Chapter Text
“Fear makes us feel our humanity." - Benjamin Disraeli
-
Hannibal does not recall the trip there, not after he lost Will over the phone. The only thing he could think of was getting to him and Winston and now, now he finds himself standing amidst the pandemonium.
Will’s car was just off to his right. The front end crushed against the trunk of a tree with broken glass surrounding the vehicle and there was a sizable amount of blood amongst the foliage on the driver’s side.
Hannibal begins to thoughtlessly search for Will. He had heard the struggle over the other end of the phone, but he could not be sure that Will was taken or left for dead. His heart is beating rapidly in his chest, screaming out the trepidation and contempt that tears at him.
After a moment, the cacophony around him begins to turn into recognizable clamors and words were amalgamating to form sentences that made sense even to his apprehensive mind.
After a moment he tries to slow his breathing, tries to think clearly so that he can process the scene before him.
Will is not there, he knows this. He was within his captors’ delirious hands, the person in which they do not have any sort of lead on at the current moment.
Where’s the dog?
The thought flashes through his head and precipitously he is looking around for the furry pile of energy, but they are nowhere to be found.
Did he run off? No, he clearly heard him cry out over the phone as he called out to Will.
Had he passed and been removed from the scene? No, it would have been too soon for that.
Hannibal could hardly get control of his thoughts. This feeling was unfamiliar to him. Yes, he had cared for people in the past but not how he cared for Will. His chest tightens as he mindlessly moves closer to the car before he is stopped by Beverly who steps out in front of him.
“Hannibal,” She starts, searching his face and mirroring the contrition that he feels billowing inside him. But he is quick to compose himself because rattling would do nothing to help Will in this situation. “You’re going to need to step back behind-”
“Winston, where is Winston?” He knows what happened to Will, but the dog was a mystery. And if there was anything he could do right now, it would be to locate Will’s dog so that when he finds him, and he will find him, he will have Winston.
“I forced the paramedics to take him to the nearest vet hospital with one of our forensics since his muzzle was covered in the guy’s blood. We’re hopeful to get a positive ID.” Beverly explains briefly, watching as Hannibal processes the information.
“What was the severity of his injuries?” Hannibal questions.
“I couldn’t really tell. He was still alive though when I sent them off. I think the nearest Vet hospital is only a few miles out from here.” She adds.
Hannibal glances around the area until his attention is captured by a yellow flag lying away from the other streamers at the scene. It summons him like a child being lured in with the promise of a lollipop.
Beverly is still talking, but he has already stepped away and quickly approaches the single material that flaps wildly against the fall winds. As he gets closer his stomach begins to churn.
He hears Beverly approaching behind him, but she is too late.
Hannibal sees Will’s severed finger lying dead amongst the dirt and leaves with pieces of flesh hanging from the peoximal phalanges due to the untested way in which it was removed. There was a small puddle of blood that surrounded the pale flesh, and he takes notice that Will’s ring is nowhere to be seen, the only thing they left was the finger and the lingering smell of iron and sweat.
Dread was too kind of a word to describe the feeling the encased the doctor’s mind. Disquieted horror was a more acceptable analysis. If it had been anyone else, he would not have batted an eye, would have even questioned whether they deserved what was coming their way. But this was Will, his Will.
“Hannibal…” Beverly starts with uncertainty lacing her usually calm tone.
“This seems personal.” Hannibal states, as his eyes linger on the limb. This wasn’t just to sever Will’s attachment to marriage, it was a mockery, a victory. “There is no reasonable explanation as to why they would sever the limb and take the ring.”
Why did Hannibal feel like this was a message for him. That he was mocking him and claiming something, someone, that was his.
Trepidation wraps its astringent hands around his racing heart and the surrounding air begins to feel heavy. This would not stand.
“What do you mean by ‘this seems personal?’” Comes Jacks severe voice off to their right as he had just arrived on the scene.
Hannibal spares Jack a brief glance before answering.
“They are trying to send a message through their act of violence against Will. A simple method would have been to remove the ring as they have done with past victims. But they decided to remove the finger and take the ring instead.” He explained.
“Is he angry at Will?” Jack asks with a quirked brow as he comes to stand beside them.
Hannibal cannot bring himself to feel animosity towards Jack and his actions, as Will had agreed to help and had also indicated that this was all arranged from the start, and they were all just along for the ride.
