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Will picked up a canapé and popped it into his mouth. He moaned appreciatively and looked at Hannibal, rolling his eyes.
“How do you do it?”
Hannibal watched with amused eyes as Will ate three more canapés in quick succession.
“To what are you referring, my dear Will?”
“The food is amazing, and the fact that you make this much for so many people essentially alone is astonishing,” Will said between bites of his fifth.
He gestured toward the lounge in front of them, decorated for the winter holidays and filled with people, along with trays and trays of food.
“Patience and good time management,” Hannibal said, a twinkle in his eyes.
Will leaned closer.
“Do you ever sleep?”
“I rarely require more than four hours a night.”
Will’s eyes widened. “Four hours?” he asked, more to himself than to Hannibal.
Hannibal simply smiled at him.
Will furrowed his brow and tilted his head as he looked around. Other than greeting his guests when they arrived, Hannibal had spent most of the evening with Will rather than circulating through the room.
“May I ask you something, Hannibal?”
Hannibal turned toward him and gave him his full attention, his expression growing serious.
“Of course.”
“Are you standing here so I won’t be uncomfortable?”
Hannibal seemed relieved that was the question.
“I have spent so long attempting to get you to attend one of my parties that I intend to enjoy every minute of your company.”
“But there must be forty people here. You and I talk all the time. Shouldn’t you spend time with them too?”
“As you can see, they don’t seem to mind.”
It was true. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves perfectly well without engaging with Hannibal for more than a few minutes at a time. They ate his food, drank his wine, and discussed God knew what pretentious topics among themselves.
It occurred to Will again that Hannibal might be as lonely as he was.
The front door opened, and Jack stepped inside Alana Bloom at his heels. A staff member attempted to take their coats, but judging by the shake of Jack’s head and the way he stalked across the room still wearing it, the attempt had failed.
Jack wasn’t staying.
Good.
Will pursed his lips as he thought back to the conversation they’d had a week ago, when Will had threatened to quit the BAU.
“You can’t be serious, Jack. Hannibal? Hannibal Lecter? You think he’s the Chesapeake Ripper?”
Will had been astonished.
“He’s our friend. He’s been a very good friend to you and to Bella, and this is how you repay him?”
Jack shook his head as he sat back in his chair.
“I’m just saying he fits the profile, Will. I think if you open your mind to the possibility, you can see it too.”
Will felt his anger rising. His hands curled into fists as the pressure built behind his eyes. He tried to keep his voice even, but it was becoming increasingly difficult.
“Jack, hundreds of people fit the profile. This is ridiculous, and if you continue down this road, Hannibal won’t be the only friend and profiler you lose.”
“Are you threatening me, Will?”
“I’m reminding you to tread carefully. Your actions have consequences, Jack. Realize that.”
Will had stormed out and stalked back to his office, immediately calling Hannibal and arranging to go to his home that evening.
That night, he told Hannibal everything.
Hannibal had not expected Will to be so angry.
Will’s anger rose as he explained the situation, building with every word until, by the time he reached the end, he was practically vibrating with it.
Hannibal, in contrast, grew very quiet.
Jack’s suspicion did not concern him. Will’s did. The possibility that Jack might plant a seed Hannibal was not yet ready to cultivate left him with an unexpected ache.
“He will not find anything. I suppose it is best to let him do his work and rule me out.”
“No! Hannibal, this is unacceptable. It’s unreasonable.”
Hannibal leaned forward on the sofa in his study and placed a hand on Will’s arm.
“It is all right, mylimasis. I appreciate your support and your passion, but I have nothing to fear from Jack’s investigation. He is grasping at straws, and the evidence, or lack thereof, will bear that out.”
Will’s eyes widened.
“How are you not more angry?”
Hannibal sighed. “There is little I can do to dissuade Jack once he has chosen a direction. I see no reason to expend my energy fighting an investigation that will ultimately prove fruitless.”
He looked into Will’s eyes. They were beautiful when he was like this. Storms on a raging sea. They took Hannibal’s breath away.
“Will, it will be alright. With you in my corner, I have no doubt I will be cleared in no time.”
“Well, I’m not leaving you to deal with Jack’s machinations alone.”
Hannibal patted his arm before picking up his glass of Armagnac and gently clinking it against Will’s.
And Will hadn’t.
For the past week, he had remained firmly at Hannibal’s side. Whenever Jack approached with another insinuation or question, Will was there to defend him.
That was how they had found themselves here, at Hannibal’s holiday party, with Jack and Alana working their way through the crowd toward them.
Will turned to Hannibal with a set to his jaw. “Did you invite them?”
Hannibal nodded but didn’t take his eyes off Jack. “I was curious what would happen.”
Jack reached them first.
Will straightened and shifted slightly forward, pulling himself up as tall as he could. Not as tall as Jack, of course, but puffing out his chest a little made him feel better.
Jack held out his hand, and Hannibal shook it.
“Good to see you, Jack.” Hannibal glanced pointedly at his coat.
Jack noticed. “Unfortunately, we can’t stay, but we wanted to make sure we came by.”
“Will. Hannibal.” Alana looked between them.
Will could feel the anxiety rolling off her in waves.
“Let me get you something to eat,” Hannibal said. “And a drink before you go.”
Jack immediately shook his head. “If you can just get me a container from the kitchen, I’ll serve myself and take some home to Bella.”
Will stared at him.
Hannibal blinked.
He recovered quickly and murmured something to a passing server before turning back to Jack.
“Of course. We wouldn’t want dear Bella to miss out.”
Will snorted.
“Really, Jack? It’s all very transparent.”
“Will.” Jack’s voice carried a warning.
He turned back to Hannibal. “I do have your permission, Doctor? To serve myself?”
Hannibal blinked again.
“Of course.”
Will rolled his eyes at Hannibal as a server arrived with a takeout container and Jack began filling it. Several nearby guests watched him with poorly concealed disdain.
“Good evening.” Jack closed the container and turned away.
Alana remained where she was for a moment, her face red. She opened her mouth as if to say something.
Will and Hannibal simply watched her, neither giving her an inch.
“Dr. Bloom!” Jack called from across the room.
Alana winced.
“I’m sorry about this,” she muttered before hurrying after him.
Will sighed as she left and looked at Hannibal.
“This isn’t going to end well.”
“At the very least, not for our friendships.”
“What are we going to do?”
Hannibal sighed. “The only thing we can do. Wait him out.”
He placed a steadying hand at the small of Will’s back and guided him toward the buffet table.
“You simply must try the rumaki.”
Will picked one up and popped it into his mouth. The liver was rich and silky against the crisp water chestnut, all of it wrapped in smoky bacon.
He moaned.
Hannibal would love to hear that sound every day of his life.
He smiled at Will. No one consumed his food quite like Will Graham did.
Will moved farther down the table and stopped in front of another dish.
“What is this?”
“Devils on Horseback.”
Hannibal smiled.
Will stopped chewing and looked at him.
“Of course it is... Perfect.”
His mind flashed to Jack on horseback, coming for Hannibal, and his stomach dropped. A shiver ran up his spine.
Then he huffed a laugh as he tried to decide which Horseman of the Apocalypse Alana would be. Considering the fight that would ensue if they tried to take Hannibal away, it was probably War.
The humor faded almost as quickly as it had come.
He couldn’t let that happen.
Jack was wrong. Will knew he was.
Hannibal raised an eyebrow.
“Something amusing?”
“Most definitely not. How much longer do your parties typically last?”
Hannibal looked disappointed.
“If you wish to leave, mylimasis, I understand.”
Will shook his head and opened his mouth to respond, but Frederick Chilton chose that moment to approach, cane in hand.
