Chapter 1: Lush and Quite Ludicrous
Chapter Text
Agent Jack Crawford sat opposite the table, his eyes trained on the feast before him.
“He kept his promise. As was expected from a gentleman of vice.” Bedelia Du Maurier said, with shallow calm.
Jack raised a brow, “You’re not at all fazed.”
“One is to expect as little or as much of a man as keenly resolute as Hannibal.” Bedelia replied breathily, “-And so, I expected as much.”
Jack glanced at the entree of an exquisitely seasoned, wrapped, and charred roll of meat. He then drew his gaze down to Bedelia’s left leg - or the lack thereof - and saw a prosthetic attachment in its place.
“I was looking forward to a nice dinner - and yet.” Jack furrowed his brow, “I think I’ve lost my appetite.”
Bedelia’s empty stare bore down upon the man before she placed down her fork and knife. “I’m more curious as to your current status on the whereabouts of your ‘Murder Husbands’. I see nothing but disquiet on your face - at the solemn mention.”
Jack set his arms down and sighed, “Ms. Du Maurier, there is so much we’re able to cover at the present moment. No bodies were found. We have no leads - as of yet.”
“They severed and ate my leg, as I dined alongside them in complimentary silence.” Bedelia retorted dryly, without a hint of distress. “I don’t believe I could mistake two infatuatedly murderous men as any other than Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter.”
Jack studied her face, “How- How did Will shift so quickly? Have you talked with him? Did he say anything?”
Bedelia almost chuckled, “Quickly? Quickly? Agent Crawford, Mr. Graham has been violently transforming since the very moment he met Dr. Lecter. Putting aside patient confidentiality - he called it to be his ‘Becoming’. For a very long time, he has been changing. You were just too blind to see anything of value.”
Jack did not appreciate the insulting attitude. He frowned slightly, “-And so, he committed to this life with Hannibal? Leaving behind his family?”
“This family of his was but a placeholder,” Bedelia concluded without hesitation. “I doubt his wife could break away his attachment and intimacy towards Hannibal. They were safe and stable. A part away from his true desires - the truth. Which, as you will find, have now been released in all hellish fervor.”
“Will is not that type of person, Ms. Du Maurier.” Jack enforced solemnly.
“ With you. And yet, the mutual obsession between Graham and Lecter proposes a different view of stability and wants. They are each other’s crutches. As much as they can live without each other - they equally cannot leave one another. Will seems himself whole with Hannibal, and as the final threshold - the faking of their death was the ‘Becoming’ he so proclaimed.” Bedelia trailed on, her eyes were restful yet bitter.
Jack clenched his jaw, “You’re saying - they are one?”
“With all the times they’ve greeted and sworn to one another in secrecy - all is left is to become one.” She batted her eyelashes slowly, as her leg cooled on the table.
“Joined at the hips - bloodletting and avowed, in quiet matrimony.”
Jack leaned back, “So if they did come back here - during a, say - two-week timeframe… Where do you believe they would have gone?”
Bedelia raised her glass of wine and took a drink, slow and meticulously. “Wherever Hannibal goes, Will follows suit. They would not - could not - return to Italy. They’d cloak themselves through unreachable countries. They’d settle themselves and live like gorged and flattered kings. I doubt, Agent Crawford, they will ever allow you to disturb their bloodthirsty peace.”
Jack laughed bitterly, “Seems to me they wish to shake off the BSHCI and its stale company.”
“They’d rather dine on finer company.”
He sighed, “How did they look when they came to see you?”
“Serene. Enamored. Will Graham is no longer the man you last saw, Agent Crawford. You will never lay eyes on that shell of his again. If you have the misfortune of facing him once more.” Bedelia explained and drained her glass. “Every move was calculated, unwavering. As if he saw the world in new shades. They mirrored Hannibal’s, with added sarcasm. I did not appreciate the sharp attitude. While his attention was grafted and disjointed. As if the only words that could reach him were Hannibal’s.”
Jack stood and paced the dining room in agitation. His coat whisked by in panicked flutters. “Jesus. This is my fault-”
“Yes, it is.”
“Thank you, Ms. Du Maurier.” Jack snapped.
“You’re too full of yourself, Agent Crawford. Your righteous insight of all matters obscures you from every fiber of veracity.” Bedelia said without a hint of shame, “How obvious must one man be to catch your attention? Hannibal the Cannibal? Even Dr. Chilton could vouch for a lack of creativity.”
Jack growled, “Ms. Du Maurier, I wish you wouldn’t continue to touch on such a sour subject like my incompetence. I’ve already dealt with enough crap about it.”
“It will not leave you, no matter how hard you try to legitimize yourself - Agent Crawford. You're stained.” Bedelia assured him without an ounce of reticence. She saw rage flicker across his face before settling on crude displeasure.
“I will not discredit any of this, Ms. Du Mauier. I guess when shit hit the fan - I was the shit .”
“You and everyone else. And yet, Mr. Graham was the only one to piece back together with gold joinery, all by Hannibal’s hands.” She commented without a single glance toward Jack.
Jack could not hold out, “My responsibility was crushed beneath my boot. And I won’t plead any case except the fact that he saved lives. But, was it any more my fault than it was Hannibal’s?”
“In Hannibal’s eyes, you were the sole perpetrator, while he might as well have been Will’s savior. A protector, possessor, and Will to be his muse.” Bedelia replied thinly, “To him, you were a leech - bulbous and bloated. Suckling on Will as you deemed appropriate. He, in turn, popped you; the mucus of your work bursting violently, as it had been slowly secreting for years beforehand.” Bedelia turned her head to the side, and let Jack seeth into his bones.
He straightened his coat and coughed, “Are those Hannibal’s thoughts, or yours? ”
“Does it exactly matter - if it’s true?”
“According to you, no.”
“And according to me, you’ll lose sight of Graham and Lecter if you continue to dawdle.” Bedelia crooned, “They might as well have already left the country.”
Jack flicked his eyes down, “Dammit. If they get a handle on a country with no Extradition Treaty - then the FBI is rutted. We’d be suspended without-” He slammed his fist into the table. It jolted, and Bedelia scowled very minutely.
“They would not be thoughtless in considering their escape. With Hannibal’s influence and money? Agent Crawford, every perception you have will cease to exist. Your goals, doused and beaten.” She raised her chin in emphasis.
“Struggle all you might - Hannibal will not allow you to ever fall into the vicinity of himself and Will. This, he swears.”
Jack stood frozen for a long while. His chest rose and fell in heaves, perpetuated by his head.Jack straightened once more and skidded his chair back under the table. “One thing I know for certain - is this: I’m one stubborn ass.” He turned to leave. “I cannot simply let the two of them continue their murderous honeymoon. They will either be behind bars or six feet under. I wish there was another way.”
Without another word uttered, Special Agent Crawford left Bedelia to her wake.
She took a single bite of meat and dabbed the corner of her mouth with a napkin.
“And the bull sees red.”
Five minutes later, Bedelia gagged and regurgitated her dinner.
Did regret what she had done?
Yes.
But it made her feel closer to touching the veil she had once crossed.
Closer to him.
~Shrouded in The Bleak Dark~
‘We could disappear now. Tonight, feed your dogs… Leave a note for Alana, and never see her or Jack again. Almost polite.’
If I had taken that hand. If I had gone without derision. Without doubt.
‘This is all I ever wanted for you, Will. For both of us.’
It’s beautiful.
~~~
Is Hannibal in love with me?
