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They dressed in silence in their train compartment.
As Will pulled the suit jacket over his shoulders, Hannibal beckoned him closer. Will moved to stand before him so Hannibal could straighten the knot of his tie and smooth the lines of his suit.
Will smiled. “Who needs a mirror when you have your reflection by your side?”
Hannibal tilted his head and pursed his lips. “I do reflect you, Will, but only as much as you reflect me.”
“We are each other’s reflections. But where does it begin? The object reflected can’t be its own reflection.”
Hannibal raised his eyes to Will’s. “And why not? Face two mirrors against each other, and who can say the untold depths they will reflect.”
“It’s impossible to tell,” Will replied. “Not unless there’s something else to be reflected infinite times over. Something between them.”
Hannibal’s face broke into a smile and he met Will's gaze. His eyes were warm. Will’s were confident. Hannibal cradled his palm against the back of Will’s head, drawing him in so their faces were nearly touching.
“Are you ready?” he whispered.
“Yes.”
The two men moved confidently together down the corridor of the train. The way was narrow, and Will waked in front, with Hannibal just behind him and to his right, looking past his shoulder. They didn’t speak to each other but the space between them was charged. No one else was out, and they moved quickly toward the lounge car, the lights overhead dimmed for night and alternately casting their faces in warm glow and dark obscurity.
When they reached the car, they split up wordlessly. Hannibal made for the bar, while Will sat himself facing the window in a leather wingback chair. In the chair adjacent was a man in his late fifties, balding, his face the worn face of a businessman who’s been doing business longer than he’d like to.
“Beautiful night,” said Will, gazing through the window into the darkness.
The man made a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat.
Will turned to look at him. “Traveling for business??
“Yep.” The man kept looking forward. He was not at all interested in being engaged with.
“I only ask,” Will pushed, “Because I noticed you on your cell phone this afternoon. Outside my compartment. It sounded like an important business call.”
The man finally turned to look at him. “What are you getting at?”
Will stared steadily into his eyes, smiling slightly. “You were out there for two hours. Talking very loudly on your phone. Then you left. But then you came back again. Only 45 minutes that time, but louder. A lot louder.”
The man turned to fully face Will. “What the hell is this? Is this a confrontation?”
“Think of it as a service,” Will said, his smiling widening.
“Are you trying to scare me?” The man drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair. “Yeah, I talked on my phone outside your room. You couldn’t take your nap. I’m really fucking sorry. Is that enough?”
Will tilted his head to the side, considering. “We’ll see,” he said.
The man shivered slightly, involuntarily. Then he stood up. “Fucking asshole,” he muttered.
He stalked out of the lounge. The door was held open for him by a polite man in a suit, who followed immediately after him.
By the time Will got to their compartment, Hannibal already had the man subdued. His forearm squeezed the sides of his windpipe together, keeping the air out and the sound in. The compartment was small and had been easy to line with plastic sheeting. Hannibal stood in the center of the room, feet firmly planted and braced against the movement of the train. He held the man upright against his front. Will stepped forward, drawing the knife from the pocket of his suit. As he flipped the blade open, he saw Hannibal’s eyes glint. This scene had played out before, but now there was someone between them. Some thing.
Will thrust his hand forward, burying the knife to the hilt in the man’s stomach. The man jerked, his eyes fluttering, but he made no sound. Will wrenched his arm to the right, tearing through flesh and everything beneath. Blood gushed out, spilling down the man’s legs and spraying across Will, drenching his suit. The man’s limbs twitched, then he stilled. The remainder of the life that Hannibal had been squeezing out of him tumbled through the gash in his stomach to the floor. With the man’s now limp body between them, Will and Hannibal were close, but not touching.
Will looked up. Hannibal’s eyes were locked on his, and as Will met his gaze he could feel the searing heat of their connection. They held this pose, unspeaking, breathing in the iron of the air and the charged particles of each other’s presence.
They disposed of the body an hour later. They had harvested a few choice organs and put them in a cooler. Will had casually floated the idea of jamming the man’s phone into his trachea. Hannibal had glowed with pride, but had Will backed down, saying the gesture had a bit too much of a signature to be safe.
They were on the run, after all.
After the harvest they stripped out of their ruined suits, wrapped them in plastic, and stashed them in a duffel bag. They would burn them the next day. Their victim they carefully rolled up in his own plastic drop cloth. Checking that the coast was clear, they hauled the body to the open air deck (right next to their compartment that they had insisted on and paid extra for) and waited just a few minutes for the moment they knew would come, when the train passed over a bridge spanning a steep gully. They hoisted the wrapped body onto the railing and unceremoniously pushed it off. It made no sound and left no trace -- it was simply there one moment and not the next.
Their burden gone, the air suddenly felt lighter. Anyone could wander onto the deck and just see two men out taking the air. They were innocent again.