“Delightful party, Hannibal. Very modern-day carnivore.”
Will regarded Chilton. His suit was expensive and ostentatious, something he couldn’t quite carry off, making him look ridiculous, as if he needed any help in that department.
Then there was the cane. Necessary, certainly, but also an expensive affectation. Frederick Chilton would never use an ordinary cane. This one was ebony with a silver handle.
“Frederick,” Will said dryly.
Chilton’s eyes moved between them.
“Am I interrupting something?”
“Yes,” Will said.
Hannibal smiled.
Chilton looked to Hannibal as if expecting him to intervene.
He did not.
“Nice to see you, Frederick. I hope you are enjoying yourself.”
Hannibal turned back to Will.
It was as close to a dismissal as Hannibal Lecter was likely to give anyone.
“You were saying?”
Will gave a wry smile.
“I wasn’t asking because I wanted to go home.”
Hannibal’s eyes flashed as he took in Will’s face. The eyes that had been stormy only moments ago were crystal clear now, ice blue and fixed entirely on him.
Hannibal drew a sharp breath.
Everyone else fell away. The party. The guests. Gone.
It was just him and Will.
Perhaps Will simply wanted a way out of the social situation without abandoning his self-appointed guard over Hannibal.
No.
That didn’t feel right.
Hannibal felt the pull of the younger man, that invisible connection that had been palpable since the day they met.
He wanted to reach out and touch him.
He held himself back.
This wasn’t the time. There was still the party.
Hannibal had never wanted a party to end more.
In the end, he excused himself from Will and sought out Komeda to intervene on his behalf.
He could hardly cut the evening short himself without inviting questions. A trusted friend, however, could discreetly spread the word that Hannibal was not feeling well and needed to bring the party to an early close.
Komeda was not fooled for a moment.
She had watched Hannibal spend nearly the entire evening beside the handsome profiler and understood immediately what was being asked of her.
As Hannibal’s closest friend and already quite fond of Will, she was only too happy to oblige.
“You are unwell?” she asked.
Hannibal held her gaze.
Komeda glanced across the room toward Will.
“I see.”
“Your discretion would be appreciated.”
Her mouth curved. “Naturally.”
As Hannibal returned to Will’s side, Komeda approached the first group of guests and artfully steered their conversation toward him.
Hannibal watched as a black-haired woman in a green dress glanced in his direction, pity briefly crossing her face. She nodded at something Komeda said, and after a short discussion, she and the silver-haired man beside her made their way over.
“Hannibal,” the man said. “Thank you so much for a wonderful evening, but we really must be going.”
Over his shoulder, Komeda cast a knowing look at Hannibal and Will.
Will caught it.
He immediately knew this was Hannibal’s doing.
Whatever Hannibal had said to Komeda, she was going to make sure the party ended soon.
“It was lovely to see you. Thank you for coming.”
Hannibal smiled and walked the couple to the door.
Will stayed where he was and waited for him to return.
From across the room, he watched Komeda make her rounds. Somehow, with a few quiet words here and a sympathetic look there, she began emptying Hannibal’s house.
Hannibal said goodbye to the last of his guests, and as they made their way down the steps, he turned to Komeda, the only remaining attendee.
He smiled at her.
“Thank you, Komeda.”
She beamed. “It was my pleasure, Hannibal.”
She kissed him on both cheeks before adding, “I expect a more private dinner invitation soon.”
Her gaze traveled across the lounge to Will, and she nodded toward him.
Hannibal followed her gaze.
“I will see what I can do.”
Hannibal closed the door behind her and took a moment to lean against it and breathe. He wanted to savor the anticipation but first he needed to take care of the staff. He crossed the lounge and approached Will. Stopping several feet from him, he said, “Will, I must dismiss the staff. Would you wait for me in the study?”
At Will’s nod, he said, “Please help yourself to something to drink.”
He watched Will walk away in his ill-fitting suit and longed for the day he could dress him in finer fabrics and the softest cashmere.
He sighed and turned to the kitchen.
Will entered the study and went to the sideboard. He poured two fingers of Armagnac into each of two glasses and carried them over to the sofa.
He was about to sit when something caught his eye.
Will set the glasses down and moved to Hannibal’s drawing table.
He sifted through the drawings until one stopped him.
It was him.
As Patroclus.
And beside him, Hannibal as Achilles.
It was beautiful.
The delicate lines softened Will’s features, his chocolate curls framing his face in a way they never seemed to in real life. His eyes leapt from the page, alive with passion.
He looked beautiful.
Heat crept across Will’s chest and into his face.
Did Hannibal really see him this way?
Could he?
Will wasn’t entirely certain what he had been asking for when he made it clear he wanted Hannibal to end the party early. He had only known that he wanted to be alone with him.
All the time they had spent together over the past week had intensified something that had already been there.
Whatever existed between them had become increasingly difficult to ignore.
As he studied the drawing, he suddenly felt Hannibal behind him, his voice low against the shell of Will’s ear.
“You have found my latest creation.”
“It’s beautiful,” Will breathed.
He turned and looked into Hannibal’s eyes.
“Is this how you see me?”
Hannibal sighed softly.
“No. It is how I see us.”
Will watched the fondness and attraction move through those garnet eyes, accompanied by a hesitation he had never seen there before.
Hannibal Lecter was perhaps the most confident man Will had ever met.
Until now.
Will set the drawing down and turned fully toward him, meeting Hannibal’s gaze.
Hannibal lifted a hand and tentatively brushed one of Will’s curls away from his face, tucking it behind his ear.
Will leaned into the touch.
The hesitation in Hannibal’s eyes disappeared.
His fingers traced the line of Will’s jaw before sliding into his curls and settling at the back of his neck.
Will’s heart began to pound.
Hannibal leaned closer.
Will met him halfway.
Their lips touched.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
Will felt Hannibal’s breath against his cheek, the warmth of his hand at the back of his neck, the faint pressure of his mouth against Will’s. It was almost impossibly gentle.
A question.
Will answered it by leaning closer.
Hannibal inhaled sharply and kissed him again.
This time there was nothing tentative about it.
His fingers tightened in Will’s curls as his mouth moved against his, slow and deliberate, and Will felt something inside him give way. He reached for Hannibal without thinking, one hand catching the front of his jacket while the other settled against his waist.
Hannibal made a quiet sound against his lips.
Will had heard that voice soothe patients, charm dinner guests, dismantle arguments and coax truths out of people who had no intention of giving them.
He had never heard that sound.
He wanted to hear it again.
Will pulled him closer.
Hannibal responded immediately, his arm circling Will’s waist and drawing their bodies together until there was no space left between them. Will could feel the solid warmth of him through their clothes, could smell his cologne beneath the lingering scents of wine and dinner.
Hannibal kissed him as though he had all the time in the world.
It was infuriating.
Will broke away just far enough to breathe.
“You always have to be so controlled?”
Hannibal’s eyes opened.
The garnet had gone almost black.
“Would you prefer I were not?”
Will stared at him.
“I think you know the answer to that.”
Something changed in Hannibal’s face.
Then his mouth was on Will’s again.
Will stumbled backward under the force of it and caught himself against the edge of the drawing table. A pencil rolled somewhere behind him and struck the floor, forgotten before it stopped moving.
Hannibal stepped between his knees.
His hands came up to cradle Will’s face, and he kissed him deeply, all the careful restraint finally beginning to fracture. Will opened to him willingly, tasting Armagnac and something unmistakably Hannibal beneath it.
Heat swept through him.
He slid both hands beneath Hannibal’s jacket and around his waist, gripping the fabric of his shirt as Hannibal tilted his head and kissed him harder.