~~~
The world turned like an hourglass - yet time was no longer present. It walked out the door and left them suspended in the bleak roiling shadows. An embrace closed in around his body - as a whispering caress evolved into a passionate dance. The mirror shattered, and no longer was it himself he saw in the shards. It was one soul, resounded in two bodies. The cloak of water battered against that one soul, and yet nothing could part them. He gasped in a lung full of brine. His eyes burned, organs begging for mercy.
‘Hannibal.’ He mouthed, and the water rushed in.
He heard in his heart, a gentle response. ‘I am here, Will.’
It could no longer be a nightmare. This was different. It had changed.
What once was him, was washed away by the current.
He took himself deep into that embrace and was consumed in its entirety. Beautiful. It was more than anything, a dream. But reality collapsed down upon him, in a spiral of pain and euphoria. If this was freedom - he was drowned in it. And in the wake, cool, bitter air ran razors through his raw throat. He let out a cry of rebirth and met the blinding starlight with a smile. In the whorl of ever-changing waves, in his arms, was the man he was sworn to. Blood and bone. Bound, broken, and reborn. Stitched into a chaotic yet glorious tapestry. He dug his fingers into the man’s back, and tears streamed down his face. Pure rapture - no words could describe. His gaze followed his soulmate’s. They were in absolute bliss, despite toiling in the depths. No. Because they were wading in the endless depths.
And they kissed. As they consumed each other hours before. And they fell so hard, the cliffs did not meet their descent. They kissed and they confessed those hidden, beastly desires in the shroud of darkness. Strange and ghastly, stunningly exalted. To which they found themselves swimming. Hand in hand, they would never return to themselves again. There was much more awaiting them, beyond the precipice of mania.
They had found themselves in one another, and anywhere else would not belong to them.
‘Love.’
‘For to be fated in the dead of night.’
~~~
Tivat Airport,
Tivat, Montenegro
~~~
Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter stepped out into the mild dampness of early spring. The sky was dappled with clouds strewn across a painted blue scape. Will inhaled the piquant scent of newly arrived tourists and the flush of young buds. However, it was overcome by the rich musk of his companion. He cast a look at Hannibal, who stood grounded with refined and appropriate fashion. He wore a classic Garrison Bespoke in deep navy, a vest and undershirt, a striped gray, and matching pants. A maroon pocket square accented the entire outfit. 'Sharp' would be an understatement for his dress. Unless under certain circumstances, Hannibal Lecter would dress to his formal best.
And that is one reason Will could not look away.
The other?
The still welted gashes and shadows of bruises remained upon Hannibal’s face. Will’s jaw still throbbed numbly, a reminder of their last fight. The two of them people watched in silence for a long while before allowing themselves to take a step forward to catch their driver. A slick-onyx Mercedes-Benz was parked right in front of them. Fitting into a slot with other luxuries. The two of them grabbed the rest of their luggage and strode over to their ride.
The tinted window rolled down to show a familiar face. One to which Will was unfortunately pleasantly surprised.
“Welcome to your haven. I hope you know Serbian, Will?” Chiyoh inquired and unlocked the car.
Hannibal chuckled lightly and opened the door for Will, as a gentleman would. The man even placed a hand above Will’s head as he slipped in with his briefcase.
The audacity!
Will sighed before Hannibal shut the door. He placed the rest of their luggage into the trunk before situating himself in the passenger’s seat.
“I won’t say I’m fluent,” Will admitted, disgruntled. Realized now he’d really have to focus on learning it.
But then again.
They had time.
And shitloads of money.
The car purred and rumbled to life before Chiyoh started from the airport. Will settled himself to the car window and as the airport fell away - not long did it take for a beautiful horizon to meet the Adriatic, and so did the tangy sting of the sea. Spring blooms rushed by with the newness of brightening green. Tousled in the landscape, it prepared to explode into vibrancy nearing the later season.
Will mumbled sleepily, “How long till we arrive?”
“Only fifteen or so minutes.” Hannibal’s tranquil response eased any lingering stress.
“Hannibal, I would suggest keeping a low profile for a time. Before going back to your exotic tastes.” Chiyoh advised cooly, “Get yourself and Will settled, and return to your hunts.”
Hannibal lowered his eyelids, “I’ve considered it. Stirring up any suspicions may as well be a shield to the freedoms we now have.” He glanced back at Will’s slumbering form. His eyes melted. “-As long as we’re comfortable, we shall disappear from the very fabric of reality. And return, in time.”
Chiyoh seemed content with this answer, and so, bade quiet.
~~~
Approx. 14 minutes Later
~~~
Will’s eyelids wretched his eyes open, the light blinding. From the haze, he saw the stunning gulf of Kotor. The water shone with tantalizing jewels, an allure so unshaken - it spoke in murmurs of untamed joys. The car turned onto the Jadranska magistrala for a time.
“Dobrota is home to Montenegro's psychiatric hospital,” Chiyoh mentioned as they eased their way down the M11.
Hannibal nodded, “It is.” He did not venture into the subject further.
“Are you going to take back up your practice?”
“It seems interest has waned. I now reside on the other side of my profession.” He replied and tapped his finger on the dashboard absently.
“Well, then what is it you wish to do?”
Hannibal pondered a moment, “Local musician, perhaps? Gardener?”
“You’ll live well enough on your psychiatric papers. I almost see you as a gardener.”
Hannibal smiled deftly, “As long as Will can fish to his heart’s content. It shall be fine.”
Will quivered.
He was not used to such words, clear and forthright. and at once his eyes enlarged. All that there was was the very blue of the gulf. Will knew it met the Adriatic - not far from where they drove. It was beyond words. A breathtaking feat of nature - which in many ways - bled into his heart like a white slate masking charcoal.
In a short time, Hannibal tapped Will on the shoulder and motioned to their arrival. They had arrived at the hub of Kotor. It was a picturesque old town, filled with the canvas of rich culture and serenity. Chiyoh slowed as they entered the town near the coast. It was beautiful and lively, with all the characteristics of a quaint lifestyle. As Hannibal had designed, it was close enough to other settlements and Tivat for ease of travel. This meant a quiet life, perfect for a pair on the run.
Who knew how long and hard Jack would search for them? And if he’d ever stop. Will, in truth, did not care anymore. He was long tired of the constant puppeteering, and so, his world seemed clean at last. Not of blood, but of nagging bosses. The car bumped down a narrower road that led towards the farther foothills of Kotor - and alongside Dobrota. There, they would stay, as was meant to be. After a minute, the car came to a halt and Will looked out to an intricate wrought-iron gate. The road had turned to gravel, and onward past the gate was lush forest and overarching branches. Hannibal stepped out and walked up to the gates. He examined them for a moment before inserting a bronzed key into the rather large lock. It clicked and fell hung loosely against the hoops of the gate. The gate roared open, and Hannibal, pleased, returned to the car. Chiyoh started again through the gate and into the tunnel of branches.
The fragrant smell of wildflowers, hushed in dew, filled the air and pooled the car with bursts of life. How pleasant it was to have the window opened - and Will appreciated the change. As they traveled down the gravel road, Will let his head rest halfway out the window, taking in the blur of early-spring colors and the fervent busyness of the native wildlife. From the many open slits in the canopy of branches above, streams of light flickered against his face. It fell in pockets upon the earth - revitalizing and perfectly serendipitous.
The road winded through the forest until they were met by a small fountain - propped outside their new home. Will raised his brows in surprise, “A cottage?”
Hannibal opened the passenger door and got out, while Will followed behind.
“Yes. A cottage Fit for a small family.” Hannibal smirked, and all three of them started unloading the truck.
