WRATH: A Hannigram Fanfiction

12- Le Repas

     Hannibal had been able to calm his hunger for a long while, distracting himself by talking to Will and immersing himself in the Shrike case. But now, the day's events had all culminated into a perfect storm: watching Will with the blood on his hands, a smile on his face; their conversation in the car afterwards, Hannibal disclosing more of his past and unearthing old wounds that he thought were gone; watching Jack Crawford act like a bumbling idiot. His anger was bubbling over, his hunger insatiable.
     He had to kill.
     It saddened him that he couldn't put the body on display. He could certainly get away with it, but it would be too much of a distraction from the rest of Will's cases. The last thing he wanted was to draw attention away from the Shrike-- he knew that the Shrike case was where he could really reach Will. The display was the fun part of it all, his form of artistry. Sometimes, though, sacrifices have to be made for those you love.
     "Jack? It's Hannibal." A smile. Friendliness in his voice. "Are you free any night this week? I would love to have you over for dinner."
     He selected his target out of a large array of potentials, dialing the number on the card. He was an expert at pretending to be someone else, at luring someone in under the guise of something urgent or important. He liked to come up with the stories.
     "Don't I know you from somewhere?"
     His strong hands gripping the sides of the human's head. Hair brushing his palms. He twisted long past the comfortable point for the human body, relishing the satisfying snap of the neck bones. The body under him collapsing, limp in his arms. Driving home slowly and carefully, the body folded carefully in his trunk.
     Hours later, his suit was in the wash, Jack Crawford was at his door with a bottle of wine and a smile, and dinner was served.
     He always vowed to never waste valuable meat on unappreciative humans, but he had nothing else to prepare. It was a positive turn of events, however; watching Jack bite into the meat without knowing a single thing was such a gratifying sight. The pleasure it gave Hannibal was surprising to him.
     Perhaps giving the meat to humans was worth it. Occasionally, of course.
Then, a very-early-morning phone call.
"I liked killing Nicholas Boyle."
Hannibal smiled. The world was on his side tonight, it seemed.
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Hannibal told Will to come earlier than their normal time. He wanted as much time as possible to speak with him, and he didn't want to wait all day. Will seemed completely fine with missing a day in Quantico, since he'd basically given up his teaching job in favor of the cases. When Hannibal had asked who was covering his classes, he had only responded with an uninterested shrug. It was like the question had gone completely over his head.
When he arrived at the office that morning, it appeared as if he had been crying. His face was reddened, slightly puffed, and when he spoke his voice was thick. He sat down in the chair and hunched over, and he hadn't moved since.
"I just want to forget it all," he muttered. "I don't feel coherent anymore. I'm not here."
"You don't feel alive?"
"..I feel like I'm fading. I'm a ghost."
Hannibal stayed silent. In essence, Will was fading; slowly, his soul was being eaten away by the harshness of the world around him. Life after life after life of suffering wouldn't do his purity any good.
"I don't know how to explain it." Will stood, tearing at loose skin on his hands as he paced around. "I wake up, and I worry. I drive to work, and I worry. I worry when I'm at home, in the car, on the job, in the classroom..and then I go to bed, and I have nightmares, and I wake up and I get to do it all again!" He threw his hands up in a sort of surrender.
"What do you worry about?"
"Everything." He drew out every syllable of the word, emphasizing it. "I worry about everything."
He sucked in air through his clenched teeth as he pulled at a loose piece of skin. Pinpricks of blood emerged from the pink skin, and he buried his hand inside of his sleeve. Hannibal, unable to watch this anymore, decided to take action.
He approached Will, who watched him like a wary animal, and slowly took Will's hands in his. He cupped Will's injured fingers in his palms and concentrated, feeling his skin begin to heat up.
     "What are you— shit! Hannibal—" Will's face contorted in pain as his wounds singed.
     "Wait. I know it hurts, but just wait."
     Will tried to yank his hands away, but Hannibal's grip was too strong. It only took about fifteen seconds to finish the job, after which Hannibal finally let go. Will looked down at his hands and let out a soft gasp, stepping backward.
     They were completely healed. No sign of any cuts, scabs, or loose skin. They looked as good as new.
     "How did you do that," Will whispered, blinking. "How the fuck did you do that."
     "It doesn't matter how. What matters is that they're better."
     "But—"
     "I fixed them. The problem is solved."
Will took the hint. "...Thank you."
"Of course." Hannibal nodded. "Now, when I revealed the truth about myself to you, you begged me to leave Abigail alone. You thought I intended to kill her, and you offered yourself to be taken in her place. Were you hoping that I would kill you?"
Will's face flushed. "I thought...I don't know. If you tried, I would have let you." 
"You find yourself wanting to die sometimes."
"..Yeah." He was so defeated, so sad. It killed Hannibal to see his beloved so unhappy.
"The world is much less interesting without you in it, Will. Besides, we have a deal to finish." He forced a smile onto his face to make the statement less intimidating. "You're not going anywhere on my watch." 
Will ran his thumb over his healed fingers. "I only get to relax in my sleep anymore," he said, "and that's just because of you."
"Do you feel peaceful when you sleep?"