This was what had been hiding beneath every lingering look.
Every dinner.
Every touch that lasted a second too long.
Every time Hannibal had stepped into his space and Will had allowed him to remain there.
Will had wondered what it would be like to kiss him.
He had been spectacularly unimaginative.
Hannibal’s mouth left his and moved along his jaw sucking a tiny mark in it.
Will tipped his head back before he could stop himself.
“Hannibal.”
His name came out rougher than Will intended.
Hannibal stilled.
Will opened his eyes.
Hannibal was watching him.
“What?”
“Again.”
Will’s brow furrowed. “What?”
Hannibal’s thumb brushed slowly over his cheek.
“Say my name again.”
Will stared at him for half a second before a smile pulled at his mouth.
“Hannibal.”
The reaction was immediate.
Hannibal kissed him again, and Will laughed against his mouth before the laugh disappeared into another kiss.
He buried his fingers in Hannibal’s hair.
That finally did it.
Hannibal’s composure cracked.
His hand slid firmly around Will’s waist and pulled him off the edge of the table and against him. Will gasped, clinging to his shoulders as Hannibal kissed him with an intensity that made the room seem suddenly too warm.
Will liked this Hannibal.
He liked him far too much.
He tugged lightly at Hannibal’s hair and was rewarded with another low sound.
“There you are,” Will murmured.
Hannibal drew back just enough to look at him.
“Where?”
Will smiled, breathless.
“Under all that fucking dignity.”
Hannibal laughed.
Will had barely registered the sound before Hannibal kissed him again.
It was different now. Messier. Warmer. Whatever line they had spent months carefully pretending wasn’t there had vanished completely.
Will wrapped his arms around Hannibal’s neck and surrendered to it.
Somewhere beyond the study, the house had gone completely silent.
No guests.
No Jack.
No investigation.
Nothing waiting outside these walls.
Hannibal slowed the kiss at last, his lips brushing Will’s once, twice, lingering on the third before he pulled back.
Their foreheads rested together.
Will could feel Hannibal breathing.
Actually breathing heavily.
That pleased him more than it probably should have.
Hannibal opened his eyes.
“You stayed.”
Will’s chest tightened.
Of all the things Hannibal could have said, that wasn’t what he expected.
His fingers softened where they rested against the back of Hannibal’s neck.
“I told you I wasn’t leaving.”
Hannibal looked at him for a long moment.
Hannibal kissed him again.
Will felt himself smiling against his mouth.
He couldn’t remember the last time kissing someone had felt like this. There was usually a point when his mind wandered away from the moment, when awareness became analysis and analysis became distance.
That didn’t happen with Hannibal.
There was too much to notice.
The warmth of his mouth. The hand still buried in Will’s hair. The other pressed firmly against his back. The faint taste of Armagnac on his tongue. His smell, masculine and clean.
Hannibal.
Everywhere.
Will tightened his arms around his neck and kissed him harder.
Hannibal responded with a low sound that Will felt more than heard.
He wanted that again.
He wanted everything again.
Will shifted closer and Hannibal moved with him until the back of Will’s knees struck the sofa. He dropped onto it with a startled laugh, pulling Hannibal down with him.
Hannibal caught himself with one hand against the back of the sofa.
For a moment, they simply stared at each other.
Hannibal’s hair had fallen slightly out of place.
Will reached up and pushed it farther.
Hannibal raised an eyebrow.
“Better,” Will murmured.
“I sincerely doubt that.”
“I don’t.”
Hannibal smiled.
Will caught the front of his shirt and pulled him down.
Their mouths met again.
The kiss quickly lost whatever remained of its earlier restraint. Will sank farther into the cushions as Hannibal settled beside him, then partially over him, the weight and warmth of his body making Will’s pulse race.
Hannibal’s mouth moved from his lips to his jaw.
Will closed his eyes.
“You’ve thought about this.”
Hannibal’s lips paused against his skin.
“Frequently.”
Will laughed softly. “How frequently?”
Hannibal lifted his head.
“Would you truly like an answer?”
Will considered the look in his eyes.
“Maybe not.”
“Wise.”
Will laughed again, but Hannibal kissed the sound from his mouth.
His hands were beginning to wander now, exploring with a confidence that had been absent only minutes before. Will answered in kind, running his palms over
Hannibal’s shoulders and down his back, learning the shape of him beneath expensive fabric.
He was strong. Much stronger than the suits let on.
It seemed absurd that he had never touched him this way.
Hannibal had been in his space so many times. A hand on his shoulder. Fingers against his wrist. A palm pressed briefly to his back.
Will had noticed every one of them.
Apparently Hannibal had too.
“Will.”
He opened his eyes.
Hannibal was watching him.
The intensity of that gaze made something tighten low in Will’s stomach.
“What?”
Hannibal brushed his thumb over Will’s cheek.
“Tell me if you wish me to stop.”
Will stared at him.
There it was again.
Hesitation.
Hannibal was giving him an exit.
Will reached up, curled his fingers around the back of Hannibal’s neck and pulled him close enough that their noses nearly touched.
“Do I look like I want you to stop?”
Hannibal’s eyes searched his.
“No.”
“Then stop asking.”
Something almost predatory moved through Hannibal’s expression.
Will’s breath caught.
“That,” he whispered. “That’s what I was waiting for.”
Hannibal kissed him.
Will lost track of time after that.
Clothing loosened and shifted beneath impatient hands. Buttons were opened. Skin that had always been hidden became something they were suddenly permitted to touch.
Will discovered that Hannibal’s composure could, in fact, be dismantled.
He took an unreasonable amount of pleasure in doing it.
Every time Hannibal became too careful, Will pulled him closer. Every time that polished restraint threatened to return, Will found some new way to make his breathing change.
Eventually Hannibal caught Will’s wrist and pressed it into the cushion beside his head.
Will looked up at him.
“You appear pleased with yourself.”
“Very.”
“I had noticed.”
Will grinned.
Hannibal stared at him for another second before his expression softened into something Will had never seen before.
Happiness.
Simple, unguarded happiness.
It stole Will’s breath more effectively than anything else Hannibal had done.
He lifted his free hand and touched Hannibal’s face.
Hannibal turned into his palm and kissed it.
The gesture was so unexpectedly tender that Will felt his chest ache.
“Come here,” he whispered.
Hannibal did.
The next kiss was slower.
Whatever urgency had driven them onto the sofa eased into something deeper. Will let himself sink into it, into Hannibal, into the impossible realization that this was actually happening.
He had spent years keeping people at a distance because closeness demanded things from him he rarely knew how to give.
Hannibal never seemed to require translation.
He simply understood.
Will slid his fingers into Hannibal’s hair and held him there.
The fire burned lower.
Their abandoned glasses of Armagnac sat untouched on the table.
Somewhere in the house a clock marked another quarter hour, then another.
Neither man noticed.
There was nothing tentative left between them.
When it was over, Will remained stretched along the sofa with Hannibal half beside him and half over him, their clothes in varying states of disarray.
For several minutes, neither spoke.
Will’s heartbeat slowly settled beneath Hannibal’s hand.
He stared at the ceiling.
“Well.”
Hannibal lifted his head.
“Well?”
Will turned toward him.
“Komeda is going to be insufferable.”
Hannibal laughed.
Will smiled.
He liked making Hannibal laugh.
He liked far too many things about Hannibal Lecter.
Hannibal leaned down and kissed him again, softly this time.
“Stay.”
One word.
Will looked into his eyes.
There was no seduction in them now. No carefully cultivated charm. Hannibal simply wanted him there.