The cottage was as classically European as one would expect. With sidings of cobblestone, windows furled with plantlife, shingled roofing with small spires, and a lantern-accented doorway - embedded under a flora-dense trellis. The cottage seemed - at second glance - to be quite large, with beautiful earthy greens taking up the rest of the house’s exterior paint. Under each window hung boxes of flowers, while copper pots scattered the yard - blooming with more color. The fountain, which they stood next to, was small but pretty. It gurgled as water spewed out of a stag’s mouth, agape. It was situated in a rearing position, as it brayed, the water streamed down into the top and botton pools. Will was first caught off guard but quickly focused on his task at hand.
The cottage was stunning in every way. It was almost ethereal in its charm - put simply. Hannibal pointed to a small pathway leading back into the treeline, where it arched past the house and into a little dell.
Will brought their luggage in and placed it to the side. Chiyoh began scoping out the cottage to find the best spots for orderliness.
“Was not expecting this for my retirement,” Will admitted as Hannibal moved to his flank. He lowered his head and let his cheek rest on Will's.
“And I doubt you expected it’d be with me. ” He murmured, a hand on his shoulder.
Will scoffed, “Not in the slightest. But - I guess it all worked out. Didn’t it?” He affectionately leaned his head against Hannibal’s before making his way through the rooms of the cottage.
It was cozy, extremely cozy. Of course, however cozy it may be, Hannibal’s genteel flair was evident at every angle. With dashes of dark colors or obscure pieces of decor - it complimented and wildly clashed with the softer aesthetics. Passing the living room full of rugs, knickknacks, and hanging herbs, was a work den. To Will’s joy, it was a tackle room. There was a bench full of fishing-tackle gear that mirrored Will’s original workplace. Lines hung from the ceiling, and charcoal sketches of dogs filled the walls. The bench itself - Will realized - faced a large window. It looked out onto a decently sized river, crossed by an oak bridge.
“You-” Will turned to see Hannibal leaning at the door frame.
Hannibal smiled softly, “I thought you’d enjoy some peace and quiet, so familiar to that in your head.”
Will sighed, “Real. It’s been too long. Whenever-whenever I thought about fishing… All I could see were corpses, floating downstream.”
“This one - I promise - won’t.” Hannibal ensured with a gleam in his eye.
~~~
The rest of the time, they traversed the cottage and its grounds. The kitchen was the spitting image of Hannibal’s - except downsized. It could as well have been the majority of the cottage. A massive herb wall stood at the back end, with a bookcase full of recipes, cans, wine, glasses, and bottles - to the side. In actuality, the bookcase was but a gatekeeper leading to the cellar just behind it. To which they would store, preserve, and butcher meat and other cooled produce.
Will immediately found that - IN FACT - there was only one master bedroom in the cottage. (The other one was a guest, and already filled to the brim for storage. This, of course, was entirely accidental.)
The bedroom was sleek, but still retained its image of cozy. There was a small divide from the bedroom to the office and library. (Which could be closed off, and entered through a separate door). Two leather chairs were situated at the snug library corner, with a pine wine serving tray placed at the middling birch table. Hannibal made sure there was a cheeseboard within direct access to the tray.
Moving onward, Hannibal’s office was set in the back, with more bookshelves taking up the wall. The desk was exactly like what he had in his office in Baltimore. Rugs padded the ground throughout - making the rooms more comfortable. Will strode by the desk and noticed a particular stag statue standing proud on a podium. He grazed it and felt the ridges thoroughly under his touch. Hannibal watched, silent and enchanted.
“How did you even have time to bring the statue?” Will asked with an inquisitive look. Of all things.
Chiyoh raised a hand, “He told me to go back and get it.”
She wasn’t there earlier, right?
“Priorities,” Hannibal whisked his hand to the side. “A centerpiece, in its own right, you could say.”
“Apparently,” Will shrugged his shoulders before finishing the tour with a visit to the river in their backyard.
~~~
“Otherworldly, is it not?” Hannibal noted, shoulder-to-shoulder with his lover.
Will watched the clear water gurgle by, his head suddenly clarified in stillness.
“You could say. It-It takes you away, almost like a trance. The simplicity of the art.” He thought aloud, his heart content. Everything was composed within his mind-space, nothing tumbled or ripped. It fed into the water as though he was a droplet of many - rising and falling to the level of the current. In this daze, a body pressed to his back, and two arms wrapped lovingly around him. It was tender and desired. A blanket of sorts, to keep him safe. Secure in his bliss. Lips pecked his neck, and Hannibal settled his chin to Will’s shoulder.
They remained this way. Finally resting in a palace of their own making. A charming, and rather bizarre palace. With many wrong turns and strange peculiarities. But a palace of theirs, all the same. To call home, even in the tidings of chaos. The air smelt of honey and crushed roses. If this was heaven, they did not know. But they knew better than to say that this wasn’t one marvelous hell. However, there was one thing missing, and Will was thus shooketh.
“Dogs.”
‘Oh…’ Hannibal Lecter was not ready.
Chapter 2: Beneath the Skin, Behind the Eyes
Summary:
Enjoy. <3
Chapter Text
~~~
One Month Later
~~~
‘I’ll be back with dinner. Don’t forget our kit will arrive today.’
Will sat down in a plush leather chair, which overlooked a terrace - and the cityscape of Podgorica. The living room was irrationally gorged in taxidermy, with no feat of modesty. It was neither pleasant to sit in nor carefully crafted to its theme. How drab, Will thought and kept his eyes pinned to the massive windows. He glanced down at the card between his fingers.
Arso Dilas: Self-made novelist, Businessman, and Podgorica Charity Foundation CEO.
Will clenched the card beneath his fingers and shoved it deep into a coat pocket. The tock of a grandfather clock, intricate and disdainful, beat against his skull. Five whole minutes passed until the man himself strolled in, his eyes sparkling.
“Ah ah! Mr. Graham, I do ap-logi ze for the wait. I didn't mean to take so much of your precious time. “ The businessman cried, his broken English stuttering through his bleached teeth.
Will looked him up and down. He wore a tacky yet overly expensive suit of blinding red and shoes too long-toed for any decent man. The shoulders of his suit were far too wide, and his pants too long, which added to the overall hilarity. His raven hair was slicked back with grease, as was the gruffness of a newly shaved beard. He looked almost like a disheveled bird growing its first tufts of fur-like feathers. Under waggling bushy eyebrows, the man’s hazel eyes crooned with arrogance. Will was already at his limit for the day.
“It’s not a bother, Mr. Dilas, I’m glad we were finally able to talk,” Will said with gritted kindness.
Dilas fluttered around to take a seat opposite Will. Wonderful . His view was obstructed by a twig in a zoot suit.
“As you notified me previously… Do you want to donate to the Foundation? Yes?” Dilas inquired with too much excitement and too little sincerity.
Will brushed off the growing anger, “That is what I came here to talk about. The specifics.”
“Specifics? What… Would those be? I found it quite strange when you came calling. From Mr. Lecter’s cell, to be precise. Why would you not fill out the form online?” Dilas questioned lightly, and Will refrained from a mock smile.
“To ensure credibility, Mr. Dilas. I thought it’d be better. My husband suggested it.”
Dilas paused, and his brows furrowed a moment. “Ah, I see. Well, what would you like to know?”
“Does the money go directly to the in-need?”
“Yes.”
“Are there any strings attached?”
“No.”
“Do you see to it all yourself?”
“-...Yes.”
“Do you know all of your highest donors?”
“Yes…”
“Do you know - say - Kokolja?”
Tick-tock tick-tock.
Dilas’s eyes flicked to the side. “Haha. The painter, no?”
“Mr. Dilas, do not play coy. I am hardly in the mood.” He placed a hand on his forehead. “Velisav Kokolja.”
