WRATH: A Hannigram Fanfiction

30- Le Secret Qu'elle Guard

     Five years later
     Doctor Beverly Katz comes home to a pack of enthusiastic dogs. They wag their tails, pawing and jumping to grab her attention. She grins, giving them all six of them a friendly pat. Her wife, busy in the kitchen, calls out a greeting, and Katz stops by on the way to their bedroom to kiss her cheek. She has to stand on her toes to do it. The house smells rich and savory.
     In her bedroom, Beverly quickly sheds her suffocating outfit and puts on something that's actually made for humans. She throws her belt and watch into the second row dresser drawer, haphazardly slamming it shut before walking back into the kitchen.
     They eat together. They talk about their days and laugh, and Beverly admires the way her wife's eyes crinkle when she does so. The way her dark hair shines when she throws her head back. Her food is delicious.
     They lay in bed later that evening and watch something mindless on TV. Their room is decked with their accomplishments; Beverly's degrees, including her new PhD, and her wife's accolades for her music. The walls are covered with post-it notes, which are filled with affirmations from smiley faces to heartfelt poems.
     Beverly's wife is more focused on cuddling up to her than whatever is playing on the TV. Her gaze, however, is fixed below the TV. She is staring at the dresser, fixated on the silver knobs. Her wife nudges her, teasing her for zoning out, and they both laugh. She tries to forget.
     Beverly Katz has a note in her second row dresser drawer.
     Miss Katz,
     I hated to disappear without a goodbye. I believe you deserve more than that. I hope this may bring you closure.
     I take it that my name has been rather desecrated since Jack's death. I'm a bit of a hot commodity, I suppose. They found everything that was in my basement, and you know how that turned out. I won't shy from the truth. I killed those people, happily and with no regret. 
     Two things you should know is that I did not kill Jack, and they will never find me.
     Let me preface this by saying that this letter is for your eyes only. If you show this letter to anyone, I will know. If you speak of it, I will know. I will find out, and I will destroy all traces of it. I always find out, Miss Katz. Please employ the courtesy of keeping this to yourself. After all, your omission of vital evidence in Will's case has been kept under wraps.
     Have they held Will's funeral yet? Did you wear your best black? The casket was empty, remember. They never found his body. Have you ever considered that there was no body to be found? It is always important to be open-minded.
     In truth, Will is with me. We are sitting here together, in front of the fireplace. His head is in my lap, and he has fallen asleep. The firelight makes his face look so beautiful. He is such a flawless man. I'll have to get him into bed soon— we can't be on the couch all night. I may carry him.
     I will not reveal any details as to where we are, for obvious reasons. I will instead confess to you that I love him. I worship him. Every day he surprises me with his beauty, inside and out. He is ethereal. I would give the world for him.
     He will not sleep without me there to hold him. He falls to his knees in front of me and kisses my hands, telling me that I have saved his life. He loves me, no matter how little he can bring himself to say the words. It's difficult for him.
     I'd like for you to reminisce for a moment, and pinpoint the last time you saw Will smile. I'm sure he did not smile often. He does now. It's bright and joyful and it sends me into bliss. He smiles when he wakes up every morning, during every conversation we have, at night before he kisses me. A smile suits him.
     I love him, Beverly. I love him so, so much.
     Without you, I may not have him. For that, you deserve peace of mind. You do not have to mourn Will Graham anymore. He's alive. He's well. He says he misses you.
     Your actions will not be forgotten. I send you my genuine best.

-Doctor Hannibal Lecter

     The letter is dated the week after Jack Crawford died. The week after they killed him, the news said. Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter, cold-blooded murderers. If Hannibal is telling the truth, however, which she finds hard to believe, then he wasn't a participant at all. She doesn't know how to feel about that possibility.
     Beverly has never shown the letter to anyone before. She keeps it hidden underneath the second dresser drawer, taped to the bottom of the frame. The other things that were in the envelope, however, had different fates.
     A photograph was in the envelope, paperclipped to a small piece of sketchbook paper. The paper showed a sketch of Will, asleep peacefully on a soft pillow. The image is hauntingly realistic. The photograph is also of Will, caught in the middle of a hearty laugh. His face is bright and young, and he looks well-groomed.
     The other surprise was a pair of large feathers. They were like velvet: one black, one light grey. She had spent months behind closed doors running dozens of tests, and she could never find the species that they came from. They weren't fake— no synthetic material— but it seemed that they weren't exactly real, either. There wasn't a creature in the world she could match them to.
     She keeps the photo in her wallet, hidden behind receipts. She burned the sketch. As for the feathers, she gently tied them together with twine and released them into the wind.
     She was living in her apartment at the time she got the letter, and she has yet to find out how or why Hannibal was able to send it to her. Every possibility is scarier than the next.
     She isn't sure what to do with the letter, even after many years. She's found some sort of sick comfort in its presence, knowing that it was so close to Will. She likes the idea of her friend, mentally tortured for years on end, sleeping peacefully with someone he loves.
     She knows they're evil. The evidence tells her so. They had killed Jack Crawford together and brutally cannibalized his body. Will had killed Nick Boyle, Elliot Budish, and Hobbs, and Hannibal's kill count was thought to be in the triple digits. No one had suspected a thing, not even her. She'd spoken to him. Been alone with him so many times...had he considered killing her after she found that evidence against Will? She doesn't like to think about it.
     She should have turned the letter in, should have turned in useful evidence. She figures, though, that it was better to be on Hannibal's good side. She likes her life right now. She likes thinking of Will, face lit up with warm light, opening his eyes and smiling. In bed, being held and cherished.
     Beverly Katz decides to go to bed. She is held and cherished, too. That is enough for her.
     She dreams of two stars that dance together.