“No, it’s not at Will. I do believe that he cares for Will and that perhaps he planned to take him from the beginning, Will came to that same conclusion. But he is also incensed due to the nature of their capture.” Hannibal explains as heat rises in his chest. He can feel himself slipping into a confounding array of emotions that threaten to expose his very core.
“You then?” Beverly points out the exact thought that was plaguing his thoughts.
“Perhaps. Regardless, we need to find Will, and I believe that starting with your forensics team is on the top of that list.” Hannibal states as he turns his attention away from them.
“We have a good chance at finding Will. We found blood in the area, and we know that Winston bit the suspect. The best thing you can do right now is step off to the side whilst we process everything.” Beverly states in a calm voice.
He glances down at Beverly, she was ignorant thinking that he could only stand behind the tape when Will was in the clutches of a mad man. Besides, if they had properly done their job his husband would not be missing in the first place. But instead of pointing this out, he simply responds with.
“I understand.” Hannibal finally responds. “I need to locate Winston. Will will be dismayed if he is left alone.”
Hannibal turns his attention to the Beverly to see sympathy and remorse masking her physiognomy. He knew that she was just as worried.
He nods towards Jack after a long pause knowing that there was nothing further he could do since he had no authority over the situation, but that did not mean that he would leave this solely to the BAU.
He steps back slowly; eyes still fixed on the body part before walking back to where he came from with Beverly following behind him.
“I hope Winston makes it out. I will keep you posted.” Beverly says reaching out to grab Hannibal’s arm before he can step away. “Hey, we will find him. I swear it.”
Hannibal shakes his head in agreement, not trusting himself to speak before he makes his way back towards his vehicle. He was going to find Winston first to ensure a sound mind before he goes in search of his husband.
Whether this was personal or not was up to the evidence, and he knew that if he goaded Jack, he would be able to assist in this – and even if he did not allow it, Hannibal would find his own way around. He would go through hell and back to find him, and he had a feeling that is exactly where this would take him.
Nevertheless, he knows Will and he knows that he can hold his own, he was smart, but he was also cocky and didn’t know when to keep his thoughts to himself, it’s what made him Will. Regardless, Hannibal did not intend to find him dead, he would find him alive and see that this man was hung.
-
Hannibal sits in an emergency vet clinic that smells of cleansers, sweat, blood and the lingering stench of wet dog hair. It had taken him several calls before he found which veterinary hospital they had taken Winston to – and once he arrived, he was told that they were attempting to stabilize Winston before following up with a request for payment.
He now understood why Will despised veterinary clinics and solely went to Molly for all of Winston’s care at her private practice. Will was close to Molly, close enough that she invited them to her wedding and would sometimes ask them to babysit Wally when her and her spouse planned a night out.
Though Will was not fond of socializing, he always seemed to get along with children. He was protective of them and cared about their well-being. Hannibal had a sense that it was because he did not have anyone to protect him during his juvenile years. But his husband did not talk much about his father, in fact the only thing he knew is that he was often times physical with Will and that there was a falling out when he was a teenager - but that was the extent of it and Hannibal was not going to force the information from him.
He had been sitting here for just over five hours. He knows that if forensics and DNA analysts were doing a rapid test on the blood they would already have an ID, but he has not heard anything from Beverly or Jack leading him to wonder if they could not get a positive identification or if it was taking longer.
He can’t escape this daunting feeling that the DNA would be a dead end, and that Will would be lost to him. Every time he thought about this he revisited the evidence in his mind. Goes over every detail of the case that Beverly had provided and the information he found in Will’s things, but he comes up empty each time.
However, there is something, some detail that he was overlooking and yet he could not place it.
He hears his name called and is instantly out of his chair and is across the room within a few strides.
“Hi, I am Casey I was the one performing surgery on Winston.” She explains simply, her brown eyes looking tired. “Winston is going to be okay. The wound did not damage any of his vital organs, though he did lose a significant amount of blood. We’ll want to keep him for a few days to monitor him, but he will make a full recovery.”
“Thank you, Casey.” Hannibal says earnestly. He could not imagine the impact of losing Winston would have on Will. The dog was practically attached to his hip and loved him profoundly. “I appreciate what you have done for Winston. When will I be able to see him?”
“I would suggest calling ahead of time tomorrow during visiting hours. We want to keep it a low stress environment right now, but I am sure he will be happy to see you.” She says with a warming smile. “May I ask what happened to him?”
“He was wounded whilst protecting someone close to him.” Hannibal explains, feeling that same peg of compunction crawling through his chest.
“I hope they are okay.” She responds sincerely.