Dilas sat straighter, his heart audibly pounding. Will could sense the blood rushing to his ears as they pinned back against his head.
“H-how do you know that man?” He stammered.
Will lowered his eyelids, “I know you’ve held multiple slush funds under the support of Kokolja. A majority of the money, I suspect, is reported by you under the guise of a charity.”
Mr. Dilas was half off his chair. He rose in panic.
“ Sit. Down.”
Dilas did so obediently - sweat drenched his neck. Will tapped his finger against the armrest.
“I wonder what you do with that money. Rumors say you’ve been bribing fathers into giving up their young girls. Others say there are gambling dens all across Podgorica, dressed with lavish women bound in servitude.”
Dilas’s body was visibly shaking. Will saw the fear in his eyes, and smiled sedately.
“Rumors, of course. Falsities, and nothing else. Kokolja has always tried to run me into the ground. Of course, he’d try to stain me with such awful things!”
Will leaned forward, “ And I wonder what you think of at night. ” He rolled his eyes up, “Those to help? Or those to bed?”
Will’s eyes flashed with savagery as he lunged forward and removed the space between them in the blink of an eye. His hands reached the man’s neck as Dilas began to scream like a mangy and abused dog. No, not a dog, a rat. He shrieked and swore until Will finally smothered him with one hand. The chair flipped over, and Will rammed his knee into Dilas’s groin. He winced and shuddered in response, convulsing underneath Will’s grip. Will struck him in the jugular before carefully planting his entire body on his chest. Dilas was quickly fading, his limbs slowing like plastered and dried pasta. He was near unconsciousness. Out of pure desire, Wll planted both thumbs at either eye. Dilas flailed more and more. Desperate to grab anything. Surprisingly, he was able to snatch a fallen wood statue of a philosopher bust and weakly bring it up to Will’s head. It crashed down once and scraped his brow. That was all.
Will dug firmly - and all at once into Dilas’s eyeballs. Popping them violently from the socket with a squelchy ooze. Blood splattered across his face and coated his hands. He did not mind.
Instead of leaving the man be, Will grunted before taking Dilas’s head in both hands. In one smooth movement, he snapped his neck, letting it thump to the floor. Will stood, panting.
“Your eyes gave away everything .”
He glanced around and moved Dilas’s body to the side. He cleaned up all he could, wiped himself down, changed shirts, scrubbed his face with a towel, and finished his meeting. Will then took out a massive sack, perfect for potatoes, and carefully dragged Dilas into it. He closed the top off and lugged it over his shoulder. Suspicious but not at all impossible to brush off.
~~~
Will glanced up at his rearview mirror to see his passenger stuffed securely in the back. He sighed and took a turn through Podgorica. Out of the corner of his eye, he suddenly spotted a dog clinging to a brick wall on the sidewalk. Will discreetly pulled over on the side of the road and snatched his rather large bag of dog supplies.
He was never unprepared for dogs.
Will opened up the door slowly and stepped out. The dog, he noticed on closer inspection, was a muddy and unkempt stray Finnish Lapphund.
His voice softened as he brought out a handful of treats. “Hello there, little-”
He leaned down, “-Boy.”
The Lapphund whined, his fur tangled and eyes weeping. Will beckoned him, “C’mere, little guy. Want some treats?”
The Lapphund sniffed once and hopped away. Will kept still as cars passed and screeched out of sight. He knelt and his eyes followed the Lapphund, waiting for the appropriate moment. He tossed some treats farther away from him, and the Lapphund whipped his head to the side.
Will whistled, “Hey, hey, it’s alright.” The Lapphund very cautiously began to approach his hand. Will urged him with a purr deep in his chest. Finally, the Lapphund was at his hand, making quick work of the treats. Will gently slid a leash around his neck and secured it carefully.
“Much better. Right then. Home?” He inquired as the Lapphund quirked its head. It sniffed and bit at the collar, before running about in circles.
Will patted the dog on the back, “Calm down, calm down. Why don’t we get back in the car?” He opened up the trunk, where an empty (yet fully catered) crate sat.
Will helped the Lapphund up and in before closing the trunk. He began to bark and yip viciously but soon settled once he realized he was warm and safe. He returned to the driver’s seat with a content - if not weary - smile. He returned to the road, heading out of Podgorica.
“Hmm. What should your name be, sir?” Will glanced up at the mirror, “Hey, don’t do that. Stop sniffing the sack.” He scolded, “You wouldn’t like that filth.”
Will clicked his tongue, “Hyde. Hyde works. Yeah, how do you like it?”
‘Hyde’ grumbled a retort. Or agreement?
“I’ll take that as an appreciative reply.” Will said, “It fits you, Hyde.”
Hyde yipped in return, before going quiet to take a long and studious nap.
~~~
Hannibal was in the front garden, trimming herbs when Will returned. He turned to see his husband exit the car with a new coat of fur on him.
“Will, good you’re back. But - it seems you’ve brought company.” He stood, clippers in hand.
Will snorted, “What are you wearing, Hannibal? You’re certainly fitting into this whole ‘domestic’ lifestyle.” He motioned to the beige apron - patterned with daffodils and roses, that he modeled.
Hannibal raised his eyes slightly, “It was the only one I could find in a short time.”
Will shrugged and strode to the back to unload. “You have work to do. I brought home dinner. And more.” He lugged the heavy sack over his shoulder - and immediately Hannibal beamed.
“Ah, Will. Did it feel nice?”
He rolled his eyes, “The man was a pig. What else but to be butchered?”
Hannibal grew ecstatic as he dropped his clippers to help carry the load. He was about to take the sack in when Will called out from behind him.
“Oh, and I found a dog.”
Hannibal froze, he turned his head shakily.
“Will, by found a dog-”
“I Adopted.”
“ Adopted.”
“Yes, obviously. ”
Hannibal deflated, “No say in this?’
“None whatsoever.”
“Very well. I shall bid farewell to our clean furniture.” He started to head into the cottage.
“-And clothes,” Will added.
“-And clothes.” Hannibal raised a brow, “What-what about the bed?”
Will shook his head, “Good luck.”
Hannibal left hurriedly, with a stagger in his step.
~~~
One Day Later
~~~
While Hannibal finished storing away a Mr. Dilas, Will was finally given grief-stricken permission to dog-ify the cottage. Hyde was all the more excited as he spun around in whirlwinds with a stuffed deer between his canines. While chaos ensued, Will lounged on their classy leather couch, studying fly-fishing rod diagrams with a trained eye. He was zoned out entirely and had not noticed Hannibal walking in to take his place by his side.
He noticed Will’s concentration and simply took up a book of Italian poetry. Will absently slanted his head against Hannibal’s shoulder, and in turn, Hannibal eased back to provide better support.
“I love you, Will,” Hannibal murmured with a startling; yet profound tenderness.
Will broke his gaze, shocked by his frankness, “I love you too, Hannibal.” And these words echoed with affection and clarity. It was no longer a game, it was simply life. They clasped hands and returned to their activities. Basked in companionship and serenity.
~~~
Later that evening, after a pleasant dinner of filet mignon with a pesto drizzle, they settled in. Will organized his draws while fending off Hyde - who decided on being directly in his way of everything. Hannibal sat at his desk in the adjacent office and scanned through his iPad, a curious gleam in his eye. Will strode in with Hyde at his heels and took a seat at the corner library. He crossed his legs and leaned back, “What’s got you so vexed?”
Hannibal squared himself, “Our dear friend, Ms. Lounds, is at it again.”
“Big fan of TattleCrime, even now?” Will raised a brow.