Will thought of Jack.
Of the accusation.
Of the week he had spent standing beside Hannibal while everything around them seemed determined to pull them apart.
He touched Hannibal’s cheek.
“I already told you.”
Hannibal waited.
Will smiled.
“I’m not leaving.”
Hannibal kissed him.
And Will stayed.
Hannibal got up and turned his back to Will as he refreshed their glasses of Armagnac.
Will looked at his naked form, the dancer’s legs and the strong musculature of his back, and felt his heart jump.
Hannibal was his now.
Hannibal turned and handed him a glass before sitting beside Will and tucking him against his side.
Will took a long sip of the Armagnac and set the glass on the table. He kissed Hannibal’s neck and sighed deeply.
“How do you feel, mylimasis?”
Will blushed.
“I feel wonderful. And you?”
Hannibal kissed the top of his head. “I am wondering why we waited so long.”
Will huffed a laugh and picked up his drink.
“I agree.”
He took a long sip as Hannibal picked up his.
“Perhaps we should go upstairs.”
“Sounds good.”
“Let me freshen our drinks.”
Will woke with a headache.
At first, he didn’t know where he was.
It took him a moment.
Hannibal’s bed.
Will smiled.
He stretched and reached across the mattress, expecting to find Hannibal beside him.
Cold.
Will opened his eyes and looked at the clock.
Three in the morning.
He sat up and rubbed at his temple before climbing out of bed and wandering into Hannibal’s closet. He found one of his favorites, a maroon sweater, and pulled it over his head.
It was far too large for him, falling almost to mid-thigh.
Will smiled again.
He was suddenly surrounded by Hannibal’s scent. He lifted the fabric to his nose and breathed deeply before going in search of him.
First stop, the kitchen.
No luck.
The study, then.
Hannibal only slept four hours a night. His hobbies seemed to consume most of the remaining twenty. Will expected to find him at the harpsichord or bent over his drawing table.
The study was empty.
Will frowned.
He checked the library. The dining room. The downstairs bathroom.
“Hannibal?”
Nothing.
The house remained silent.
The pleasant haze of sleep began to disappear.
Will searched the rest of the house before finally opening the door to the garage.
He stopped.
The space where the Bentley had been parked the night before was empty.
Maybe something had come up and Hannibal needed the twenty-four-hour pharmacy.
No.
He would have woken Will.
Maybe he needed something from an all-night grocery store.
No.
Cutting the party short had ensured they had enough food to feed themselves for a week.
Will stared at the empty space.
Where could he be?
A chill ran up his spine as he considered the possibilities. He shivered, and not entirely from the cold of the garage.
Will went back inside and made himself a cup of tea.
He carried it upstairs and sat in Hannibal’s bed, surrounded by him yet feeling more alone than ever.
His head really hurt.
More than it should, perhaps, considering the amount he had drunk and how much food he had eaten the night before.
Will took another sip of tea as his heart began to sink.
Three-thirty.
Hannibal was still gone.
Perhaps he simply couldn’t sleep and had gone for a drive to think. So much had happened between them last night. Maybe Hannibal needed some time away from Will to gain some perspective.
Will’s stomach coiled.
That wasn’t it.
He took another sip and frowned.
The tea tasted strange.
No.
It was his mouth.
Will got up and carried the empty cup into the bathroom. He drank three cups of water from the tap, brushed his teeth, then found some aspirin and swallowed it.
He left the teacup on the counter and walked back into the bedroom, climbing back into bed.
Will closed his eyes.
He tried to sleep.
One thought refused to leave him.
Where was Hannibal?
Will was floating in that strange space between sleep and wakefulness when he heard the garage door.
His eyes flew open.
He looked at the clock.
4:18 a.m.
Will switched on the bedside lamp and sat up. His heart was pounding.
He heard Hannibal downstairs, moving quietly through the house.
A door closed.
Footsteps.
They were getting closer.
As Hannibal reached the stairs, Will panicked.
He switched off the lamp, dropped back onto the mattress and pulled the covers over himself.
Rolling onto his side, he closed his eyes and tried desperately to slow his breathing.
In.
Out.
Slow.
Even.
The stairs creaked beneath Hannibal’s footsteps.
The footsteps stopped abruptly.
Will thought his heart was going to beat out of his chest.
Then they continued.
The bedroom door opened.
Will cracked one eye and watched as Hannibal silently moved through the room.
Dressed in black pants and a black turtleneck, Hannibal made his way to the closet. Will heard the rustle of fabric as he apparently began to change.
Clothes.
Oh, shit.
Will grimaced as he realized he was still wearing Hannibal’s cashmere sweater.
Hannibal would know he had gotten up.
He had a minute. Maybe two.
Perhaps he could take it off and hide it under the bed.
No.
Too late.
Why was he even pretending?
This was absolutely ridiculous.
This was Hannibal.
He should just ask him.
Will heard the soft creak of the closet door closing.
He squeezed his eyes shut, then deliberately relaxed them, letting his eyes drift back and forth beneath his lids in an attempt to mimic REM sleep.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
He heard Hannibal approach the bed and felt the covers pull back.
Then nothing.
Hannibal didn’t get into bed.
Shit.
The back of the sweater was exposed.
For a full minute, there was no movement.
Only Hannibal breathing.
Then Will felt the lightest touch against his back.
Hannibal took the edge of the sweater between his fingers.
Will felt goosebumps rise along his legs.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
The fabric slipped from Hannibal’s fingers.
The mattress dipped as he finally climbed into bed and pulled the covers over himself.
Hannibal moved closer.
An arm slid around Will’s waist, drawing him back against him.
Will could smell the cold night air clinging to Hannibal beneath his usual mouthwatering scent.
He had definitely been outside.
Hannibal pressed a kiss to his curls and settled in.
Will wanted to lean back into his touch, and that pissed him off more than anything that had happened so far. He wanted to forget any of this had happened.
As Hannibal lay there holding Will, he wondered just what he had gotten up to in his absence.
He had been uncertain, given how much Will had eaten and drunk, how much of the sedative to add to his Armagnac nightcap.
Clearly, he had not given him enough.
Hannibal made a mental note for next time.
Will had gotten up long enough to put on a sweater. Perhaps that was as far as he had gotten. Maybe he hadn’t gone looking for him.
No.
Will was too curious.
He would have sought Hannibal out.
How much did he know?
Was he aware Hannibal had left the house?
What would he do with that information?
Fascinating.
Just as Hannibal began to drift off, the doorbell rang.
He pressed a kiss to Will’s neck.
“I’ll get it. Sleep, mylimasis.”
Hannibal pulled on a pair of silk sleep pants and a soft V-neck T-shirt before heading downstairs.
He knew there could only be one person at his door at this hour.
He opened it.
“Jack.”
“Hannibal.”
Jack stepped into the foyer.
“Abel Gideon had an accident last night and ended up in the ER.”
Hannibal leaned against the table in the center of the room and folded his hands in front of him.
“That certainly could have merited a phone call rather than an in-person visit this early in the morning, Jack.”
Jack leveled him with a curt look.
“Abel has since been kidnapped from the hospital by the Chesapeake Ripper. He murdered an orderly and hung him over Abel’s bed.”
“What are you asking me, Jack?”
“Where were you last night?”
“I was here. All night.”
Jack stepped closer.
“Is there anyone besides you who can confirm that?”
“I can, Jack.”
Hannibal looked up.
Will stood on the landing at the top of the stairs wearing nothing but Hannibal’s maroon sweater.
“Hannibal was with me all night.”
Jack’s eyebrows rose as he took in the sight of his profiler, half-dressed in Hannibal’s clothing. The implications were fairly obvious.
