WRATH: A Hannigram Fanfiction

13- La Folie

     The scene at the motel was brutal.
     There were two bodies kneeling at the foot of the bed, their hands folded in prayer like churchgoers. A jagged line had been cut down the center of their spines, and the skin had been pulled upwards by cables to spread like wings. Hannibal studied the layers of tissue and bone inside the dorsal cavity, noticing the trails of dried blood running down their thighs and to their feet. The meat, after being exposed to air for so long, had turned an odd shade of pinkish grey that wasn't at all appealing.
     It was certainly cruel, even by Hannibal's standards. It was nice to look at, he admitted, but it had an amateur air about it. Something feral, something afraid. A panicked dog rather than a cold, preying wolf.
     Will's lip was trembling as he stared wide-eyed at the scene. It was the two of them alone in the room, and Will was refusing to speak. Eventually, he closed his eyes and took a small step forward, and Hannibal prepared to enter Will's mind.
     At first, there was just the black cavity of Will's brain, but a vivid scene was quickly constructed to overcome it. They were still in the motel room, this time with the victims' wounds more fresh and the blood less dry. It was nighttime, as Hannibal could see out the window, but the room was lit by the bright glow of flame. Will stood in front of the two carcasses, whose heads were now blazing orange. The room grew hot and suffocating, the warmth becoming too much to handle.
     I see all of your sin congregated here.
     Will reached out to place his hand over the fire. At his touch, the flame died out, useless against his power. It made both him and Lucifer smile, and their roguish grins created a much softer light that made the room peaceful.
     You were doomed, but I have saved you. I've erased your imperfections. I allow you to become angels, and you are pure again.
     Will moved forward and climbed onto the bed, laying back against the headboard. He stared at the angels in front of him. His gaze was almost on Lucifer, but not quite. He was too lost in himself.
     All I ask is that you pray over me. His thoughts were desperate. Pray for my salvation. Cure me of my ailments. Please, please, please.
     Make me an angel. Make me into something like you.
     The words were bullets. Lucifer nearly stumbled backwards, a deep sadness settling inside of his soul and dimming its light. Out of every moment so far, this was likely the most harrowing to him; as foolish as it sounded, it was only then that he realized how terribly in love he was. It was after he'd heard those words, hearing Will's pleas once more. It had struck him that seeing Will suffer was the absolute worst thing in the world.
     Lucifer took a step forward. He couldn't help himself. He was so deeply moved by this man, this mortal being that he could take down in a snap of his fingers— and it was terrifying.
     When he moved just a centimeter, Will's head suddenly snapped up in his direction. Upon seeing him, pure shock entered Will's eyes, and he scrambled backwards to get away from him. The two creations in front of Will scattered away, mere tricks of the light. They were alone again, and Will looked so, so amazed.
     For the first time, Will saw something that Lucifer didn't. There was a joyous glint in his blue eyes.
     "What do you see, Will?" Lucifer asked, curious. "What do you see?"
     The image of the motel room was soon replaced with a soft glow. Their surroundings melted away like candle wax, succumbing to white beams of sunlight and the fog of cumulus clouds.
"It's...it's really happening." Lucifer caught a glimpse of tears brimming in Will's eyes. "You're here!"
Lucifer stared at him in surprise. "I...yes. Yes, I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere."
But then he remembered where he was. He wasn't supposed to be here, and neither was Will. Will could see this, too; he was seeing every second of it. He was possibly the first living soul to ever catch a glimpse of Heaven. But how?
     "I can finally be an Angel." Will smiled. He looked like a starstruck child. "I did the right thing. I finally did the right thing."
     He reached out to touch Lucifer, and the moment his fingers brushed the alabaster skin, the scene around them vanished. They were back in the dark, dingy motel room, breathing in the scent of decomposition. Hannibal was now outside of Will's mind, weighed down by human flesh.