“Not as much a fan as a passing viewer.” He replied and laid down the tablet, “She occasionally still writes about us.”
Will huffed, “ Now who’s the fan?”
“As much as she rattles you, she certainly has the utmost confidence in your abilities. Whether being dead or alive hinders the masses.” Hannibal noted and his eyes traveled down Will’s mellow stature. He hovered on the contours of his jaw and smiled.
“Freddie Lounds will spur them until our case dries up. It won’t last forever. We’re old news.” He commented and took a sip of chianti he had poured himself.
Hannibal rose and moved aside a pile of sketches he had recently finished. A majority of them were classic pieces from varying eras - many with resemblances to Will. He moved about the desk, “Do you believe Jack will surely drop the reins?”
“And leave his broken teacup to his own devices?” Will chuckled, “Not at all. Bedelia has made short of our silence, as have we. He will hound us till his blood runs dry.” He watched Hannibal sedately and took another drain of his wine.
“As much as Jack regrets his abuse, he believes he’s doing the best by trying to hunt us down. “ Will admitted coldly.
“He will not find us, Will. There is no point in him attempting such a feat.” Hannibal assured.
Will furrowed his eyebrows, “Quite intrepid with that statement, Hannibal.”
“For good reason, my dear.” He sauntered forward as Will set down his glass.
Hannibal leaned down deftly, and Will placed a thumb to his chin. “You’re being needy.”
Hannibal pecked him on the lips, “I cannot fathom why you think such a thing.” He ran a hand through his hair and with the other - gripped his waist. Will laughed as Hannibal dug into his neck. They tossed and tumbled back onto the floor, and Hannibal lay atop his husband. Will dragged him down, and they nuzzled for a long while. As the stars withered to dark and the clouds blanketed the sky in gray - the lovers consumed one another in breath and bone. Under the cloak of night, Hannibal and Will roused the beasts and found solace in their ravenous peace.
Hyde on the other hand, was none too happy about the arrangement. He whined at the door.
‘Quiettttt.’ A muffled cry came from the bedroom. Hyde huffed and left to ponder on the very complicated nature of squirrels.
~~~
“Jesus-” Will blinked his eyes open before scrambling back under the covers. Last night they had forgotten to close the curtains entirely. Radiant sunbeams pooled through the windows - right onto Will’s side of the bed. Hannibal groaned, “It is under the blinding light to which we find our relief in the effervescent enigma of nightfall. Where the silence overtakes mind and body, yet alleviates the”
“-Hannibal. It is seven in the morning. ” Will narrowed his eyes, “ Remember what I said?”
“No spontaneous philosophical declarations until midafternoon.”
“Exactly. Now, shush.”
Will was still under the covers but shimmied over to wrap himself around Hannibal. Hannibal slowly uncovered his chest and there was Will the Leech, head pressed against his chest. He winced. “Not appreciated.”
“Will, the farmers market will be gone by the time you get up,” Hannibal stated and caressed his lover’s cheek.
Will barked, “I don’t see you moving!”
“You’re on me, my dear.”
Will sighed and lifted himself off of Hannibal without another complaint. Hannibal stretched and slipped out of bed, still completely naked. He half-dressed himself before disappearing into their closet. Which - for some reason - was nearly as large as their bedroom. Will rubbed his face before heaving upward, tight and sore. He dressed and opened up their bedroom door, where Hyde indignantly strutted in. “Are you offended?”
The dog woofed in response.
“I see. I’ll think about that.” Will made his way to the kitchen and grabbed a piece of whole-grain bread. He stuffed it into his mouth and poured some well water into a watering can. Finally, he slipped on his shoes and opened up the front door, where Hyde barreled out ecstatically.
Will glanced at Hyde a moment before carefully watering the flower beds in their front yard. He made rounds to the copper pots and window boxes before placing the watering can to the side. He choked, “Ughh. Should’ve gotten some water.”
After a bit, he whistled for Hyde - and the Lapphund came barreling back into the cottage. Hannibal was already in the kitchen prepping breakfast for the two of them.
“Hope it's better than a slice of bread,” Will commented and chugged down a glass of water.
Hannibal laughed, “Will, your stubbornness has gotten the better of you.”
Will raised a brow, “What? Because I couldn’t wait for you to feed me?”
“Precisely.”
“I’m not a child, Hannibal. And don’t even say-”
“I said nothing, Will. You’re the one accusing me of humiliating you .” Hannibal cast a side glance at his husband.
Will scratched the back of his neck and sat down. “I’m nearly positive you constantly humiliate me with your refined philosophical conjectures.”
“Are they definitively conjectures if it is to the undertone of disrespect?”
“Only if your words come off as too gaudy.” Will retorted.
Hannibal scrambled their eggs intently, “I would call that dignified. Gaudy implies egotism.”
“I don’t know, Hannibal. You’re pretty good with your vanity.” Will grumbled.
Hannibal smirked faintly, “Only when you're around to enjoy it.”
Will snorted, “Oh, thank you. Not as though I’d like a bit less of a flaunting peacock at my side.”
“What fun would that be, my dear?” Hannibal inquired, finishing chopping some vegetables. He tossed everything together for a rather delicious-looking omelet and sausage bowl.
Will paused, “Huh. Quite reminiscent.”
“Indeed.” Hannibal agreed and sat down beside Will.
“When should we head out for the market?” Will asked staidly, digging into his omelet.
Hannibal pondered for a moment, “An hour would do.”
“Sure, and then you’ll pay your end of the bargain?” He nudged his husband firmly.
Hannibal nodded, “Yes, I shall, Will.”
~~~
Bedelia did not enjoy the hammering of Jack’s mouth and the beating of waves swarming her head. She did not find it calming nor had any desire to continue ‘pretending’ to listen.
“Are you quite sure this isn’t wasting effort?” She asked severely, as was her usual disposition towards all human beings.
Jack paused, hands on his hips. He barked at an agent who was too slow at moving around the cliff face. “Ms. Du Maurier - I will say this now. All we have is your testimony and the uh- lack of a leg - as evidence of their survival. But no hard facts. You might as well have chewed off your own leg.”
She glowered.
He put a hand up, “Your track record is, to put it kindly, a bit fucked up.”
Bedelia stood just before the cliff as waves roared and plummeted down upon the rocks piercing tips. It reminded her of a wolf’s snapping jaws, always stalking, always bound to devour.
“It shall be in vain, Agent Crawford.” She said dryly and pursed her lips. “All you’re doing is attempting to gloss over rotting shame with careless attempts at reconvening with your crippled show pony.”
Jack growled, “Are you trying to degrade my work?” He groaned, “And me?”
“Thinking only of yourself is a simple pleasure, is it not - Agent Crawford?”
“You would know, Ms. Du Maurier.” He shot back. “Tell me. If I do end up discovering their whereabouts. What will I find?”
Bedelia strayed away from the cliff, away from the scene of their rebirth. “A stallion and his master. Two artists living in the collective mind of one. Lovers and visionaries. Killers of the most refined tastes.”
He shuddered, “Why in god’s name do I believe you? And yet, I don’t doubt it. I can’t. ”
“You must realize in the thick gloom and splintered depths of water - the profiler you know is dead. Long ripped apart at the seams, transformed - molded by Hannibal. I shall keep telling you - he is not there.” Bedelia pushed irritably.
Jack gripped his head in his head, “Dammit! I’m not leaving Will. I can’t.”
“What will you do if you find them?”
Jack blinked away, “I’ll drag them back. To face - face their fates.”
“Their fates are entwined. As has been the case since the very beginning. When one falls, the other follows.” Bedelia breathed - her eyes bitter pools of contempt.
