WRATH: A Hannigram Fanfiction

14- L'hôpital

     Will was moved into a hospital room, where nurses changed him into a gown. People in scrubs ran in and out to check his vitals, and eventually someone ushered Hannibal and Jack out into the waiting room. It was uncomfortable, to say the least; the day's events had clearly shaken Jack up, and Hannibal was too angry to say anything.
     The small town that the hospital was in meant that Will was one of the only people to look after. A doctor found them soon after his admission, and the expression on his face was not optimistic. Hannibal had felt nerves churning inside of him.
     "This is more than just a mental issue. He's completely dehydrated," the doctor told them. "And I only see blood sugar this low in diabetic patients. Is he diabetic?"
     It was discovered that Will had hardly had anything to eat or drink in days. The only thing in his system was aspirin, swallowed dry. They attached him to an IV.
     Beverly decided that the best way to help Will at the moment was to go take care of his dogs. She moved quickly, letting no one get in her way. In minutes, she had gotten Will's address from Jack and took off towards the parking lot, where a coworker had dropped off her car.
     "It only makes sense, since he recognized me first. Be back in an hour or so," she told Hannibal on the way out, winking. "Take care of him."
     With some convincing, the doctor let Hannibal enter Will's room. He didn't even turn to ask Jack if he wanted to come.
     The medicine in his veins had Will looking much better in just minutes. The color returned to his face, his breathing and heart becoming more and more steady. Hannibal sat in for half an hour, anxiously watching Will as he slept, before finally deciding that he'd had enough. He couldn't let Jack get away with something like this.
     Jack was frantically answering messages on his phone, likely trying to sort out the whole mess. Hannibal felt a spark of hatred.
     "You," he said, causing Jack to look up, "are a complete fool."
     Bewildered, Jack blinked. "I'm sorry?"
     "How many people have told you that Will might not be prepared for a job like this? How many people have warned you? How many times does your little pet have to break down before you finally call it quits, Jack?!" He stabbed his finger into Jack's chest. "How many times has Will begged for a way out, and you don't let him quit?"
     It was clear that Jack wasn't used to being spoken to this way. He stammered out a few words, flustered, but Hannibal interrupted him.
     "I would say that I hope this is a wake-up call, but it must not have been the first two times. What is wrong with you, Jack? What makes you put work over this man's life?"
     To his surprise, Jack didn't even try to respond. He just hung his head, staring at the floor like a whipped dog. Hannibal stepped back, trying to get the red to seep out of his vision before continuing.
     "Will is a very strong man. He will make it through this. But I don't know about the next time."
     "He wants to," Jack muttered. "He says he can do it. He never says he wants to quit."
     "He doesn't have to say it for it to be true. He's scared of not having a purpose, and that's why he stays."
     "If you go in there and talk to him, you'll see. He'll want to get back to the case immediately."
     "Because it's all he has." Hannibal swallowed his angriest words, refusing to lose his cool too much in front of Jack. "Will has nothing else going for him. He's trapped. He's lonely. And all he has are ghosts. Ghosts, and a man who dares to call himself his friend while putting his life in danger."
     Jack suddenly stood from his chair, giving Hannibal a sharp look. He stared for a while, letting Hannibal believe they were about to fight, before shouldering Hannibal to the side and pushing his way into Will's room. "Well," he said brightly, giving Hannibal a pointed glare over his shoulder. "Look who's awake."
     The door closed before Hannibal could respond. His entire body tensed, and his nails dug into his palms. He was nearly shaking with anger. Who did Jack think he was, getting to see Will first? Will was his.
     He wanted to see Jack Crawford suffer. He could blink and send the man into insanity. He didn't want any pitiful, miserable human to think they could play with him like that.
     Jack Crawford was going to die. He wasn't sure when, but as soon as it was convenient, his life had to come to an end.
     Hannibal waited patiently in the same spot for a few minutes. All he had to do was think about the life that he and Will were bound to have together, and the relief was enough to completely pacify him. Soon, he realized. It would be so, so soon. The murder of Nicholas Boyle had opened up so many new possibilities. Will had taken a crucial step.
     Jack emerged with a cold expression. "He wants to talk to you," he said.
     Hannibal let himself smirk. Of course Will wanted him instead of Jack. Through methodical manipulation, Hannibal was Will's one and only comfort. Hannibal wanted it that way; he wanted a world where the two of them could exist together, blend together, and neither of them would ever want anything else but each other. They would be blissful, each so immersed in the other that there would no longer be defined lines between them. Their atoms would meld together until they were one beautiful thing.
     He couldn't have that world without solving this issue first, though.
     Will was lost in his thoughts, staring at the bedsheets, when Hannibal entered. He looked slightly more gaunt than usual, his skin paler, but he was still so beautiful that it nearly floored Hannibal. Another rush of pure love made his cheeks flush, terrifying him.
     "Will. I'm glad to see you're awake."
     Will opened his mouth, but he began coughing before he could speak. He avoided eye contact.
"Before you say anything," Hannibal sat down, "just know you're not too far from home. Ms. Katz left a few minutes ago to go feed your dogs."
Will smiled; it was a ray of sunshine in the bleak room. "Did she really?"
"She wouldn't stop bragging that she was the first person you recognized. She said she wanted to help. I like her."
"She's great. Always been good to me." That was another point for Beverly. Will could have one little comfort, he supposed— Beverly wasn't going to get in their way.
