked furiously, before turning to look at Hannibal.

But Hannibal wasn’t there. The wendigo replaced him, staring down at him with pitiless eyes, horns brushing the top of the cabin’s wall. It reached towards him, and Will shrunk backwards, expecting a blow. Instead, the wendigo reached up to Will’s neck and started to untie his arms. The moment Will could move his arms, he snapped out, as fast as a cobra, and wrapped his arms around the wendigo’s throat. He squeezed.

The wendigo’s hands flew up, and grabbed Will’s wrists, tightening and tightening until he could feel the bones grinding together.

Not today, Satan! Will thought, slamming his eyes shut and continuing to squeeze. When he opened them, he saw Hannibal Lecter standing in front of him, calmly gazing down at him, his wrists still tightly pinned together. Will let out a breath.

“H-Hannibal?” He muttered.

“Yes, Will?”

Will let go of Hannibal’s neck. Hannibal let go of his hands and started to untie his feet.

Will evened his fast pants and took in a deep breath, adjusting to Hannibal standing there instead of the wendigo.

“I…I…” His voice trailed off as his legs were freed.

“Shh, be still.” Hannibal’s quiet command broke through Will’s confused state, and Will sat up, eyes glazed.

Hannibal reached up and ran his hands down both of Will’s arms. He frowned when he notice the tightness.

“Will, relax your arms.” Will tried, but they felt like over tightened rubber bands. He winced.

Hannibal moved over to Will’s right arm and began to press his fingers firmly into the tight muscles. The sudden pain made Will flinch, and he tried to pull away.

“Hush.”

The hands continued to press into the muscles, moving upwards until the reached his shoulder. At his shoulder, Hannibal grasped it between his hand and squeezed. A jolt of pain ran through Will’s arm and he let out a yelp of pain. Hannibal gently lowered his arm back down and proceeded to do the same thing to Will’s other arm. Once again, Will let out a yelp.

“Turn around.”

Will narrowed his eyes. Hannibal sighed, before grabbing both of Will’s shoulders and spinning him around, his back now facing him. He lay both of his hands on the top of Will’s shoulders and began to rub the abused muscles.

“So… Did you manage to capture my soul?” Will asked, wanting to fill the uncomfortable silence with some sort of sound.

The hands moved lower and pressed into the rhomboid major muscle (the back of the shoulders), rubbing firm circles. Will let out a small gasp.

“I did. Capturing it and transferring its radiance was quite the task, I’ll have you know. It’s not every day I get to see such a magnificent soul.”

Hannibal had moved onto thoracolumbar fascia (lower back), slowly pressing and moving his hands up and down. He put more pressure into his grip, and Will tensed.

This was met by a disapproving, “Will.” He tried to relax again.

“How did the drawing turn out? I still don’t see the reason you had to tie me up. I’m sure it would have turned out the same if I weren’t…” Will mumbled sullenly under his breath.

Finished, Hannibal ran a finger up Will’s spine. Will shivered

“Jeeze! Don’t do that!” He yelped and flinched. Hannibal’s warm hand returned to his shoulder. He didn’t respond, but walked over to the table, picked up the sketchbook and brought it over to Will, but not before flipping to the beginning of the book.

“Hey!” Will tried to protest, but froze when he saw the illustration on the page. It was him lying in bed, surrounded by a puffy comforter, arm up and covering his face, his baggy shirt spread around him in a heap.

He flipped the page. This picture was him sitting at the dining room table, head resting on his hand, staring out the window. An empty plate and glass sat next to him. The pictures were so detailed that Will wondered how long they took Hannibal to draw.

The next picture was of Will reading a book on dogs. He was seated on the couch, the fireplace going. A serene smile was on his face, and he looked down fondly at the colorful pictures on the page.

Will remembered the book. As well as the horrible actions that took place the next. Hannibal had been watching… Drawing him for all this time? Without him knowing?

The next picture was of Will standing in the meadow by their cabin, flowers blooming all around him were sketched in immaculate detail with pastels. The greenery of the forest around him made the blue sky, filled with puffy clouds stand out. Will’s hands were in his pockets as he stood, admiring the nature that surrounded him.