Jack faltered, “Meaning if one goes down, the other will break. Fantastic.”
Bedelia tilted her head, “You must decide in one’s conscience - what you truly wish to do with your stray pony. I suggest dropping the reins and stepping away. Anything else would send you throttling down that cliff.”
The air was pungent and crisp with salt. Water sprayed in thin veils, like wispy rainfall - all across the yard. A good man was lost to the rocks, but his voice beckoned the winds. Jack Crawford knew many things. But in his eyes, the world was draped in a dusky haze, too dense to part. Much of which turned to regret. Shame.
His regret overpowered him on any good day - but never had it been as destructive as on those bad days. He wanted to ram Hannibal Lecter’s skull into the ground and slowly break all of his bones. Every single one. But at the same time, he wished to toss him away and never look at him again. It was a back-and-forth play in his head. Ever-aching, ever-loud.
Jack eyed the roiling depths, his body still and controlled. “We’ve already been thrust off it, Bedelia . There’s nowhere else to go, but down.”
Chapter Text
Six men dawned in pearlescent white robes watched the market from a tower’s landing.
“That bastard is dead.” The head man said in broken English, “And my name rotted his mouth. Pah!”
One of the robed henchmen shuffled forward. He smiled crookedly, “Sir, you expected the vermin to be dead within the month. And say - it came true.”
The head barked, “And yet, not by my hand. It is no good now.” He rammed his fist to his chest, and vice shred deep into his eyes.
The leader gazed out upon the old town in all its merriment. The day was young and balmy, sweet with the gulf’s briny spray. “Miro, no body was found. They simply tell us he got up and left. That pompous fool.”
“Sir, you do not believe anything like this?” Miro, with his crooked smile, inquired.
Another figure stepped forward, instead adorned in jeans and a pilot’s jacket.
“Mr. Kokolja knows better than to doubt Dilas’s sliminess. He’s too crafty to simply slip away and leave his debauchery behind.”
“You say this with confidence, Vincent. What does it matter to you?” Kokolja asked, curious as to his appearance suddenly.
Vincent smirked, “I have beef with the killer.”
Kokolja cocked his head, “You know who it is?”
“I have my assumptions.” He shrugged vaguely, “And a majority of the time they’re right.”
Velisav Kokolja frowned, “You will not tell me. I see.” His hands balled into fists, slowly going white.
“No. I shouldn’t give you the benefit. It’s undeserved, Mr. Kokolja.” Vincent replied dryly, casting his deep russet brown eyes across the town.
Kokolja growled, “I could simply rip the name from your lips.”
“Oh, but all I have is an assumption. Are you going to bet my endless usefulness on that?” Vincent drawled with a crude grin.
Kokolja paced back and forth the small tower landing. Vincent shifted aside.
“You brought us here, for what? You do not tell us who this killer is.”
Vincent brought a hand up apologetically, “Sorry, sorry.” His voice turned icy, “But - you’re here because I’ve allowed you to be here. You’ll get your chance to gather up the loose ends of your crumbling underbelly. But not before I finish what I came here to do.”
Kokolja casually desired to break the man’s jaw, but he refrained. His face contorted into a tortured smile, accompanied by a complacent tone of voice. “ Certainly , we are partners of good business, no?”
“Till the deal is done. Afterward, I promise nothing. This shall benefit both of us, Mr. Kokolja - but only if you cooperate accordingly.” Vincent pressured softly, his eyes narrowed. He took a step forward and firmly grasped the larger man’s shoulder. “Do we have an understanding?”
Kokolja tensed in fuming rage, “ As insignificant as it means to.”
“I’ll take that as a tentative yes.”
Vincent laughed shortly before waving his hand aside. “Well now - I should be going. Much to do, too little time to do.” He turned once more, “Also, it might be better to not constantly be surrounded by suspiciously robed men. It’s quite…. Unsettling.”
“Mind your own business.” Kokolja snarled as Vincent skipped away.
One of Kokolja’s men opened his mouth - but was swiftly rushed.
Velisav Kokolja slammed the henchman’s head into baked stone, his eyes aflame. The robed man screamed and collapsed, blood spilling like oil upon the ground. The five remaining robed men dare not flinch.
Vincent chuckled, his voice echoing from the stairwell. “Be careful Mr. Kokolja, you might find yourself feasting on familiar company.”
~~~
Will sat down at a quaint cafe, located in the very heart of Kotor’s old town. Hannibal stood talking to a vendor in a small circle of stalls. A passing breeze tingled his neck, a cool pleasantry to the rather warm day.
Hannibal chuckled in response to the vendor’s exclamation, which was exchanged in Serbian. His husband returned to their table with a paper bag stuffed with jams, jellies, crackers, and cheeses of countless varieties.
“Platter for dinner tonight?” Will asked and took a sip of his smooth and delicately roasted coffee.
Hannibal slid his chair in, “Would you prefer something else, Will?”
“No, no. It sounds fine. Anyway, I had no ideas for food to begin with.” Will resigned, “You’ve always been more eloquent in your choices, so why complain? I’ll just let you come up with the menu.” He snorted.
Hannibal grinned, “And yet, you do regardless, my dear.”
Will blinked, and choked out, “ Me? No …”
Hannibal lifted a brow, “Well, you have recently provided us with meat. And merely doing so reveals to me what you want.”
“And so, you know me inside and out.” Will acknowledged thoughtfully and looked out at the crowded businesses and bustling streets. It was captivating in the sense of many people and many lives. Many of the passerbyers were evidently tourists, while others were visiting locals aching for sunshine and spring produce. Will was glad spring had nearly come full bloom, as the tides of early March battled with the rainy chill of February.
An old man in layers of fur laid his body heavily outside a vibrant establishment. Will noticed him; his eyes glazed over - mouth parted in a grimace. The gnarled man held in his hands a Tamburica, with its three single and one double string. The pear-shaped instrument was well-worn and engraved with intricate designs. The old man strummed it with scarred fingers, expertly producing a quake of sound. A patched cap was situated out in front of him, shimmering with coins and folded Euro.
As he played, a gentleman walked up and tossed a few coins into the cap. He knelt and spoke a few words. The gentleman was casually dressed in a jacket and jeans with nothing offputting. However, his mannerisms reminded Will of something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. The gentleman tossed a sideways look at the bell tower above the two before careening off down a cramped alleyway.
Hannibal watched Will’s interest dim, and he prodded, “A semblance of memory?”
“I doubt it,” Will shook his head. His brows furrowed, as he noticed the old man now staring directly at the two of them. Or passed them, he could not tell with those milky eyes. They finished off their drinks and rose from their table.
“Shall we meander, my dear?” Hannibal brought out his arm and smiled almost childishly.
Will looped his arm through his husband’s, “Why not?”
~~~
He fell against the side of a wall in three ragged breaths. He knew he’d find them, and yet - wished it weren’t true. If it was just a false call - one of Jack’s flighty suspicions, and the two men on the run were actually dead… He would have been fine with chasing air. But now, having seen both Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter together - on a wild guess of their location… It stung. It was as though hundreds of glass shards needled their way into his chest.
He quickly recomposed himself before anyone took notice of his sudden break. He coughed aloud before slinking farther into the winding buzz of people - against its raging current. His body was tense, eyes darting from either side, never missing a beat to remain unknown. He was certain now of Mr. Graham’s connection to the missing Mr. Dilas. Why wouldn’t it be so? With Mr. Graham’s spirling complex of blood and justice, and a man of ill-repute… It calls for suspicion. Especially with the bloodthirsty Hannibal Lecter knelt before him with ravenous loyalty. Or was it the other way around? He was not certain of the specifics, but he was ready to take them down for good. Unlike the incompetence of Agent Crawford and his team.