     Will took in their surroundings, the joy on his face quickly fading into dread. "No," he said quietly, "no, no, no... come back. I was..."
     He brought his knees to his chest and began to sob. Hannibal, fear climbing up his chest, ran to the door and called out for Jack.
     The door burst open, Jack and a few other officers rushing into the room.
     "It's not fair. It's not fair!" Will cried. He looked up at Hannibal. His face was streaked with tears, but there was rage in his eyes. "Take me back! Take me back now!"
     "Will, what the hell are you doing?" Jack asked, moving closer to the bed. Various officers tried to call out to Will, asking what was wrong with him and if he was okay. Hannibal resisted to urge to smite all of them right there and then— they were such a nuisance.
     "You're supposed to be helping me!" Will pointed an accusing finger at Hannibal. "Let me be who I'm supposed to be!"
     He wanted to go back to Heaven. Hannibal was heartbroken by the realization that they could never go back. Will would never experience that again.
     "I just want to be happy! I was happy!"
     "Will, what are you talking about?" Jack shook Will's shoulder, to which Will jerked away.
     "Who is Will? Stop calling me that!"
     Wait. Hannibal froze.
     This was what Jack was talking about when they'd first discussed Will's issues. He was completely lost in the vision. He had no idea who he was— this wasn't the same man who confessed to enjoying his company, who had held out his hand and trusted Hannibal to give him what he was promised.
     This wasn't Will. The idea of Will Graham had been completely erased; he was in the mind of the killer, lost in the maze with no way out. Once he noticed this, Hannibal immediately felt the urge to save him.
     Wondering if he could do something to help, Hannibal moved forward with the rest of the group, but Will's cries stopped him. "No! Don't come any closer! Stay away from me!"
     Hannibal drowned them out for a second, turning and whispering sternly to Jack. "He's lost. He doesn't know who he is."
     Jack looked utterly guilty, which gave Hannibal a sense of satisfaction. Jack should be afraid, pushing someone to the limit like this. What had he expected? Useless pig.
     Exasperated, Hannibal called the name of Beverly Katz, a scientist that he'd seen talking to Will on many occasions. She always seemed intelligent, quick to respond, and her face was only clinical when she turned to him. Hannibal liked that.
     "Sedative," Hannibal said quietly. "Do you have a sedative? Or even just a Valium?"
     Katz nodded, holding up a kit that she'd brought into the room. "Already planning on it." She popped it open and extracted the needle, which had somehow already been prepared and filled with medicine. Throughout all of this, Will was still thrashing and screaming about the Devil. Some officers had to grab onto him to stop him from striking out or running away.
     "You're prepared." Hannibal was impressed.
     "This isn't the first time this has happened," she admitted before taking off, injecting Will in the arm carefully but quickly. She rubbed little circles on the injection site with the tips of her fingers, working through medicine in. Will stared at her, his screams tapering off as the cloudiness in his eyes slowly began to clear. He blinked rapidly.
     "..Bev?"
     Both Katz and Hannibal sighed in relief. Katz patted him on the shoulder, saying something comforting to him. Will furrowed his brow.
     "I'm Will," he said. A few people in the room nodded along, with Jack going so far as to smile. What did he have to smile about? That one of his employees had saved his ass? Hannibal's upper lip curled for a moment.
     Jack moved closer like he was approaching a wild animal. "We're gonna get you some help, okay? You just..just get some rest." His fear was palpable, and his face fell even more once Will's legs began to give out from under him. The officers holding him up tightened their grip.
     Will looked directly into Hannibal's eyes, really noticing him for the first time, and gaped at him. "No," he said weakly. "Jack, wait. Wait. Hannibal.." The strength drained from him, and his head fell forward. The officers waited for a moment, making sure his body was completely still, before moving forward and carrying him towards the door. He was still muttering incoherently, halfway conscious.