Jack cleared his throat.
“You’re sure? He was here all night?”
Will huffed a laugh.
“Believe me, I’m positive.”
Hannibal met Will’s eyes.
They were clear and icy blue.
Jack’s embarrassment only seemed to increase as he looked from Will to Hannibal and back again.
Finally, he turned to Hannibal.
“Don’t leave town.”
As he stalked out the front door, Jack muttered, “This isn’t over, Graham.”
Hannibal closed the door behind him and turned back to Will.
“Breakfast?”
Will looked down at him.
“And a conversation, I think.”
Hannibal was cracking eggs into a bowl when he realized it.
His heart was beating fast.
Normally, his pulse rarely climbed above seventy-eight, even when he was strangling the life out of someone.
He was nervous.
It had been years since he had felt this way.
All because of Will Graham.
A thrill moved through his veins at the thought.
Hannibal glanced over at him.
Will sat silently drinking the Bloody Mary Hannibal had made to combat the inevitable headache from the sedative.
Will had lied for him.
But why?
“How is your head?”
Will eyed his Bloody Mary.
“Getting better, though I’m beginning to wonder why it hurts so much.”
Hannibal’s heart jumped.
That was it, then.
Will wasn’t angry merely because Hannibal had been gone.
He knew about the drugging.
“Perhaps I poured you one too many Armagnacs. I’m sorry if I contributed to your headache.”
Will stared at him for a long moment as Hannibal stirred the eggs in the pan.
“You know, I think that is actually the truth.”
Hannibal froze.
His heart skipped a beat.
He turned to Will.
“I am sorry, Will,” he murmured.
Truth.
“I know you are.”
Will held his gaze, making certain Hannibal was paying attention.
“You can never do that again. Do you understand? Never.”
“I understand.”
“Do you?”
Hannibal turned off the burner.
“Yes.”
Will watched him.
“And?”
Hannibal knew what he was asking.
“I will never do it again.”
Hannibal turned back to the eggs and sighed.
Will said, “Now. Where did you go?”
Hannibal’s heart jumped again.
He should have realized this conversation was not over.
He plated their protein scrambles.
As he set Will’s plate on the counter in front of him, he said, “To the hospital.”
Will’s eyes widened.
“You took Gideon.”
“Yes.”
Hannibal handed him a fork.
Will picked up a piece of sausage and eyed it.
“Are you the Chesapeake Ripper?”
Hannibal met his stormy gaze with a fiery look of his own.
“Yes. I am.”
Will popped the sausage into his mouth and chewed slowly.
He couldn’t stop the moan that escaped his lips.
Hannibal simply stared at Will for a few moments.
“What?”
Hannibal continued to stare at him.
“That was not the reaction I anticipated.”
Will swallowed.
“What did you expect me to do?”
“I wasn’t certain.”
Will took another bite.
“Then why did you tell me?”
“You asked.”
“You know, I was absolutely convinced Jack was wrong.” Will shook his head. “I feel like an idiot. I was so blind.”
Hannibal placed his hand over Will’s.
“In your defense, I worked very hard to blind you.”
Will looked down at their hands and threaded their fingers together.
“No more tableaux. Please, Hannibal. I won’t try to stop you from being who you are, but I can’t lose you to Jack.”
Hannibal stared at their joined hands.
“You understand what you are asking of me?”
“Yes.”
“Do you really?”
Will’s fingers tightened around his.
“I’m asking you to stop giving Jack reasons to take you away from me.”
Hannibal stared at Will as his heart began to beat even faster.
Will was choosing him.
All of him.
Not the FBI.
Not Jack Crawford.
Him.
Someone who could truly see him.
How could he refuse?
“Of course, mylimasis. For you, anything.” Hannibal paused. “There is, however, an idea I would like to run by you.”
Will narrowed his eyes.
“I’m almost afraid to ask.”
Hannibal smiled.
“Frederick Chilton.”
Will lowered his fork.
“What about him?”
“I believe he may be of some assistance in resolving Jack’s current fixation.”
Will stared at him.
“You want to frame Chilton.”
“I prefer to think of it as providing Jack with a more satisfying answer.”
Will considered it.
Chilton was abhorrent. If his attempts throughout their acquaintance to delve into Will’s mind weren’t enough to convince him, the rumors of his abuse of patients and the psychic driving employed at BSHCI certainly were.
One less Chilton in the world was music to Will’s ears.
“Okay. How are you planning on doing that?”
Hannibal regarded him carefully.
“Miriam Lass is alive.”
Will went still.
Slowly, he put down his fork and closed his eyes.
A shiver ran up his spine as the implications settled over him.
Two years.
Then he felt Hannibal’s hand cover his again.
Will opened his eyes.
“You’ve been holding her this entire time?”
“Two years.”
“Where?”
“My cliffside home in Calvert County. It is owned under an alias.”
Of course it is.
“What is her condition?”
“She is perfectly well.”
Will huffed a laugh.
“Except for the arm.”
Hannibal sighed.
“That was an unfortunate necessity.”
Then it dawned on Will.
Oh. My. God.
“You’re going to let her go.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Hannibal’s gaze remained on him.
“Because she can identify the Chesapeake Ripper.”
Will’s expression changed.
“Chilton.”
“Yes.”
The pieces locked into place in Will’s mind.
He understood now why Hannibal was so good at chess. He could think seventeen moves ahead of everyone else.
“You’re certain she won’t identify you?”
“I am absolutely certain.”
Will slowly nodded.
“Then let’s do it.”
Hannibal studied him.
“You intend to help me, then?”
Will blinked.
“Of course.”
Hannibal stared at him.
Will took another bite of his breakfast.
“What?”
“You continue to surprise me.”
Will swallowed.
“You drugged me because you thought I wouldn’t support you.”
There it was.
Hannibal lowered his eyes to their joined hands.
“Yes.”
“Don’t make that mistake again.”
Hannibal shook his head.
“I will never underestimate you again, mylimasis.”
Will nodded.
“Let’s get started, then.”
He released Hannibal’s hand and started to stand, but Hannibal caught his wrist and gently pulled him back into his seat.
“There is something else we must discuss.”
Will’s stomach dropped.
“Don’t say it, Hannibal.”
Ever since Hannibal’s confession, Will had been trying to push the thought of her from his mind.
Hannibal murmured, “Abigail.”
Will closed his eyes.
A tear slipped down his cheek.
“Why?”
Hannibal took both of Will’s hands in his and rubbed his thumbs gently over their backs as Will sat perfectly still, bracing himself for the answer.
“She is alive as well, Will.”
Will stared at him.
Then the breath left him in a rush.
He began to cry as everything he had held together since waking finally gave way.
Hannibal pulled him into his arms.
Will buried his face against him and sobbed.
He realized then that Hannibal had been trying to tell him Abigail was alive for weeks with all that talk of teacups.
“Why?”
“To protect her from Jack. Abigail was a full participant in her father’s crimes, and Jack was closing that loop. I did not think you would understand.” Hannibal sighed. “Another misstep on my part, I’m afraid.”
Will didn’t care about Abigail’s past.
He didn’t care about anything at that moment.
She was alive.
That was all that mattered.
He pulled back and looked at Hannibal.
“Where is she?”
“She is with Miriam.”
Will was off the stool before Hannibal had finished speaking. He caught Hannibal’s hand and pulled him toward the stairs.
“We need to go there. Now.”
He was practically giddy with relief.
“Could we shower first?”
Will stopped halfway up the stairs and looked back at him.
“Together?”
Hannibal pulled Will toward him and kissed him.