He would avenge his sister.
Ease her eternal suffering.
Even if the light in her eyes would never again meet her smile.
~~~
Hannibal and Will bid farewell to a charming vendor with a wicked tongue and equally fierce eye - who in all accounts insulted the living hell out of both men. But in the manner of his ludicrous and altogether relentless attitude, they were genuinely amused. It was true; as in any other case - he would not live to see the dawn. Hannibal was still grinning like an idiot as they perused the lively stalls. Vendors of all ethnicities and peddlers with roaming carts hawked to nearby passerbyers. Many ventured to take a look at their wares and were ultimately dragged into ridiculously fiery bids. The very stones beneath the two rattled with wheels and feet, causing Will to tremble slightly.
“A lot to take in, Will?” Hannibal called, drowned out by the noise. Will looked at him with narrowed eyes.
“What?!” He shouted back as the crow of a rather vicious lady broke through their bubble of safety.
Hannibal gripped Will’s hand tighter, “We might get run over if we don’t keep moving, my dear!” And so, in a last-ditch effort to avoid being crushed or carried away - they moved alongside the current of buyers and stalls. Whenever they paused, Will would swiftly scan the vendors’ wares and Hannibal would haggle the rest. Will’s Serbian and Montenegrin were put to the test as he pointed to the fascinating items on display.
Hannibal was quietly impressed and rewarded him with a kiss on the head. Will took it proudly with a minute snort. They wandered and wandered to their heart's content. After a while, they sat down on a bench as the flood of people diminished to a gurgling stream.
“I’m happy,” Will says breathlessly. “If the world stopped spinning, and the stars escaped the night. I’d still be happy.”
Hannibal stroked the palm of Will’s hand. His lip quivered, “This is our bliss, my love. Joy in the shroud of cruel existence.” He murmured, close enough for him to hear. “ Despite it.”
Will rested his head back, eyes on the cloudy sky. “I’m tired.”
“Home?”
“Home.”
They rose and set off back through the dwindling crowds. The hours passed in a blur, and the sky began to ache with rest. The glisten of the moon hid shyly upon the horizon, crooning awake. Will paused at the very same spot the old man with the Tamburica sat. He was still there, wrapped in layers of fur and wool. The old man was startled at Will’s appearance, but he simply flicked his milky eyes about. He spoke gruffly in Bosnian, before returning to his dormant state. Will tucked some Euros into the old man’s cap before taking to Hannibal’s side.
“The man was a curious mirror of self-reflection,” Hannibal noted placidly.
Will shook his head, “His eyes were too hazy to see a reflection.”
“Who was he to you, Will?”
Will furrowed his brows, “Someone lost in his head. Waiting for time to take him quietly.” He turned his eyes to Hannibal, “You ask that of every person we meet.”
“Each one is as clearly different as the last to you. Like a mural of infinite color, or a gallery of self-portraits. You see it all.” He replied as they made their way out of the old town.
“Really? Seems like I’m taking on new powers.”
Hannibal tossed his head to the side, “Of observation.”
Will clicked his tongue, “Don’t make me hurt you.”
“Oh, do.” Hannibal pleaded mischievously, a glint of daring in his eyes.
Will dove his elbow into his husband’s side, and he winced back in mocked pain.
“You’re as bad as Hyde.”
Hannibal cocked his head, “Ah, but at least I do not hide my true skin any longer. As Jekyll. As I once did.”
Will raised a brow, “I was talking about our Hyde.”
“I am your Hyde.”
“Hannibal, you’re being a nuisance.”
“When, dear, would you say otherwise?” He inquired with a whisper of a smile.
Will remained silent as they took their car the last way to their cottage. As they drove away, Will caught a glimpse of the same gentleman who had knelt before the old man with the Tamburica. His russet eyes were grim, a stark contrast to his toothy smile.
Those eyes…
That smile.
The familiar curve of the eyelids, strong nose, the dip of firm lips.
The man faded from view as quickly as he came. And Will blinked away the sight, careful to not linger on the strange sense of fear that rippled up his spine.
~~~
They made it home when Hannibal finally turned to speak.
“Will, you have been abnormally quiet since we got in the car.”
Will looked at him with a raised brow, “When am I not abnormally quiet?”
“You seem perturbed,” His husband crooned with furrowed brows.
Will shook his head, “I just thought I saw something odd.”
“Like what?”
Will unfastened his seatbelt, “A familiar face. But - no.”
Hannibal did not pry, considering the rules they had set about delving too far into one’s thoughts. They grabbed their bags, Hannibal fetched the mail, and they unlocked the front door. Hyde at the sound of the ‘click’ went ballistic. He yipped and yapped, barked and whined, all until Will put aside their bags and sat down on the floor. Hyde whined forlorn into his ear, desperate to lick his face and sniff his legs.
Will patted him down, “Who’s a good boy? Y-yes, you are. Such’a good boy. Grrr.”
Hannibal laughed brightly from the kitchen, where he unloaded their produce. Once Hyde settled down, Will clambered up and grabbed a leash. While Hannibal cleaned the counters and organized the cabinets, Will took Hyde out to do his business and romp around in the backyard.
The sky was darkened now, and the clouds rolled in lush gray spirals. A speck of rain hit Will’s cheek and he blinked. “Alright Hyde, let’s get inside. I’d rather not deal with a wet dog in the house….” He paused, “Or deal with Hannibal.”
They returned inside and Will wiped him off before returning to the kitchen. Hannibal grinned, “I’ll bring out the platters when you’re ready to eat, Will.”
Will grunted and wrapped his arms around his husband’s waist. “Sure. In a bit.” He frowned, “Hannibal, remember your promise?”
He nodded, “If you desire, we shall go in a couple of days. Or sooner, if you wish.”
“Thank you,” Will murmured and nuzzled his head into the back of Hannibal’s shoulder - who wore a loose white shirt and copper leather jacket.
Hannibal twisted around and placed a firm kiss on Will’s cheek, his eyes alight.
He whispered, “Blood to blood, bone to bone, my darling. We are dark and beautiful.”
Will looked into the depths of his eyes, pools of mystery and violence. They were his. He released his grip, but not the gaze he traced across the man before him. His heart thumped, tears straining to release.
This man was his shadow in the fading light, his reflection in the gloom. And still, every glance was new and alarming. A savage reminder of the disorder of their lives lived. He glanced down at his open palms, stained crimson.
Hannibal caressed his cheek and left for the office. Will stood alone, the fire in him smoldering. Something churned within. An unstable, insatiable craving. He shook, but not in fear, not in weakness.
In glory.
In tantalizing exultation.
Will stepped out onto the front porch, and down upon the grass. The air sapped his skin of moisture, thick and ravenous. The rain fell heavy, in steady blows of tragedy. The sky was dismal - the stars long gone - and the darkness hummed. Will let the rain carry him into the storm as it soaked him through. He brought his head back in ecstasy, eyes closed, heart but a gentle thud.
He felt it all upon his chest, upon his face. Under his skin, torn into his flesh and bone. It was a tapestry, strewn and tangled for years in chaos. Yet the clarity he once begged for, he renounced. He buried it for the obscure and ravishingly wrong.
He had left it all behind.
The man in front of him was all he ever knew. All that was ever true.
~~~
Vincent crumpled the photo in his hand and tossed it aside. The light flickered and died, as did his lack of resolve. He trembled and slammed his fist into the desk.
He snarled into the murky darkness, his control slipping like sand in an hourglass. “ You will see your blood on your hands. And drink its bitter wine.”
