FOUND: A Hannigram Devil AU

11

Where's Katie? Where is she? I want my sister. You threw yours away. Why? I WANT MY SISTER--

"Will? Will, come back to me."

     Will was vaguely aware of Hannibal's voice coming from far away, muffled behind the ringing in his ears. There were fingers snapping right in front of his face, and he blinked as he tuned back from zoning out. His fingers stung horribly, and he realized that he'd picked the skin so deep they were oozing blood. The room was hot, and the stench of death permeated it.

     "There we go. Hey, Will." Hannibal was kneeling next to him on the ground, his hands on his shoulders. "You're in shock. Can you hear me?"

     Will nodded, his breathing getting faster. "I killed him," he whispered. "I killed him.." His clothes were damp and sticky, and his view of Hannibal was obstructed by the dots of blood on his glasses. He would never wear those glasses again.

     "I know you did." His touch was reassuring. "Can you tell me what happened?"

     "He's dead. I shot him."

     "I know."

     "He was..he was going to kill me. He choked me." Will swallowed. His mouth was dry, and he felt like he'd swallowed sand. "He killed Cassie."

     "It's okay, Will," Hannibal said. "You were defending yourself."

     "No," Will replied, grabbing onto Hannibal's arm. "Look at him. I did it twice. I didn't..I didn't have to, but I shot him twice.." His eyes darted all over the place. "I'm screwed."

     "I saw. That doesn't matter. Look at me." Hannibal shook Will's shoulder. His gaze was steely, determined. "We can let Jack and his team find this, or I can help you. We can hide this."
     Will couldn't imagine how they would go about doing that. "We can't hide this. We don't have time."

"But we do have time."

Will glanced at his watch. The second hand ticked a couple of times before coming to a halt. Will shook it, frustrated, but it didn't budge.

     He looked up. The clock on the wall had stopped, too. The slowly widening pool of blood under Nicholas's body had stilled. The world was silent. Hannibal moved his hand up to the nape of Will's neck, and his fingers were like icicles on Will's sweaty skin.

     "We have all the time in the world," he said, his voice low and monotone. "Tell me the truth, Will. Do you want to make this go away?"

     Panicked and spurred on by Hannibal's command, Will nodded. "I can't let Jack find this. I'm not allowed to have the gun..I could get suspended. Fired." It was the truth. It was the most truthful he could get. Finding the Shrike, keeping his job, was more important than telling Jack what had really happened to Nicholas. "I was stupid to bring it."

     "Frankly, I'm very glad you had the gun."

     Looking into his eyes, Will found himself just as trapped as that first day in the office, his brain enveloped by static and his body locked in place. He understood the way that officer felt now— Hannibal was such a powerful force, commanding. No matter what he told him to do, Will would think it was the only choice he had. He was comforting and terrifying, steady like an anchor and raging like the sea. Will was reminded of the clash of dark antlers against porcelain skin. Midnight wings and snowy fog.

"Now," Hannibal began, "you're going to listen very carefully. I need you to do exactly as I say, alright?"

     And Will did just that. Together, they shifted the body into a more natural position, splaying it out on the ground. Will took off his jacket and used the sleeve to wipe the gun down meticulously, making sure none of his fingerprints were left on it. Hannibal covered his hand with Will's jacket sleeve and maneuvered the gun into Nicholas's hand, pointed towards his injured temple. The only soundtrack was the droning noise, and Will watched everything from an outside point of view. He wasn't doing this himself— he'd dissociated from the situation. Watching himself like he was watching a movie, moments away from yelling at himself for his own stupidity.

What are you doing? What the hell are you doing?

     "I was in this room when it happened," Hannibal said. "Saw it with my own eyes. Nicholas shot himself in the stomach, thinking it would be enough, but the pain was too unbearable. He finished the job with the head." The story flowed out of him effortlessly, and he spoke like the events meant nothing to him. "I am going to make sure everyone believes that."

     Will finally stood up, his knees locking up and causing him to stumble. His head spun with endless worries. The white noise was just now fading; he'd been in another world and was finally returning to Earth.

     "And with that," Hannibal followed suit, "we have a suicide."

     Will stayed silent, his nails digging into his palms. The ruined skin on his fingers burned. He must have really been clawing at the wounds.

     "Are you alright if I resume things, or do you need a minute?"

     "Can I ask you something first?"

     "Only if I can in return."

     Will nodded. "..You've done this before," he alleged. "You..you kill people. You're a serial killer. And you hide it."

     Hannibal's face didn't change a bit. "Yes."

     "Why?" Will felt a stab of betrayal; he wanted so badly to place his trust in Hannibal, but this was a sharp reminder that he couldn't. No matter how much he tried to help Will, how comforting he was, he was still the Devil. He was the embodiment of evil, and he cared no more about Will then about anyone else. At least, that was Will's perception of things.

     "I'm afraid I can't answer that." He looked down at the floor, studying Nicholas. "Perhaps we can discuss it at a later session."

     Will didn't want to push the issue and risk angering him. Who knew why the Devil did what he did? What had he expected? . The important thing was that Hannibal was a murderer— sick and depraved and no better than Nicholas Boyle.

And Will was just as bad. He'd murdered a man in cold blood, and he was going to get away with it. He turned away from the scene, walking towards the doorway.

     "I didn't get my question."

     Will stopped.

     "You were safe. You had him debilitated already. Why did you shoot him in the head?"

     Will opened his mouth to speak, then closed it once he realized he had nothing good to say. He'd never told Hannibal the order that the shots occurred, but of course he knew. He knew everything. Will held on tightly to his bloodied jacket.

     "Doesn't have to be anything complex, Will. What came to your mind in that moment?" There was genuine interest in his voice.

     Will thought back, channeling the panic he'd felt. "..He was going to scream."

     Hannibal didn't answer, and Will began to worry he'd said the wrong thing. Then, a sudden wind rushed through his ears, and his stomach lurched forward as the world resumed its natural motion. His watch began to tick, and the breeze outside caused the old house to creak. He heard the deep voices of the police team outside.

     Without turning back, Will left the house to face whatever was coming next. He was an absolute mess, blood staining his clothes and skin. His eyes were wild; they were the eyes of a man who'd seen more than any of us could ever dream of.

     Hannibal, of course, emerged looking pristine.