In the end, the shower was a quick affair.
Will was far too excited to see Abigail to think about anything else. There was some kissing as they washed each other’s hair, but beyond that, Will was practically vibrating with anticipation.
His endless questions weren’t exactly helping the mood.
“What has she been doing all this time?”
“Studying for college. She is taking classes online under an assumed name. She is Abigail Brentwood now. She also assists in Miriam’s care when I cannot be there.”
Will shook his head as Hannibal dried him off.
“How do you manage all of this?”
Hannibal chuckled.
“If you are referring to all of my extracurricular activities, I have told you before, Will. I require very little sleep.”
“No. I mean staying one step ahead of everyone.”
Hannibal gave him a wry smile.
“I submit the same answer.”
The drive to the cliff house took far too long in Will’s opinion.
They had switched cars at a storage facility, leaving Hannibal’s behind and continuing in a Range Rover Will never thought he would catch Hannibal dead in.
Will asked every question he could think of and then somehow found more.
“Is there anything else you need to tell me? If there is, please just get it over with.”
Hannibal paused.
Will turned slowly to look at him.
“There is one more item of note.”
“Jesus Christ.”
“Abigail is missing an ear.”
Will stared at him.
“It is part of the plan to frame Chilton, but I did not want you to be alarmed when you saw her.”
“You cut off her ear.”
“Yes.”
“While she was alive.”
“She was anesthetized.”
Will stared through the windshield.
“That wasn’t actually the part I was worried about,” Will muttered.
“I needed a part of her to plant in Chilton’s home. Something she wouldn’t miss. She actually chose it.”
Will rolled his eyes.
“That actually doesn’t help your case.”
Will took a deep breath.
“How long have you been planning to frame Chilton?”
“For some time.”
Will stared at him.
“Before Jack suspected you?”
“Long before.”
“You really do think seventeen moves ahead.”
Hannibal smiled.
“I endeavor to.”
They pulled up to the house, and Will climbed out of the car.
He stretched as he looked at it.
The house was gorgeous, all glass and teak. Secluded. No neighbors. Perched on the edge of the cliff, it looked as though it might fall into the sea at any moment.
Then a flash of cinnamon hair passed one of the windows.
Will stopped breathing.
The front door opened.
And there she was.
Abigail.
His heart leapt in his chest.
She stopped dead when she saw him.
Her eyes moved from Will to Hannibal and back again.
Hannibal stepped up beside him.
“It’s okay, Abigail. He knows everything.”
Abigail’s face crumpled.
She ran to Will and threw her arms around him.
For a moment, he was frozen.
She was warm.
Alive.
Then Abigail whispered against him, “I’m so sorry, Will. I wish we had told you sooner.”
He kissed the top of her head.
“I don’t care.”
She lifted her head.
“What?”
“I don’t care. You’re alive. That’s all that matters.”
She hugged him tighter.
Will laughed through the last of his tears, scooped her into his arms and swung her around once.
When he set her back on her feet, he brushed the tears from her cheeks.
“There will be no more crying. Not anymore.”
Abigail giggled.
She wiped her face with her sleeve, then ran to Hannibal and threw her arms around his neck.
“Oh, thank you for telling him.”
Hannibal patted her back.
“You are welcome, my dear. Let us get inside.”
Abigail released him and stepped back.
Hannibal reached for Will’s hand as they started toward the house.
Abigail’s eyebrows shot up.
Hannibal caught the look and huffed a laugh.
Will blushed.
“Yes,” Hannibal said. “We are, as they say... a couple.”
Abigail clapped her hands together once as they walked into the open-plan house.
“Oh. My. God. I am so glad. I just knew you would make the best couple.”
“How long?”
Will looked at Hannibal.
Hannibal looked at Will.
“Last night,” Will admitted.
Abigail stared at them.
“Last night?”
“Technically,” Hannibal said, “early this morning.”
Will elbowed him.
Abigail made a face. “Ew. Too much information.” Then she giggled. “It’s really cool, though. I’m so happy for you.”
Hannibal looked at her as they made their way into the kitchen.
“And what have you been up to this week?”
Abigail smiled at him. “Je travaille mon français et mon histoire de l’art.”
Hannibal beamed at her.
“Excellent. Je suis très content et fier de toi.”
Will looked at Abigail as they sat down.
“You’re studying French and art history?”
Abigail looked shocked. “You speak French?”
“I grew up in Louisiana. I understand French and speak enough to get by.”
Abigail beamed. “You have to come visit me in Paris.”
Will felt the earth shift beneath his feet.
“Paris?” he choked out.
He had just gotten her back, and she was leaving.
Will saw Abigail’s face fall at his look of dismay.
Hannibal saw the looks on both their faces and placed a steadying hand on the small of Will’s back.
“Will, Abigail cannot live here, trapped in this house forever. She is going to Paris to study art in the fall.”
Will leaned into Hannibal’s touch as he watched Abigail stiffen.
He knew Hannibal was right. It wasn’t fair to keep Abigail here just because Will wanted her close.
He reached across the table and took her hand.
“I can’t wait. We’ll have so much fun.”
Abigail began to smile again.
“We absolutely will. I’ll show you everything! I’ve been studying all the neighborhoods and the cool things to do on the weekends.”
Hannibal looked at her fondly. “Not too much fun. You will have to make time for work as well. School is just as important.”
Abigail rolled her eyes. “Yes, Dad.”
She seemed to realize what she had said and reddened as she glanced away from Will.
She looked so much like a child in that moment. It was hard to believe she was almost eighteen.
Hannibal said, “Speaking of work, how is our guest? I must go check on her.”
He got up from the table.
Abigail straightened, and all signs of the awkward teenager disappeared.
“She is as you left her. I changed her IV this morning and made sure she was comfortable.”
Will stood as well. “I’m coming with you.”
Hannibal nodded. “As you wish.”
Abigail got to her feet and hugged Will.
“I am so glad you’re here.”
Will hugged her back. He kissed the top of her head.
“Me too. Me too.”
He released her and followed Hannibal down a long hallway to a door with a keypad.
Hannibal entered the code, making no attempt to hide the numbers from Will.
The door opened onto a long flight of stairs.
Will followed Hannibal up.
At the top, a landing opened into a huge room that seemed to span the entire width of the house.
There were no windows, but it was brightly lit by several skylights. In fact, it was almost too bright. The walls were white. The floor was whitewashed pine. Even the furnishings were white.
Will blinked as his eyes adjusted.
At the far end of the room stood a white-framed bed with a comfortable-looking chair beside it. A bank of monitors displayed security feeds from around the property, while medical equipment surrounded the blonde woman lying beneath the covers.
Miriam Lass.
Her hair was spread across the pillow, fanning around her face.
Will noticed the IV in her right hand.
Her left arm was still bandaged. Most of it was gone, with only part of the upper arm remaining.
Hannibal didn’t wait to see his reaction. He moved to the bedside table, opened a drawer and removed a large syringe. He drew medication from a vial, injected it into the IV port and slowly depressed the plunger.
Will watched Miriam.
No discernible change came over her. She remained as still as she had been when they entered, her breathing even and measured.
“Where will you put her?”
“I have a place. I shall use a burner phone to call Jack from that location, much as I did with Miriam’s arm.” Hannibal turned toward the closet. “Help me get her up and dressed.”
He pulled out a large, fluffy party dress and held it up.
Will stared at it.
“No. That looks too much like something you would choose. Do you have jeans and a sweatshirt?”
Hannibal made a face.
He returned to the closet and pulled out a pair of plain jeans and a sweater.
Will took the sweater from him and checked the label.
“Too expensive. Something else.”