The room filled with silence, hanging in the air, suffocating slowly, cruelly.
He pounded his head against the wall, “I’m so sorry. Sorry - sorry. Sorry sorry sorry sorry.”
Thud, thud, thud thud.
He laughed, “Oh, where’d I leave my head?”
Blood trickled down his brow.
~~~
Two Days Later
~~~
Will’s brow twitched irritably as he looked out the window, his fishing rod in one hand - tackle box in the other. It was supposed to be a sunny and clear day. Birds chirping, bees buzzing.
They probably all drowned.
Rain was coming down relentlessly, and winds howled like the wolves of hell. It hit the shingles of the cottage’s roof in a rhythmic beat, steady and rather frustrating.
“This wasn’t in the forecast,” Will glowered as if his eyes could chase away the clouds.
Hannibal laid a hand upon his shoulder, “Will, you shouldn’t worry. We shall go another day. I’ll personally reschedule the weather to leave a day clear and radiant.” He consoled.
Will placed the rod down beside the door and looked his husband directly in the eye.
“Give me one.” He snarled, “Rotten, stained.”
Hannibal pursed his lips and his eyes sparkled, “Truly?”
“I’m restless. I need something, Hannibal. If you won’t help, I’ll do it myself.” Will stalked away.
Hannibal’s brow quirked, “Luca Daniels. Accused of pedophilia, all charges dropped suddenly - under unknown circumstances. The evidence points undoubtedly to guilt.”
Will glanced back, “Address.”
He pulled out a card for a bike rental, and the name of Luca Daniels was placed at the top. Will grabbed it and shuddered out a breath, “Thank you.”
“Enjoy your time, my dear.”
Will’s face flashed, he did not smile. His eyes did.
~~~
Tivat - Luca’s Wandering Rentals
~~~
Will rang the bell at the front desk and let out a short sigh. The rain had eased to a spittle - but the clouds still hung with dread. He wore a beige turtleneck with rolled-up sleeves, still cold from the wind’s chill. A short man, stout in build, walked in from the back door. A flashy smile reached his ears, his front tooth chipped. His tanned skin was creased with lines and spotted with moles.
“Welcome, welcome!” His accent rolled, “You here to rent a bike? Take a trip across the coast?”
Will shrugged his head to the side, “Yes, hello. I was thinking about it. But- I assume this is the only rental in the area?”
The man bobbed his thick head, “Yes, yes! Luca’s is the only one across the Bay!”
Will cast him a speculative glance, but disregarded it.
“Are you, by chance, Mister Luca Daniels?”
The man grinned boisterously, “Indeed, sir!”
“Ah, a pleasure.” Will ran a hand across the desk, his eyes downcast. A smile played on his lips.
Luca shuddered a laugh, “Well, sir! Would you like to look at the selection?”
He nodded and followed Daniels out the side of the building. In the yard was a full storage of chained bicycles. Will looked around, both hands in his pockets.
Daniels whipped a hand widely to the side, “Look look! Many choices, indeed?”
“Indeed.” Will turned his head to the side, “I’ve heard about you, Mr. Daniels. Good business here in Tivat?”
Daniels’s smile grew wider, his face grayer, “I do not like to boast.”
Will ran his hands down the chains of a red and white bike. It felt cool underneath his fingers. They whispered to him, urging him to greet them.
Will’s voice grew softer, “What about this one?” He waved to the red and white bike. Daniels shuffled over, his shaved jaw nicked with dirty red.
“Good choice, good choice, sir.” Daniels moved around the bike, opposite Will. He turned his back for a moment.
Will heard his breath grow shallow, weary.
“Mr. Daniels, you look faint.” Will purred, his voice coarse.
“Just parched.” He replied hushedly.
Will turned his gaze upward, “I see.” It snapped back down.
“Mr. Daniels, what is that tattoo on the back of your neck?”
He shivered, reaching back to his neck, “Oh, an old thing, sir. I surely forget.”
“Mr. Daniels, it… Reminds me of something I once read.
The man shifted his weight, not taking mind of a hand close to his pockets. “Truly, sir?” His tone grew weaker.
“Mr. Daniels, you do not look well.” Will carefully undid the lock of the bike chains. He took a step forward, as did Daniels.
“Sir, I apologize… The rental is closed.”
Will chuckled, emotionlessly, “It is?”
One.
Two.
Three.
Daniels felt the heat of breath on his neck.
“Sir-sir.” The fearful gargoyle stammered. The reaper to his back greeted him with cold steel.
Will leaned down to his ear, “Little man, what did you feel when you hunted them?” His eyes clouded, voice like a winter’s spite.
“I do not know what you speak of, sir.” The gargoyle steeled himself and lurched to the side. A pistol slipped into his hand and he smirked.
It was weak, as Will saw his bones rattle.
Will stretched his neck, “Mr. Daniels, you must congratulate me.”
He flexed his arms, “today is the day I will have finally slaughtered a pig.”
Daniels bellowed as he pulled the trigger, and Will rolled to the side. The bicycles clattered to the side. He forced his way forward as Daniels tracked him through the chaos. Another shot and the bullet hissed passed his ear. He leaped from across one bike to another, and a moment later - he was on top of Daniels. The pig cried as Will grappled him. A shot rang out, and Will gasped. Scarlet bloomed from his side.
Will growled as he snapped the chains down against Daniels’ burly neck.
He thrashed and sent his arms around Will’s legs, twisting him down. He choked on steel, but now Will was below.
They clambered around until Will escaped with a strike to the ear. He laughed bloodily, “Oooh, beautiful.”
Daniels cursed, his eyes turned panicked. Where did he go? This man vanished.
Where?
Where?
Where?
“ Little man, you wear human skin.” Will cooed and thrust the chains across the pig’s head and against his throat. He struggled and squealed, his eyes bulging. He attempted to take hold of Will’s arms but quickly lost feeling.
Daniels gagged, “W-who are youuu?!”
“ An unstable dog Dad.” He murmured venomously and plunged the man down to his knees, the chains searching to crush.
Daniels thumped as Will stepped before him, looking down with disgust. The chains tilted, shards embedded into skin and muscle.
The man could no longer speak. He groaned with empty threats and begs.
Will’s lip quirked, his head spinning with glee.
“Mr. Daniels, you know what I hate most?”
Daniels choked.
He leaned forward, “ Eyes. Too much. Too little. For you - Mr. Daniels. They are worthless.”
Will pressed both palms to the side of Daniels’s head. The man thrashed, but could not move. Will placed his thumbs on either eye, and the pig screeched inwardly.
“Shhhh. Shhh.” Will crooned, “ If you cry more, you might piss yourself.”
Daniels shook, and he heard the sob, ‘Please don’t kill me. I repent! I repent!’
“Mr. Daniels, what is life without suffering?” Will smiled eerily, “False.”
POP.
POP.
The pig squealed and folded to the side. Blood splattered across Will’s face, and yet his heart felt free. He stood, yet another stain removed from his tapestry.
Will glanced down, “Porchetta's on the menu.”
The rain dwindled and fled from the reaper, his eyes alight with something dark.
Notes:
I hope you enjoyed, as always! <3
WriterQuil on Chapter 1 Wed 15 Mar 2023 01:33PM UTC
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Alexirose on Chapter 1 Wed 15 Mar 2023 07:30PM UTC
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disasterenby420 on Chapter 1 Thu 06 Apr 2023 07:18AM UTC
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Alexirose on Chapter 1 Thu 06 Apr 2023 07:47AM UTC
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Susurra on Chapter 3 Tue 19 Mar 2024 01:13PM UTC
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