“As do I.” Hannibal says with a dip in his tone.
He feels his phone vibrating in his pocket and quickly excuses himself when he sees Beverly’s name dancing across the screen.
“Hello.”
“Hey, I shouldn’t be telling you this, but we got the bloodwork back.” There is a long pause as though Beverly is trying to think on how she could put the situation into words. “Listen, the ID that came back was on a Paul Singer.”
Hannibal feels relief flush through his chest like a dam had burst and wiped away the apprehension.
“Hannibal, Paul Singer died twenty-nine years ago at the age of thirteen in a fatal car accident with his mother. We are chasing a ghost.”
Hannibal goes deathly quiet, his mind circulating the information and trying to piece it together. He can’t panic, he needs to stay levelheaded for Will’s sake.
“Hannibal?”
“Where do we start?” Comes Hannibal’s quick response.
Hannibal would drag this bastard out into the light because no one can stay a ghost forever.
-
Will wakes to the sound of footsteps transcending down what sounded like a flight of stairs and takes notice that the individual is walking in confident strides lacking any and all hesitation in approaching his newest victim.
Will’s attention then falls to his head that is pounding along with the rhythm of his heart and he remembers briefly that he sustained a head injury which leads him to pull his hand up to search for a wound only to find that they are bounded with rope and placed in front of him. After a moment he takes notice if the solid material wrapped around his ankle the clanks when he moves his leg as though it is attached to poll of some sort.
His chest tightens as he starts to take in his surroundings. It starts with the smell of bleach and mold that lingers in the air, to the sound of an electrical buzz from an overhead light and all the way down to sudden pain that awakens in his hand, that’s when he feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand in contrition. He had severed his finger.
“You’re awake.” Comes a cheery voice. “I brought you some water. You are probably parched after the sedative.”
Will opens his eyes and squints against the dull lighting that hardly illuminates the entirety of the room.
Once his vision clears, he finally meets the other man’s dark green eyes grabbing a quick glance of the melanin and lipochrome that resulted in the unique color. He notices that Eric’s gaze seems feverish with excitement and Will cannot stand to hold his attention, so he begins to look around the room.
He notices the sudden tension that rises between them, but he can’t bring himself to care as he searches the area. His sight falls to the small flight of stairs that leads back into what he presumes might be their house. The wall that were once a stark white is now covered in black mold and the cement flooring is coated in old stains, most of them darkened with age but is unmistakably blood from their previous victims.
Once he finishes scanning the room, he turns his attention to the rope that bounds his hands together wondering if it was constrictor knot that he had already presumed they used on the others – but once he focuses on his hands he feels a pivot of dread bounce through him at the sight of his missing finger that is wrapped in gauze and covered in crimson. Finally, he rests his eyes downwards to take in his appearance and quickly notices that he had been changed into a loose black short sleeved shirt and a pair of denim jeans.
“I would apologize for the way that I treated you during our first official encounter, because I know I was a bit rough.” Will could not help but to think that that was putting it lightly. “But I knew that you were going to be difficult unlike the others. I had to disorient you and take the risk of losing you. I thought that if you made it out it would be a sign that you were truly the one. Though, I guess I knew that from the start when I first saw you. You were perfect.” Eric adds. “I was going to wait, but I saw you put two-and-two together and I knew that I had to pull the fish in before he got away.”
They sit in silence as Will tries to piece the situation together, starting back to the day that he first laid eyes on him as Will was not one to forget a face.
“How long?” Will asks in a tired voice.
“How long have you been here?” Eric questions with a raised brow.
“No, how long have you been watching me?” Will elaborates squinting against the lights.
“Ever since you wedded. I knew then that you were special because Hannibal would not have fallen for the average person. No, he fell for the man with a brilliant mind.” Eric answers with a toothy grin, his body practically vibrating with ebullience. “I am so happy you are here now, Will. I have waited for this day for quite some time now.”
Will tries to wrap his head around the timeframe but finds himself revisiting the event only to feel sickened at the memory of Winston being injured, but he recalls that Hannibal was on the phone and a bit of warmth spreads through his chest. He would have called the police, and hopefully they arrived in time to save him. For now, he needed to assess the situation.
“How do you know Hannibal?” Will inquires as he closes his eyes to alleviate the discomfort in his head. “Were you a patient?”
“No, no, no…” Eric rambles as his voice raises. “That is not how this is going to work, Will. In all do time will I provide you with information. But for the meantime, I am in control of our interactions, and you are to remain compliant.”