It went on and on. Will taking a nap on the couch. Will untangling fishing wire. Will leaning on a tree in the forest… Will sitting out on the porch, a cup of coffee in hand.

Will walking on the beach. There were a lot of those pictures. The backgrounds varied, but all of them were painted beautifully, the crimson hues of the sunset fading into the dark purple of the sky… Wisps of clouds occasionally filled the sky.

“You… Followed me?” Will whispered. Hannibal gave a small smile, and nodded.

“Is that… How you knew when I would be getting back? How you knew when to make the food so it would stay warm?” A warmth filled Will’s chest.

“Yes.”

“But… Why? Why didn’t you just come with me?” Will asked, emotions flooded into him and he closed his eyes.

“For the last two months, the ghosts of your past have been following you, Will. You didn’t want to be in my company-” Hannibal shook his head as Will opened his mouth, “Do not deny it. I could see the hesitation in your eyes, those brief moments we were together. You had many things to sort out, and I was not going to interfere.”

Hannibal paused, eyes on Will’s face.

“However, I also felt a pang of longing in those long weeks. I enjoy your company, Will. If I couldn’t talk to you, drawing you was the next best thing.”

Will was silent for a moment. He ran his fingers gently down one of the beautiful paintings, observing the amount of detail in every brush stroke.

“I’ve been awful… These last few months…” Will’s voice cracked, as he remembered all the times Hannibal had allowed him to curse at him, hit him, blame him.

The calm reply.

“You have been healing.”

“That doesn’t excuse my behavior, though.” Will said quietly.

Hannibal let out a small sigh.

“I forgive you.” Those three words sounded simple, but held so much more meaning. When Hannibal had forgiven Will for betraying him… When Will had forgiven Hannibal for all the shit he’d been put through… When Hannibal had tried to cut Will’s head open… To now. Their path had been full of betrayals and forgiveness-es, yet this one rang louder than the rest. It echoed, it bounced off the walls of the cabin, it resonated through the room louder than any silence.

“… Thank you.”

Hannibal smiled.

“Now that you’ve seen my previous drawings of you, I believe now would be an appropriate time for you to assess the newest one.”

Will nodded and gently flipped the sketchbook to the newest page.

In charcoal, was a sketch of Will, lying on the couch. The ropes that encircled his body were drawn in delicate, fast strokes. They were startlingly dark against the pale shade of Will’s skin. The blindfold and gag remained on Will’s face, but there was a glow around his body that made him stop and stare.

The way Hannibal had drawn Will made it clear that Will was afraid. Even in the picture, he was straining against the ropes. A darkness surrounded his body and his taught muscles were prominently sketched in.

The light from the fireplace was illuminating him in the picture, flickering and shining, but this picture was… Different from the other ones. It had… Life.

Will stared down at it in awe. Hannibal observed his expression with a small smile.

“I can see it… My… Soul.”

“I hoped that you would, Will.”

Love. That is what Will was feeling. The sudden realization struck him like a train and his eyes flickered over to Hannibal’s expectant ones.

“It’s… Beautiful.” He whispered.

Hannibal smiled, leaning towards Will, fingers tangled into Will’s hair and pressed him forward. Will closed his eyes, but a soft ‘tsk’ made him open them. He met Hannibal’s eyes for a moment. A softness he had never seen before filled the dark irises. His own eyes widened for a split second, before he felt warm lips press against him. It wasn’t like kissing Alana, or Margo… Not frantic and hot. This kiss was gentle, yet passionate. It conveyed a thousand thoughts and feelings at the same time. How I’ve longed for this, Will. Stay with me. Will, you are mine. Will. Will. Will.

Will brought a hand up and grasped Hannibal’s dress shirt by the collar. He pulled Hannibal towards him, and pressed into the kiss. Yes, Hannibal. I will stay with you. I am yours. Hannibal. Hannibal. Hannibal.

After an eternity that lasted a second, they pulled away, the message conveyed.

Hannibal stroked Will’s hair with long, gentle fingers.

“Yes…” He murmured. “It is beautiful.”

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