"Mhm. I almost want to say that you did too good of a job." He made a sound between a laugh and a sob. "I dread the moment my body wakes up. I like the quiet. I like the dark."
"No one can hurt you there."
     "I mean, I guess. I don't know. God, I'm tired."
"My goal is to help you find a way to feel safe. I want you to enjoy your waking life, not just the one you have when you're unconscious. I want you to live comfortably."
"When that's over, do you leave? Will the ghosts come back?"
"The ghosts will never be back. What I've gifted you will remain for the rest of your life." Manipulating Will's mind like that was something that couldn't be undone. He couldn't bring those girls back even if he wanted to. He could create new ones, if he really wanted to torture Will, but he didn't ever want to do that. "And I don't plan on vanishing— I like this body too much to waste it. I didn't just pop into this world for you. This body is older than yours, actually." It was all mere coincidence, a complete brush of Fate.
"I still feel like I'm being haunted."
"Does Nicholas Boyle haunt you?"
"Killing Nicholas made me see things differently. A veil lifted for just a moment."
"What lies beyond the veil that you couldn't see before?"
"Everything was brighter. Too bright. Loud and overwhelming and blinding." Will shuddered. "I felt..a rush of energy."
"It brought you power." Hannibal knew the feeling. It was something he felt all the time; he saw this world so much differently from the way humans did. All of his colors were brighter, all of his noises were louder, all of the scents and tastes were more luxurious and refined. He didn't just live, he thrived on Earth, and it all started once he brought an end to the lives that ruined his.
He liked that Will had caught a glimpse of the same thing.
"I've never felt powerful before."
"You enjoyed it."
Will didn't answer.
"When I met you, Will, I could see it in your eyes: you were famished. Now that you've had a taste of killing, its flavor will never leave your tongue. It lingers now, as it always will. Tell me, what did it taste like then?"
Will's mouth twisted in disgust. "Bitter and rotten. I wanted to wash it out of my mouth in any way I could."
He frowned. "And now?"
"..It's aftertaste has hit. There's a slight sweetness."
     Will had already begun to scratch at himself again. Hannibal took his wrist.
"There's nothing to be ashamed of," Hannibal said. "You've delivered justice. You've administered your revenge for what happened to Katie. You saw parallels there."
"I'm no better than him."
"As far as we know, Cassie Boyle didn't try to choke her brother to death." He gave Will a reassuring look. "As I told you, thoughts are never criminal. You enjoyed killing Nicholas Boyle."
"I did," Will whispered in reply. Hannibal nodded, encouraging him. "I..I liked killing him."
Yes. Good. You are doing such a good job, Will. It took a lot of effort for Hannibal to hold back his smile.
"Your first step to peace is to accept that. You cannot berate yourself for what's already come and gone." He felt unspoken words hanging between them. "Tell me again, Will: what do you worry about?"
Will's words came out slowly. "I worry that the rest of the world can see inside of me, and they can see something horribly, horribly wrong. I feel like everyone knows what I've done, even though only we were there."
Will felt endlessly watched. He didn't like to be seen, because he thought that what was inside was ugly. "That's why you avoid eye contact."
"I hate feeling like someone's looking into my soul." On cue, he shifted his gaze away. "What do you see in me, Hannibal? Honestly?"
     Tears. A pair of blood-soaked wings, festering underneath your skin and tearing it open. This is not your body. This is not your body.
"Hannibal?"
"Potential," Hannibal finally responded. "Endless potential."
The trill of a cell phone interrupted their conversation. Will flushed, reaching into his pocket and sighing once he saw the name on the screen.
"I'm going to just say it now: if he tries to get me to go to fucking Minnesota again, don't let me go."
Hannibal smiled in response, waving for him to answer and dismissing him. Will put the phone on speaker again, which Hannibal liked; he liked being apart of the conversation. He liked that Will trusted him to listen.
"I got something completely unrelated to the Shrike, if you're up for it," Jack instantly said. "Motel near Wolf Trap. You can go right home after, since it seems you're not keen on showing up to work." There was a sharpness to his tone, like a scolding parent. Hannibal caught Will rolling his eyes.
"..Sure," Will agreed. "Since it's right nearby. I'm with Hannibal right now, though." He liked hearing his name come out of Will's mouth. It fit nicely on his tongue.
"He's welcome to come, too, if he wants."
Will looked to Hannibal, who shrugged in agreement. What else did the Devil have to do? At least this would be interesting. At least he could spend time with Will.
Jack sent the location to Will, who then passed it onto Hannibal's cell phone. Hannibal agreed to follow Will for the hour and a half drive, and they could go their separate ways once they were finished at the scene. Hannibal had already cancelled his other patients for the day, so he was ready.
"I look forward to watching you work again," he said as they exited the office into the cold February air. Will halfheartedly raised his eyebrows and held his keys in his bandaged hand.
"I don't want to do this," he murmured. "I'm just making Uncle Jack happy."
"Where would you rather be? I'm not suggesting you back out now, as Jack can be a real terror when he's frustrated, but...where is a place you'd rather be?"
"Honestly?" Hannibal nodded. "Here. I'd rather be here."
He turned and walked towards his car, not giving Hannibal a chance to answer.