Will is quiet for a moment as he perceives his captor. He knows that he needs to approach the situation like he was walking on thin ice, like at any given moment he could plunge into the cold water and drown, but he had never been quite good at that.
“So, what now?” Will asks, finally breaking the silence. “Are you going to keep me here until you grow tired of me? Will I end up like Miles Jacob’s or Alec Posts with my face peeled off? Your work was ostentatiously childish, like your loneliness was crying out for attention.”
Will grunts as pain flairs through his chest and black spots dance around his vision. He didn’t even see it coming, one moment Eric was a few feet away and the then he had the profiler lying on his back with a knee jammed into his chest.
“Is that how you feel about my work, Will.” He asks through gritted teeth. “Ostentatiously childish?”
“Yes.” Will breaths out as he tries to steer his attention away from the pain. “By association, you felt for those men - but they were not what you were looking for, so you decided to use each of them to grab my attention through demeaning measures. It was excessively showy.”
Eric smiles down at him as his hand comes up to cup around Will’s chin.
“You do not disappoint, Will.” He remarks whilst brushing his thumb over his cheek. “I am not going to kill you, Will. No, I am going to use the same measures that my father used on my mother to attain what I want. I am going to break down those ‘forts’ of yours and make sure that you stay loyal to me.”
The green-eyed man then reaches into his side pocket with his free hand and pulls out a capped syringe with a colorless liquid.
“Do you know what I have here, Will?” He inquires with a quirk of his brow as he brings the top of the needle to his mouth and removes the cap with his teeth. “I will let you guess at it after the effects have warn off. But my father said that the best was to break a bitch is to tame it first.”
Will tries to use his hands to prevent their actions, but Eric’s leg is resting on top of his bounded wrists making it impossible for him to use them, so instead he resorts to thrashing around with his legs and trying to force his face from the grip. However, his attempts are futile and, in an instance, Eric has forced his head to the side and pushes the needle into the side of his neck and then Will feels cold liquid flushing under his skin as it enters his bloodstream.
His captor shushes him, waiting a few minutes for Will’s movements to slow down before he slowly shifts his weight and moves off of the shorter man and tosses the emptied syringe behind him.
Will’s body feels heavy like several weights had been placed over his body. His heart is in his throat and his eyes feel heavy enough to break diamonds.
“Eric…” He starts. His voice echoing through his ears. He opens his mouth to speak again but he cannot remember what he was planning to say. It was as though his thoughts were going through a computer program that was sorting through the materials, keeping what it thought was important and deleting the rest.
“That’s it. Don’t worry. It only lasts for a few hours.” Eric reassures him, but even their voice sounds wrong to Will’s ears.
Everything seems erroneous.
Sweat is collecting above his brow and around his neck. He tries to make sense of what he was given, but each time he tries to think about it he gets confused. He finds consternation tearing at his flesh when he realizes he can hardly remember the events prior to feeling this way.
He tries to keep his eyes closed, tries to block out whatever is happening, but then he hears it, he hears that same daunting voice and the same repugnant word.
“See.”
Will’s breaths come out in gasps, each pant forcing his chest to rise and fall at an unpredictable pace.
“See?”
“Eric,” Will tries again, trying to block out the attack on his senses from the external stimuli. “What did you give me?”
“See?”
“I gave you a little something to help us get on the same page.” Eric explains lightly.
“See?”
Hobbs’s voice is right by his ear, he feels his breath brush over his skin, feels the warmth radiating from his skin. But he’s dead, he put nine bullets in him trying to save his daughter who died shortly after. He was dead and buried.
When he opens his eyes, he sees Eric still stooping and a playful smile tugging at either side of his lips.
“I am going to give you some time, Will. I have to clean up my wound and get to my shift. But I will be back in time to take care of you.” Eric explains before slowly standing up to his full height. “You are going to be perfect, Will.” He declares as he makes his way towards the stairs and ascends the staircase leaving Will to suffer the consequences of the drug.
Will wants to scream or potentially laugh at the incongruity of the situation. Here he is stuck in a basement with a racing heart, dreary eyes, and images mixing with sounds that were not even there.
He hopes that sleep will take him, but the whispers begin to crawl through his ears. Some calling his name, whilst the others repeated the same formidable word that had haunted him for the past several years.
He would survive him. He would make it through whatever drug this was and gain their trust. But this thought is brief, fleeting almost, yet he knows that he will have to cling to it in order to endure what was to come.
“See?”