     Hannibal followed them outside, hearing them converse about taking Will to the nearby hospital. A psychotic break like this couldn't be ignored. Beverly agreed to take him in the FBI ambulance, and a few people helped her load him into the stretcher in the back. Will was completely limp, a doll. Hannibal approached slowly, wanting to see him once more before the doors closed. He crouched next to the stretcher with the rest of the officers.
     "I did...no. Not mean to..didn't want.." Will stuttered, his words blending like watercolor. "I'm sorry. Don't be mad."
     Hannibal softened. "Will, I'm not mad. I'm not mad at all." It was true. Will could toss him into the flames of Hell to burn, and Hannibal would still love him. His affection was reckless and unbreakable.
     That seemed to be enough for Will. He shut his eyes and lay his head back. The rest of the people around him scattered away to their respective vehicles, and Hannibal reluctantly stood. He didn't want to leave Will behind. The only thing that urged him forward was knowing that the sooner he got out of the trunk, the sooner the ambulance could take Will to the hospital. He closed the doors as he walked out and fished in his pocket for his keys.
     "Hey," someone said, hardly audible over the commotion outside of the hotel. Hannibal ignored it, since he didn't know of anyone else who would want to talk to him.
     "Doctor Lecter." That got his attention. He perked up and saw Beverly leaning out of the driver's side window of the ambulance. Hannibal waited for her to bombard him with questions about the scene.
     Instead, she just gestured to the seat beside her with her head. "I've got a seat. Do you wanna ride with me and Will?"
     Hannibal didn't even have to consider it. He circled the vehicle and got into the passenger's seat, and Beverly began to drive.
     "Picked a good place to break down," she remarked. "Hospital's a quick ten minutes. Turn on the lights," she reached forward, flicking a switch that started up the ambulance sirens, "and I can make it eight." She frowned. "Are you okay?"
     The question jolted Hannibal. He couldn't remember the last time someone had asked him that so genuinely. "..Yes. I'm alright. Just shocked, I suppose. You were very calm under all that pressure in there— I'm endlessly grateful."
     "I care about Will a lot. I think he's a good person." She shrugged. "Just got a different mind. Always been a little different."
     "You said this has happened before? Will doesn't give me many details about his past, and I'm obviously not allowed to push."
     "Twice, actually. Once right before he left the field, and once about a month and a half ago. It was right when he saw the first Shrike girl, I think. It's the reason Jack wanted him to go to therapy."
     Hannibal leaned his head against the seat, sighing in frustration. "Jack just said he could get a little lost. He didn't tell me about psychotic breaks that require sedation."
     "Because that would make him look bad," Beverly replied, scorn in her voice. "He refused to hire an FBI-affiliated psychiatrist because none of them would approve for Will to work. Shouldn't that be a sign that Will might not be equipped for this? That already looks bad enough, and I'm sure you got onto him for that, so telling you the whole truth would make Jack look even worse."
     It was something she had likely been holding back for a while. Hannibal was stunned into an impressed silence. He nodded. "Obviously," Beverly said, "this conversation never happened, or Jack would have my ass on a platter."
     Hannibal couldn't help but laugh. "I despise Jack Crawford," he admitted. "That makes us even."
     "So does Will. I think Will has the most reason to, though." Her smile faded. "I don't know how much he expresses himself to you, but..he likes you. He likes you a lot."
     Hannibal's heart pounded in his chest. He felt warm inside. "Does he?"
     "He told me once that he likes the way you do things. Sometimes Jack will try to call him into the office and he'll completely refuse. He clears his entire schedule to meet up with you." She turned the lights off, approaching the parking lot. "Will's not that kind of person. I don't know what you've done, but it's working."
     "That..that makes me feel good." Hannibal  smiled as they pulled into the hospital dock. "That makes me feel really good."
     "So..we're both gonna protect him like our lives depend on it, right?" There was a lighthearted tone in her voice, but her face was serious. Hannibal knew that she was a person who truly meant what she said.
     He nodded. "Absolutely," he said, and he meant that, too.