Hannibal’s expression tightened.
He pulled out a T-shirt.
Will checked the tag.
“Perfect.”
They pulled down the covers and detached the monitoring equipment. Will averted his eyes while they changed her clothes.
Hannibal lifted Miriam into his arms and carried her downstairs, with Will going ahead to hold the doors open.
Abigail was sitting at the kitchen table when they returned. Her eyes widened when she saw Hannibal carrying Miriam.
“What’s going on? I thought we weren’t ready?”
Hannibal smiled.
“We are ready now.”
Abigail grinned at them both. “Great. Don’t forget my ear. It’s in the freezer.”
They had just made it home to Baltimore when Jack called.
“Will. I need Hannibal to come to headquarters. Miriam Lass has been found.”
“Jesus, Jack. I’m so sorry.”
“She’s alive, Will.”
Will let the silence stretch for a couple of seconds.
“Alive? That’s amazing. Is she okay?”
“Aside from two years of trauma and missing an arm? She’s great.”
Will winced.
“I can’t believe you’re doing this, Jack. What are you doing, putting Hannibal in a lineup?”
“Not exactly. Just get here.”
Jack hung up.
Will turned to Hannibal.
“How are you going to turn them toward Chilton?”
“I planted flowers at the scene bearing Chilton’s fingerprints as well as mine. If they fail to make the connection, we will find another way.”
“Why yours?”
“To ensure they put me in a room with Miriam. She will definitively state that I am not the Chesapeake Ripper.”
Will stared at him for a moment.
Then he leaned forward and kissed him.
“Diabolical.”
In the end, it went off without a hitch.
Miriam made her declaration, and Will and Hannibal went on their way.
“Dinner before I have to go and prepare Abel for the transition to Chilton’s home?”
Will’s eyes flew to Hannibal’s.
“I’m helping.”
Hannibal regarded him skeptically. “At this point, Will, I feel I should remind you that you are under no obligation to assist me. I am perfectly capable of handling this part myself.”
Will’s eyes were a stormy blue.
Raging seas.
Hannibal knew that look.
“I’m absolutely helping.”
“Very well. If you insist.”
Will blinked at him.
“Maybe dinner... after?”
Hannibal took Will’s hand and led him to the basement door concealed in the pantry floor.
“Most of what we need is already at Chilton’s home. There is a separate entrance through the basement. I have hidden the necessary equipment there.”
Will followed him down the stairs.
As he stepped into his new partner’s murder basement, he stopped in awe.
Everything was perfectly appointed. Much like the rest of Hannibal’s home, the room screamed Hannibal.
An industrial meat freezer occupied one wall. A full surgical suite stood at the center of the room. Shelves were lined with an array of surgical equipment, each item meticulously organized and labeled in Hannibal’s perfect script.
Then Will saw the unconscious man in the bed.
Much like Miriam, Abel was silent and still.
This time, it was his legs that were missing.
Will froze as he took it all in.
“Are you all right, Will?”
Will looked at Hannibal and sighed.
“I just can’t believe this was underneath us the whole time we were... getting together. All this time.”
He gestured around the room.
Hannibal studied him carefully.
“Does his condition disturb you?”
Will looked at Abel, then back at Hannibal.
“No. Well, yes. Obviously. But that’s not what I mean.”
He gestured vaguely toward the ceiling.
“How many times was I sitting up there having dinner with you while there was someone else down here?”
Hannibal considered the question.
“Would you truly like me to answer that?”
Will stared at him.
“No.”
A faint smile touched Hannibal’s mouth.
“Probably wise.”
Hannibal took his hand.
“You are free to leave at any time, Will.”
“No. I’m in this now.” He sighed. “What’s next?”
Hannibal nodded.
“We must remove his arms and prepare him for transport.”
He began moving monitors and surgical equipment into position around the table. Will stood back and watched as Hannibal worked.
Finally satisfied with the setup, Hannibal crossed to Abel and pulled back the covers.
“Would you mind bringing the IV stand?”
Hannibal lifted Abel and carried him to the surgical table, laying him gently on the surface as Will followed with the IV.
Hannibal picked up a vial, drew a measured dose of anesthetic into a syringe and administered it through the IV port.
Then he sat on a stool, put on surgical gloves and picked up a scalpel.
He looked at Will.
“Would you like to make the first cut?”
Will stared at him.
“What? Me? No. I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“I can teach you.”
Will stared at him.
“That was not an invitation for a lesson.”
“I merely wished to clarify your objection.”
Will cleared his throat.
“I’m not ready for that.”
“Should you change your mind, you need only let me know.”
Will gave a nervous laugh.
“Noted.”
Hannibal pulled the skin taut over Abel’s right shoulder and made the first cut.
Will held his breath as he watched the flesh part beneath the scalpel. Blood, dark red and fresh, immediately welled from the wound.
“If you could dab that with gauze, it would be of assistance. Simply discard it on the floor when it becomes saturated.”
Will pulled on a pair of gloves and moved closer to do as he was asked.
As he watched the red spread across the impossibly white squares, he thought about the difference between where Miriam had been kept and where Abel was now.
The beautiful yet horrifying white attic.
The dark, equally horrifying basement.
He wondered, if Hannibal ever kidnapped him, where he would be kept.
Probably Hannibal’s bedroom.
He could live with that.
Hannibal worked quickly, tying off veins and cutting through flesh. Will asked questions throughout, and Hannibal answered each one as he worked.
As Hannibal peeled the flesh away from the upper arm, exposing the bone beneath, he said, “Will, would you hand me the bone saw, please?”
Will picked it up.
A strange rush went through him as he placed it in Hannibal’s waiting hand.
Hannibal positioned the blade and pressed the switch.
The saw buzzed to life.
Will thought he might pass out from exhilaration.
Hannibal touched the saw to the bone. The whine of the blade cutting through it reached Will’s ears as the smell of burning tickled his nose.
Will wanted to try.
He felt himself flush at the thought.
He didn’t ask.
Hannibal finished closing Abel’s shoulder and moved on to the second arm.
It proceeded much the same as the first, except this time Will anticipated Hannibal’s needs much more quickly. They hardly had to speak. Will instinctively knew when Hannibal needed another instrument, fresh gauze, or the sweat wiped from his brow.
By the time they reached the bone again, they had fallen into an effortless rhythm.
This time, Hannibal didn’t ask Will for the saw.
He stepped back from the table and gestured for Will to take his place.
He had seen the look on Will’s face.
Will hesitated.
Then he stepped forward.
For a moment, he simply stood there, the saw heavy in his hand.
“Here?” he murmured, indicating the spot with his other hand.
“A bit higher. Perhaps half an inch.”
Will pressed the power button.
The saw whined against the bone. Vibrations traveled up his arms as he fought to keep the blade from skipping.
It seemed to go on forever.
That beautiful whine.
The burning smell.
Then he was through.
Will released the button.
Silence.
Hannibal lifted the severed arm from the table, wrapped it in plastic and set it aside.
Then he leaned toward Will. Careful not to touch him with his bloody gloves, Hannibal kissed him.
Will kissed him back.
“That was beautiful, Will.”
“Yes, it was.”
By the time they returned from depositing Abel at Chilton’s home, Will was exhausted.
It had taken him quite a while to get over the anxiety of being inside the man’s house without his knowledge. Every settling floorboard, every sound from outside had made him think Chilton was coming home.
Hannibal had known he wouldn’t.
Chilton had a standing appointment with a sex worker every Sunday night and rarely returned home before morning.
Apparently, Frederick fancied himself in love.
Hannibal found that particularly amusing.
What would the society mavens think?
