FOUND: A Hannigram Devil AU

29

     Will spent the next day preparing himself for his trip, packing a small duffel just in case. He needed to be strong for a twenty-four hour drive; there weren't any flights out to Minnesota for a good few days. He didn't have that kind of time. Not with the DNA results coming soon and Hobbs's tendency to run.
     He spent a long time on the floor with his dogs, hugging them and feeding them bites of bacon. His heart stung with guilt as he looked at their wagging tails, their loving eyes. He was completely unsure of what his life was going to look like, and it scared him. The only person he could count on to bail him out of the inevitable DNA match was Hannibal, whom he'd just walked out on. Nothing was set in stone, and nothing was more horrifying than that uncertainty.
     He pushed away his doubts and loaded himself into the car that evening. He wanted to get the night driving over with, and after a long afternoon nap he felt up for it. He ran through a checklist in his head: lights off, doors locked, doggy door open, food and water bowls filled to the brim. With one final look back at his house, he drove off.
     The last thing he expected was a call from Jack Crawford at eight thirty in the evening, a mere half hour into his drive. He reluctantly answered, trying to keep his voice steady and hide what he knew.
     "Hello?"
     "Hey." Jack's voice was casual, nowhere near angry. Will's shoulders relaxed. "Beverly says they're finally gonna do the DNA tomorrow. They'll have the results by tomorrow afternoon— I want you to be there. I've invited Doctor Lecter, too, in case he has some insight."
     "..I thought I wasn't apart of the case." Will couldn't mask the sharp edge in his tone. He heard Jack sigh.
     "I might have been wrong in my judgement, Will. The Budish case could turn into something completely different, depending on what we find. I could use your help."
     "And the Hobbs case?"
     "I'm not letting you back onto the Hobbs case. Budish may have been a fluke; that one is definitely too personal for you. I've seen your face when you walk out of those scenes, Will. For a split second, you're a little boy again."
     Will felt insulted, patronized, but he tucked away the irritation. He was on thin ice with Jack, and he wanted to keep civility in case things went awry. He wanted Jack to believe in the best of him. "Okay," he agreed. "I'll come in to look with you guys tomorrow. It'll be later in the afternoon, though." He was surprised how easily the lie slipped out. He wouldn't be anywhere near Quantico tomorrow; he'd be in the middle of the Minnesota woods. They'll be grateful, he thought. It'll all be worth it.
     Will drove and drove and drove. There was nothing eventful going on on the interstate, and he found himself extremely bored. He planned out his method of arresting Hobbs, working out the flaws and making sure that everything was going to go the way he wanted them to. He crossed multiple state lines, not stopping unless he really needed to. He wanted to be as efficient as possible.
     The night gave rise to morning, the morning to afternoon. Will's body was beginning to notice the effects; he was stiff, sore, his eyes heavy and his brain foggy. He glanced down at the dashboard clock: it was nearing three o'clock, only five measly hours to go until he reached the cabin. He hadn't stopped to think what he'd do if Hobbs wasn't there— it would be a complete waste. He could only hope.
     He got the first call from Jack shortly after. He ignored it, silencing his phone. It began to rain, the sky darkening more and more as he drove on.
     More calls came, along with texts ranging from confused to concerned to downright angry. Will had officially invoked the wrath of Jack Crawford, which made him hope even more that something about this trip could go right. He could redeem himself.
     All that hope went away an hour later. His phone began to buzz again, and out of some unexplainable urge, he glanced down at the screen. The sight of a different name caught his attention: Hannibal's name flashed at the top, the green slider beckoning him to answer. Cautiously, he picked up the phone and answered.
     "I'm only answering to tell you that I can't do this right now."
     Silence on the other end, just Hannibal's soft breathing. Will waited with his heart in his throat. Something serious was happening; either that, or just something creepy. With the Devil, he couldn't let his guard down with either scenario.
     "Hannibal?" He gripped the steering wheel. Rain battered the windshield. Finally, his voice:
     "..They know."
     Will's breath caught in his throat. He knew Hannibal could hear the sound, could feel the terror rushing through him.
     Hannibal hung up, the dial tone deafeningly loud in Will's ringing ears. He dropped the phone into his lap, his jaw quivering. They'd found his DNA. They were coming after him, and he was halfway across the country— running away, in their eyes.
     He was done.
     He felt sweat running down the back of his neck, his shirt sticking uncomfortably to his back. He focused on the road, but everything was too much. The rain was too loud, every drop like a miniature gunshot. The interstate's lampposts were too bright, and he was moving too slow. God, it was so hot in here. The air was on full blast, and his body shivered, but he was still so hot. He pressed down on the pedal like his foot was made of lead, the car revving as it accelerated up to triple digits. He couldn't go fast enough. He couldn't see. He contemplated taking his hands off the wheel, letting whatever happen happen. Letting the car crash, letting the wheel slam into his chest and—
     No. No, he had people to save.
     Slowly, carefully, he eased off the gas and let the car slow back down. Miraculously, he didn't spin out on the wet roads.
     He couldn't spiral now. He couldn't. There was so much riding on this. He had to get Hobbs arrested, cancel out the horrible things he would certainly be accused of. He knew his phone was buzzing, but he ignored every call.
     Wait. They could track him. Panicking, he grabbed the phone, but before he did anything drastic he thought about something important. He dialed the number.
     "Hello?" Beverly's confused voice spouted out from the speaker. "Will?"
     "Bev. Is Jack with you?"
     "No, I'm in the lab. He's been looking everywhere for you— what the hell's going on? Do you know how mad he is?"
     "Bev, I need you to listen. Don't ask questions. Please?"
     "We found your DNA. Why did we find your DNA? What were you doing at the barn, Will? Bleeding out all over the floor?"
     "I have to leave. I have to get away from here. It's not what you think, okay? Nothing," he swallowed hard, "nothing is what I thought it was. Everything's going so wrong. I have to leave."
     "Hey, Will, it's okay." Her voice softened. "We can figure things out. I'm sure you have an explanation?"
     "I don't. I don't have anything anymore." He couldn't get this lump out of his throat. "I need you to do one small thing. I won't ask for anything ever again. Please?"
     "Depends. What's up?"
     "Can you make sure my dogs are okay?"
     There was a stunned silence on the other end, followed by a nervous laugh. "Your dogs?"
     "I can't come back. They need a good home."
     "Will, you can come back. It's going to be okay."
     "No. I'm either running, or I'm going to jail. Or I'm going to die. Either way, they need help. I need you to help them."
     Beverly was quiet for a very long time, so long that Will began to think he had lost connection. Finally, she spoke.
     "You're not going to die, Will. You don't have to die. You know we're all here for you. We can make this better."
     "Say it for me anyway. In case I never come home again, please take care of my dogs. Please?"
     "It won't come down to that. But if it does..I'll help them. You can count on me getting them homes."
     "Thank you." Will sighed in relief. "Thank you so much." He already felt better knowing that they would be alright.
     "But only if I can have the pug."
     He smiled. "That's Bacon. He loves bacon."
     "Good to know. Now talk to me--"
     "I have to go."
     Will hung up before she could respond. In one final act of defiance, he rolled down the car window and threw the phone onto the rainy highway.