Will leaned his forearms on the railing and let out a long sigh. Hannibal turned sharply to him.
“Will.” He rested his hands on the railing but stayed standing, back straight, staring into the darkness flashing by. “You were exquisite tonight.” He paused, opened his mouth, paused again. Finally the words came.
“If this were to be the only kill we shared, the memory alone would sustain me for the rest of my life.”
Will looked up at him. “You think I want to quit.” he said quietly.
Hannibal inclined his head slightly, unblinking -- not a nod so much as an acknowledgment. “A different thing altogether, killing an innocent. In cold blood. Tell me, Will. Now that the blood of our conversationalist is cold -- cold in his veins and cold and crusty around the beds of your fingernails -- do you feel the same exhilaration? The same thrill?” He turned finally to face Will. “Or are you having second thoughts?”
“You want to know how I feel now?” Will straightened, reached for Hannibal’s hand, and held it hovering over his own chest. Hannibal remained still, though his eyes widened.
“When I stalked our victim in the lounge, when I cut open his gut, when I sliced through the tissue holding his liver in place, my pulse was slow. I was calm.”
“You were euphoric.” Hannibal’s eyes searched his face, trying to find the meaning behind this revelation.
Will nodded. “How does my pulse feel now?” He pressed Hannibal's hand to his heart.
“Elevated,” Hannibal whispered.
“It’s not guilt.” Will shook his head slowly. “It’s not remorse. It’s… fear.”
“Fear is a natural response to stimuli out of your usual sphere -- it’s an evolutionary holdover that-”
"It’s not the act that has me scared,” Will interrupted. “That was… it was beautiful. What I’m afraid of are the repercussions.” He squeezed Hannibal’s fingers that were resting against his chest. “What if they catch us?” he whispered.
Hannibal drew in a breath sharply. He exhaled softly on Will’s name. “You never cease to amaze me.” he said. He freed his hand and rested both on Will’s shoulders, holding him close but far enough away that he could see into his eyes. “You enjoyed our hunt.”
Will’s eyes shone. “I loved it.”
“But you’re convinced it won’t last.”
“We took organs. Even if we just dumped the body, it’s still a signature. When the police find it-”
“If.” Hannibal interrupted. “Only if.”
“If they do, they might recognize us in it. And-”
“And we will be be on a different continent, with different names.” Hannibal smoothed his hand down the side of Will’s face, through his hair.
“But what about the next time? If we’re not careful enough…” Will paused to gather his thoughts and his breath. “I struggled so hard against this. For years. I gave myself up, and I found myself. It’s too great an exchange. It’s too much to lose.”
“Will.” Hannibal took Will’s head in both hands. “They will never find us. I promise that to you.”
“They’re looking.”
“And they will look. There is one person in the world who I believe could catch me. And he’s right here with me.” Hannibal pulled Will close.
“I did catch you,” Will murmured into his shoulder.
“I turned myself in.”
“Because of me.”
“Yes, Will. Because of you.” Hannibal pushed him back to arm's length. “Do you see? I lived as I am in plain sight for 25 years. I know precisely how to avoid apprehension, how to deflect even the slightest suspicion. The only reason I am not still living that life is that I encountered you. I relinquished my freedom because without you I was no longer free. Now that you are here with me, behind the veil, do you think there exists a force that could wrench you away from me?”
“But if something happens-”
“Nothing will happen, Will. And if it does, then we will die,” he said matter-of-factly.
Will smiled slightly in spite of himself. “Because we can’t live without each other?”
“I think we’ve more than proved that theory already. And because there is no way we can be separated in death.”
Will raised his eyebrows. “You believe in an afterlife?”
“As a rule I don’t. But I believe that our connection is strong enough to build one for us.”
Will leaned forward again into the embrace. “I’m afraid that theory will wind up being tested sooner rather than later. How confident are you?”
“Very." Hannibal reached up to stroke the back of Will's head. "But Will, this happiness is yours to lose. I won’t be caught unless I want to be, and I have more reason now than ever to value my freedom. If something goes wrong, it will be because you’ve willed it.”
Will sighed.
“You’ve given in so much to your desires, to your needs. Give in to this final thing, Will.”
“You mean let myself reflect your peace as well as your passion.”
“Yes. You have become, Will. Let the euphoria of your becoming radiate through your veins.”
Hannibal bent down to press his ear against Will’s chest. He felt the evenness of the rhythm, and he smiled. He clutched Will tighter. “We are our only enemies, Will. Nothing else is great enough to be our unmaking.”
Will lifted his arms and wrapped them behind Hannibal’s back, up to his shoulders. “Not even divine intervention could bring us down now.”
Hannibal’s arms tightened. “Only each other.”
Will nodded, crushing his face into Hannibal’s hair. “Only each other,” he whispered.