They collapsed into bed and curled up together.
Will fell asleep almost immediately.
When his alarm went off the next morning, he dragged himself out of bed and stumbled into the shower. Hannibal was already up.
He had a class in an hour and realized he hadn’t graded the student papers. He huffed a laugh at how little he cared.
Will dressed his old jeans and one of Hannibal's white dress shirts. As he rolled up the sleeves, the scent of Hannibal’s cologne drifted around him.
He liked smelling like Hannibal.
He hoped it lasted all day.
Will walked downstairs smiling.
He found Hannibal in the kitchen, plating a frittata with bacon.
Will pointed at the bacon. “Dare I ask?”
“Better not.”
Will rolled his eyes and picked up a piece anyway.
He popped it into his mouth and couldn’t help the moan that escaped him.
It was delicious.
“How many patients do you have today?”
“Six. Nothing truly exciting. How is your day looking?”
Will picked up the coffee Hannibal slid toward him.
“I have a class this morning and two this afternoon. I’ll call you if there is any movement on Chilton.”
Hannibal walked to the refrigerator and pulled out a fabric tote.
“I made you lunch.”
Will’s heart skipped a beat.
He leaned over and kissed Hannibal soundly.
“Thank you. That was very thoughtful.”
“It was no trouble. I enjoy caring for you.”
Will blushed and looked down at his coffee.
“I like it too.”
Will finished his frittata and glanced at the time.
“I’ve got to get going.”
Hannibal walked him to the door.
“Will you come here after work?”
“Absolutely.”
Hannibal pulled him into his arms and kissed him.
When they parted, Hannibal smoothed Will’s collar into place.
His fingers lingered against the white fabric.
Will caught the look on his face.
“You like me wearing your clothes.”
“Immensely.”
Will grinned. “Good to know.”
Will finished his class and headed back to his office.
He was starving.
When he opened Hannibal’s tote, he began to laugh.
There was a cloth napkin. Real silverware. Three glass containers held various dishes that looked as though they belonged in a Michelin-starred restaurant.
Will opened the first and took a bite of Niçoise salad.
He couldn’t help the moan that escaped him just as Beverly knocked on his door.
“Hey. You didn’t get back to me this weekend. How was Hannibal’s party?”
The party felt so long ago.
Will couldn’t believe it had only been a few days. So much had happened since then.
He blushed and smiled.
Beverly’s eyes widened.
“OH. MY. GOD. Look at you. Are you wearing his shirt?”
Will just nodded.
“Jack said you were together, but I didn’t believe him. What the hell, Graham? Why didn’t you call me?”
How could he possibly explain?
He certainly couldn’t tell her Hannibal was the Chesapeake Ripper.
“I’m sorry, Bev. We got a little wrapped up in each other.”
She pulled up a chair, stole a piece of tuna from his salad and popped it into her mouth.
“Well, you look great. Love looks good on you.” She chewed and pointed at the container. “Mmm. That is amazing.”
Love.
That was what it felt like.
They hadn’t said it yet, but Will was sure.
Hannibal was the one.
Maybe he had known it from the moment they met.
He just had to make sure Hannibal was safe.
Jack poked his head into Will’s office, knocking on the open door at the same time.
“Will. Bev. I need you in Interview One.”
“What’s going on, Jack?”
“Jimmy found one of Chilton’s fingerprints at the scene where Miriam was recovered. We’re bringing him in for her to identify.”
Will exchanged a glance with Beverly, and they both stood.
They followed Jack into the hallway.
As they made their way toward the interview room, no one spoke. The tension between Will and Jack still hadn’t thawed, and Beverly glanced between them as the silence stretched.
Will finally broke it.
“So, Jack. How is Miriam?”
“She’s doing remarkably well. She wants to come back to the Academy.”
“Really?” Will looked at him in surprise. “Are you going to let her?”
“As long as she’s cleared psychiatrically, I don’t see why not.”
They walked into the observation room.
Miriam Lass was already there.
She stood as they entered and walked over to them. It was strange seeing her awake and moving after finding her unconscious in that white room only the day before.
“Hi, Miriam,” Will said.
“Hi, Professor Graham.”
“Will. Please.”
Beverly nodded to her.
“Hi, Bev.”
“Hi, Miriam.”
Jack regarded her carefully.
“Are you sure you’re ready for this?”
“I’m sure, Agent Crawford.”
She looked ready. Calm. Capable.
Jack walked to the phone on the wall and picked it up.
“Bring him in.”
They turned toward the glass.
Alana Bloom led Dr. Frederick Chilton into the interview room.
“Please, Frederick. Sit.”
Will watched Miriam.
Her expression didn’t change as Chilton walked into the room and sat down. It didn’t change when he looked directly at the mirrored wall.
Then he began to speak.
“Dr. Bloom, this is completely absurd. I have no idea what I’m doing here.”
Miriam began to shake.
Jack noticed immediately.
“Miriam. Are you all right?”
She only shook harder.
Chilton stood.
“Where is Jack Crawford? Are you watching, Jack? I’ve done nothing wrong, and I want my attorney.”
Miriam began to whisper.
“It’s him. It’s him. It’s him. It’s him.”
Everything seemed to slow.
Miriam’s knees buckled, and Jack caught her, pulling her against him.
Will saw her hand move toward Jack’s holster.
He knew what she was reaching for.
He could have stopped her.
Instead, Will stepped back.
“It’s him. It’s him. IT’S HIM!”
Miriam tore the gun from Jack’s holster.
Jack realized what was happening a fraction of a second too late.
She fired.
Chilton dropped.
For one suspended moment, no one moved.
Then Miriam released the gun and sank to the floor, dissolving into tears.
Will stepped forward and kicked the gun away.
Jack dropped beside Miriam and pulled her into his arms.
Frederick Chilton was buried with little fanfare. Most people were unwilling to be associated with the man now believed to have been the Chesapeake Ripper.
Because he died before he could be convicted, his family successfully sued the FBI for wrongful death. A maiden aunt was awarded enough money to live out the rest of her days in considerable style.
Miriam, for her part, never returned to the FBI and was forced to give up that part of her dream forever.
Although she was never prosecuted for killing Frederick Chilton, she was considered too unstable to ever carry a badge and gun again.
Will thought about Miriam and her little life as a librarian in a small town in Vermont as he searched their vast library for a book to take on the plane.
He wondered if her library contained half as many books as theirs did.
He doubted it.
This would be their third trip to Paris in as many years to visit Abigail, an annual pilgrimage to see their daughter and everything she had made of her life.
Abigail was in the final year of her art history degree, with plans to become an art restorer.
On their last trip, they had gotten married.
It had been a small ceremony with just the three of them and a pastor. It was beautiful, everything Will could have asked for.
When they arrived home, of course, Hannibal had needed a big wedding.
A grand affair with hundreds of guests and course after course of food. Beverly had been Will’s best man, and Komeda had stood up for Hannibal.
Jack and Bella had attended, fences mended long ago.
As Will began to descend the ladder in the study, Hannibal’s arms circled his waist and helped him down.
“Did you get the dogs off okay?”
“Buster was unhappy with the arrangement, but other than that, everything went according to plan.”
Over the years, life with Hannibal had allowed Will to fulfill his boyhood dream of keeping pets.
Seven dogs thus far, all rescues.
It turned out Hannibal loved dogs too.
Will turned in his arms as his feet reached the floor and wrapped his arms around Hannibal’s neck.
“Are you ready?”
Hannibal looked into Will’s eyes, clear and ice blue.
Perfect.
“When you are, mylimasis.”
Will brought their lips together in a kiss.
{*WHEN YOU ARE*}