     The two lapsed into tense silence, which confused Hannibal, but then it hit him how their last exchange had ended. Will was scared of him, he remembered with dread. That had to be fixed immediately.
"I'm not angry with you, Will. I'll start with that."
     Will stared at him. "I want to know what I saw."
     "And what makes you think that I would have the answer to that?"
     "You were there. I saw you." Goosebumps emerged on his arms. "But not human. You were in my head."
     "And where were we?" Hannibal wanted him to figure this out for himself. To possibly remember something important in his efforts.
     "It was..blue. Blue and white, and the sun was out. I think there were clouds?"
     "But where were we?"
     "...It was Heaven, wasn't it? That's why it felt so light? So good?"
     Hannibal nodded. "Yes. You saw Heaven, Will."
"I know that I saw you, and that I really, really wanted something. I wanted it so badly that it made my chest hurt. But when it reached for you, it all went away, and I was completely lost. I didn't know my name. I didn't know who I was."
"Has this happened before?"
"Not like this," Will replied, his voice so soft that Hannibal thought he'd imagined it. "I've gotten lost, but I've never forgotten who I am."
     Hannibal leaned in even closer. This was their secret, their memories to share between themselves only. "What did you see, Will?"
"It was normal at first. I was the killer, and I saw how sinful my victims were. I made them angels so I could save them from their sin, and in return they would pray for me." He looked haunted. "He's sick. Something's wrong with him, and he's hoping the angels will pray for him. Make him better."
"So you were made aware of their sins? You could see them?"
"Yes. And then I prayed...and I ended up in Heaven." He tapped the bed frame. "That's what I wanted. I wanted to be like them." He closed his eyes. "Like you."
     "Like me?"
     "Not killing. But I wanted a body like you have. I thought it was the only way to make myself happy."
     "And when you didn't get it, your brain regressed. You broke down. You lost yourself."
     "Yeah. Yeah, I guess so."
     "There are downsides to this body, if it makes you feel better."
     Will raised an eyebrow. "Like?"
     Hannibal hesitated. This was the last secret he had, the one thing that was likely keeping Will from running away. He didn't want to give it up; even if he had to erase Will's memory afterward, he would never forget the initial reaction, the inevitable horror and disgust.
     "Can't think of any?" Will quipped in the silence.
     "Will." Hannibal reached for Will's hand. He lowered his voice. "You know about what I do. About the murders."
     His face fell. "...Of course."
     "I don't do it just for recreation. There are ulterior motives behind it."
     "Okay."
"Food on earth doesn't satiate me," he explained. "I can fill this body up with normal food, but not my true one. And so—"
     "No." Will's eyes widened. "No, wait. Holy shit."
     "I'm sorry." He didn't know what else to say.
     "You're eating them?" His face paled.
     "Yes. It's the only way for me to stay alive."
     It took a while for him to figure that out. He'd never been hungry before the Fall. Heaven was Paradise: there was no hunger, no thirst, no exhaustion or boredom or pain. After he Fell, there was a perpetual hole inside of him. He ate the same foods that humans did, and the taste was nice, but it was like they never got the chance to nourish him. His host body would be filled to the brim, but his Soul would be famished.
     He had spent his early years watching animals hunting their prey, devouring their meals, and eventually he decided to try it for himself. He was an immortal, capable of so many powerful things; what would it hurt to try something extreme at least once? Humans were nothing but animals.
     His first bite was ecstasy. It filled something inside of him that he didn't even know had been empty. He could finally move without being sluggish, he could finally think without fog in his mind. It patched the hole and blessed him with vitality.
     God must have expected him to suffer, to be cursed with eternal hunger. He never expected Lucifer to find a loophole so extreme.
Will was still shaking his head. "Jack's been to dinner at your house. Doctor Bloom has—"
    "I don't give the valuable meat to anyone but myself. Otherwise it would be a waste."
"It's the only thing that works?"
     "Yes. Otherwise I cannot muster the energy to continue. I become very weak if I go a few months without it. I've tried every other way, I swear—"
     "Stop." Will rubbed his face, sighing. "Stop."
     "I know this upsets you."
     "I don't care." The answer surprised Hannibal. "I really don't care anymore. I've seen it all. I've heard it all. What difference does this make? What difference does any of this make when I'm working with the Devil, when I'm losing myself, when," he lowered to a whisper, "when I've killed someone?"
     He leaned his head back, and Hannibal saw tears brimming in his eyes. "What's wrong with me, Hannibal? What's happening to me?"
     "Nothing is wrong with you."
     "Clearly there is. You just told me something absolutely terrible, but I don't care. It doesn't bother me anymore. It's like...it's like nothing bothers me, when it comes to you."
     "I think you're simply overwhelmed. You've got so much impossible stimuli being thrown at you. Your reality has been disrupted. Your mind has decided to pick its battles."
     "Tell me what's happening."
     "I just did."
     "No, Hannibal. I'm changing. And I think you know exactly what's happening, and I want you to tell me." His voice was laced with desperation. "I need you to tell me."
     Hannibal shook his head. "Will...that is an answer that you are not ready for yet. I'm sorry."
     "I don't get it." He grabbed Hannibal's forearm. "I don't understand."
     "You will."
     "But—"
     "You will. I promise. But not now."
     Defeated, Will let go and slumped back against the pillows. Hannibal reached for him and hugged him tightly, and Will let him.
     "We're going to get through this," he said.
     Will nodded silently.