Chapter Text
"We couldn't leave without you."
Those words echoed in his head, bouncing off the walls of his skull until it felt like a swarm of bees had been let loose in his head. Dizzying. He'd barely registered Hannibal's hand on his face. Barely recognized his own voice when he breathed out the words:
"Do we still have time?"
Hannibal glanced towards Abigail, briefly. "If we hurry."
They had bags packed. Four large duffel bags, the first three containing clothes and the fourth containing things like cash, credit cards and passports. Then, they fled. Hannibal had it all planned out. From Baltimore, Maryland, they took the straightest route to Canada. Up through Pennsylvania, passing through New York, ending up a few miles away from a small customs station.
"Who should be the one to do it?" Abigail asked from the backseat.
"Shouldn't be you. Your face has been on the news and I have no idea if the news made it here or not," Will said, looking back.
"It shouldn't be you either. Your face was on the news, too." She hadn't said it with any malice, but the words stung all the same.
They looked to Hannibal.
"I mean, Jack's maybe put out a warning, but I doubt they'd recognize you," said Will.
"His voice." Abigail whispered. She'd been wringing her hands the entire drive.
"It's dark out. I won't say very much."
"Abigail, you and I will have to hide. One of us can take the backseat, the other can take the trunk."
"You should take the trunk, Will," Hannibal looking back at Abigail, "She's smaller, easier to cover with the bags."
They pulled off to the side of the road and got out, Abigail laid on the floorboards.
"I'm going to put these on top of you, okay? But we'll be through customs soon, and we'll put them back in the trunk." She nodded. The way she looked up at him threw him back to when she lay on the kitchen floor, bleeding out. She'd looked at Hannibal the same way.
Will slid into the trunk, pushing himself as far back as he could.
"I'll be back for you, Will." Something about the way he said it made Will shudder.
The next few minutes passed at a snail's pace. He could hear Hannibal's voice, muffled. Mostly what he could hear was the sound of his own breathing. It was deafening. In, out. His breath was shaking and he could see it fogging up in the confined space.
They got past customs in about five minutes but Hannibal kept driving for a few miles, until they were out of view and earshot. The car lurched to a stop, and Will could tell they'd pulled off the road. He waited until the trunk was opened and he was sure Hannibal was the one who'd opened it. When everyone was back in their seats, they drove until they found a small motel. There was a gas station about a block away; they'd stop for gas in the morning. Hannibal was getting ready to go in when Will stopped him.
"I'll go in."
"Are you sure?"
Will nodded. He got out, straightening his shirt and wiping his clammy hands on the front of his jeans.
The room seemed nice enough. He failed to mention the bullet hole he noticed by the head board. It was so quiet. He felt like he was going through the motions, existing partially out of his body, like a ghost. He wondered if the others felt like ghosts, too.
Hannibal insisted on showering, joining Will in bed about half-an-hour later. Abigail was asleep in the bed across from them. She had looked like she wanted to say something, but she rolled over without saying a word.
Will slept fitfully, waking up several times. One time, he woke up hanging off the side of the bed, his knee caught between the mattress and the frame. He tried getting back up, but found Hannibal had taken up the middle of the bed. He considered the floor for a minute, but decided against it quickly. He couldn't shake the thought of cockroaches crawling on his face. Laying eggs in his mouth and nose.
The next time he woke up it was becoming light outside. He was in the same spot he'd been last time. Abigail was awake, sitting up in bed. Her hair was wet.
"You showered?"
She gasped, startled, which woke Hannibal up. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong, he scared me. I didn't know he was awake."
He had sat up, his hands balled into fists. He'd been ready for a fight. He let them loose, spreading his fingers out over the sheets. He was quiet for a minute before asking, "Would you like a shower before we leave?"
"Yeah, actually. I won't be long." He was only gone about fifteen minutes. He was worried that if was gone too long, they'd leave without him.
When he came back, Abigail had made the beds.
"Uh, don't do that."
She looked to him for an explanation.
"If you make the beds, they may assume we didn't sleep in them and they might not wash the sheets."
"Oh." She pulled the covers back.
They were on the road in ten minutes. They stopped for gas at the station down the block and drove until they hit Nipigon.
"Where are we going?" Will asked. They'd been driving all this time and he'd never thought to ask that before now.
"Alaska. We're going to Alaska."
It made sense, going to Alaska. Towns were spread out and usually pretty small. Easy to get lost.
It was late now. The clock in the car said it was four-thirty, but he wasn't sure if the was accurate or not. He saw Hannibal shake his head a few times, trying to keep himself awake.
"Let me drive," Will whispered, trying not to wake Abigail. He looked over at Will, then to the stretch of road before them, seemingly weighing his options. He slowed to a stop in the middle of the road, seeing as there was nobody behind them. Will drove until they found a small gas station.
He looked first at Abigail, then to Hannibal. They were both asleep, Abigail laying across the backseat. Hannibal's arms were folded awkwardly in his lap, and the back of his hair stuck up from where he'd slid down in the seat.
He reached back and tapped Abigail awake, putting his finger to his lips. "If he wakes up," He whispered, "And I'm not back, tell him I've gone in to pay for food and gas."
She nodded.
He went in, keeping his head low. Wandering past the cups of instant ramen, he wondered if Hannibal would even eat it. He'd have to, because getting food the way he usually did wasn't an option. He got three of them, a bag of plain potato chips and three sodas. He paid for that and the gas with cash. When he got back to the car, Hannibal was still sleeping.
"I'm worried about him," Abigail whispered.
"Why? What's wrong?"
"I think he got hurt but he wouldn't tell me."
Will looked over. He hadn't noticed it before, but he was breathing funny. Short, shallow breaths in, ragged breaths out.
"Hey, wake up." He touched Hannibal's arm gingerly. He woke up slowly, looking around. Didn't recognize where he was.
"Is something the matter?"
"Are you okay? You were breathing funny."
"I've got-" He paused to sit up straighter in his seat, "Three broken ribs."
"Why didn't you tell me?" Abigail asked. Will couldn't tell if that was hurt or concern he heard in her voice.
He looked to the rearview mirror, catching her eyes. "I didn't want to worry you."
She let out a dissatisfied puff.
"You should have at least told me," Will said, lowering his voice.
"What would have been the point?"
Will bit the inside of his cheek. What would have been the point?
"Did you pack any medical supplies?"
He nodded. "In the bag with the money."
"Okay, we're going to drive until we find the nearest motel. Then we'll go from there."
"Does he need a doctor?"
"You forget that I am a doctor, Abigail."
The next motel was a bit nicer than the last one. It was just outside Edmonton. No bullet holes in the walls.
"Do you want me to leave?" Abigail asked meekly.
"No, this shouldn't be too gruesome. Unless there's anything else I should know about?" The last part was directed at Hannibal, who shook his head. "This isn't like a broken leg," Will explained, hoping to calm Abigail, "This, you can't really set. Just need to make sure this is wrapped tightly enough."
"Can you breathe?" She asked Hannibal, nervously watching his face.
"Well enough."
Hannibal was the first to fall asleep, leaving Will and Abigail to aimlessly flip through channels. They finally settled on an inoffensive, brightly colored kid's show.
"I, uh, I missed you," He said slowly, quietly. He took his time getting the words out.
"I missed you too."
He wasn't sure, but he thought he heard a sniffle.
Will woke up, his head heavy. He had to peel the pillow away from his face.
"What time is it?"
"It's uhh, nine o'clock."
He rolled over, feeling each section of his spine pop. He wasn't sure if he had moved at all during the night. Hannibal was still asleep. He looked pale, his skin shiny with sweat.
"Hey. Hey, wake up. Come on."
It took a minute but he eventually woke up, looking around slowly. He was quiet as Will helped him into a sitting position and slipped his shirt off. He pulled the bandages back. Hannibal's chest and back were mottled with purple bruises and his skin was hot and swollen.
"You're running a fever."
He got a half-hearted "mmph" as a reply.
"We're staying here another day."
"Is that a good idea?" Abigail asked. She looked worried.
"It'll have to be. Find the news station."
The only thing on the news was a woman talking about a local charity and warnings to prepare for the coming winter. "See Abigail? The news hasn't even reached here." There was something insincere about Will's voice that he'd hoped had gone unnoticed.
"There are painkillers in the bag," Hannibal gestured vaguely.
Will brought them to him with a glass of water. He took it, nodding his thanks. The rest of the day was uneventful. Will and Abigail showered again, unsure of the next time they'd be able to.
Hannibal sat up, looking intent to make it to the bathroom.
"Where are you going?" Will asked, putting his hand out.
"I'm going to shower."
"Do you need help?"
Hannibal narrowed his eyes, for a fraction of a second. Will got the point.
"Well, let's check the news again."
"-Lecter. Officials suspect that retired FBI Special Agent Will Graham was kidnapped by Dr. Lecter. Nobody has seen nor heard from Graham since the night Lecter disappeared. We will continue to update you as information comes in..."
Huh. "Retired'. That was a nice way of putting it. "Disgraced" and "disowned" would be the terms he would have used.
"I keep forgetting that I'm dead." Her voice was just above a whisper, fragile and shaky.
"What did I miss?" Hannibal asked, his shirt draped over his shoulders. Will assumed raising his arms was too painful.
"We're famous," He let out a resigned sigh.
"Mmm. Shame they used that picture of you."
He couldn't decide if he was surprised by that comment or not.
"So, we're leaving tomorrow?" Abigail asked, twisting her hair.
"We're leaving now." Hannibal said, starting to pack.
"Wait, I'm not sure that's a good idea."
Hannibal continued to pack, ignoring Will's words.
"Aren't you still running a fever?"
"I will heal when we get to our intended destination."