Archive of Our Own

Will cursed lightly under his breath, his head down as he walked along the dark road. 

He needed to clear his head. He had been reading about the recent killing by the Chesapeake Ripper, and it had gotten into his brain like a barb. This was the second of the sounder, so there was one more to look forward to before the killer faded back into obscurity until they inevitably reemerged to instill terror into the population.

Will had let himself go too deep, get too close. He had thought it wouldn’t be too dangerous. It had been years since he’d had a problem. 

It had been years since he had let himself read up on a current case, and actually think about it. He had been busy with school.

But tonight, Will had been free for the first time since starting college. He had finished his finals, and grades were due to be published by the next day. Will had felt good about it, and he had thought it was safe.

The Ripper was still whispering in the back of his skull as he set out to take a bit of a late night walk. The dark soaked into him and helped to dampen his thoughts, and the quiet soothed his frayed nerves. 

They’re nothing but cattle or livestock. They are only alive for the purpose of becoming something more in their death. They would be a waste if they were not elevated in this way. Through this act of dual creation and destruction, they rise above what they were capable of themselves.

Will shook his head against these thoughts, and didn’t notice when he began to be followed. He had already felt pursued, by the Ripper, so this new entity was overshadowed. 

It wasn’t until his mouth and nose were filled with the deathly sweet scent of chloroform that Will realized his vigilance had lapsed. He fought with the attacker, knowing he had five minutes tops before inhaling the stuff would make him drop, probably less because his pulse had elevated. Whoever it was, they were strong and capable, and Will couldn’t get away for even one breath of fresh air. 

He was free of the Ripper when his vision went black along with his thoughts.

—

Will woke, tasting vomit in his mouth. 

He was on his side, in recovery position. Whoever had abducted him had known what to do when the chloroform had made him vomit. His throat and mouth felt dry, and he suppressed the urge to cough. 

He was on an old and dry hardwood floor. It reminded Will of when he had lived in an old and dilapidated house in Mississippi with his dad. The floor had been like this. 

Though, he had never been tied to the legs of a bed frame back then.

Will could hear someone else in the house, and he assumed it was the one who had taken him. He could only hear one person, but that didn’t mean more wouldn’t come. He had to gain his bearings as quickly as possible and come up with a plan.

Will hoped his particular way of thinking would be an advantage rather than a burden to him in this situation. 

A cockroach scuttled across the floor in front of his eyes, but Will didn’t even flinch. He couldn’t afford to be controlled by his atmosphere. He had to be unchanged and untouched. If not, he wouldn’t be able to think clearly. 

Will had to think clearly.

Will listened for hours, and managed to create a layout of the house based on what he heard. He was on the second floor, he thought, and his captor had spent all the time to that point on the lower floor. It was a smaller house, despite having multiple levels, and there were a few rooms. He was in the back of the house, away from a street if there was one out there. He didn’t hear any traffic, so they were in a more rural or outskirt suburban area. He wasn’t gagged, so he thought they must be far from a city.

Will figured they didn’t know as much as they thought they did. If they really knew everything they should about chloroform, they would know he was awake by now. He guessed they were waiting to hear him struggling or calling out. Then, they would know he was awake, and they would come do whatever it was they had taken him in order to do.

Will wondered how long it would take them to come check that he hadn’t died. They had made sure he wouldn’t suffocate on his own vomit, but he could have experienced a reaction to the chloroform and died while they were gone. They might not know that, but they should come check regardless. They hadn’t brought him here so he could sit here and rot. There would be no point.

After another fifteen minutes, Will decided to meet them on his own terms.

He couldn’t sit up, the ropes tied around his chest and waist holding him firmly against the bed frame in the position he was in, but he could choose when they appeared. As long as they were listening for him to wake. 

“Hello?” Will called, allowing himself to sound frightened and nervous. He didn’t want to sound as if he were in control, even if he managed to find himself so. He would try to take whatever power he could, but he absolutely mustn’t let his captor know if he made progress. “Is anyone there? Help me.”

Will made sure he didn’t sound panicked. He wanted to sound confused. Unproblematic. 

The footsteps stopped for a moment, then moved up the stairs toward Will. They sounded unhurried, possibly hesitant, as if they weren’t sure what to expect from Will. That was smart, because Will doubted they knew much about him.

Will was an unknown variable, and he liked it that way.

The man who opened the door had light brown eyes and light brown hair. He was tanned as well, making him look as if almost all of his entire being was the same color. It made his eyes stand out, the white a contrast to the entirety of him. 

Brown eyes looked over Will’s body, as if noting the fact he hadn’t moved. Will looked back at him with his own eyes wide and fearful.

“Can you help me?” he said, hating how pitiful he sounded at the same time as knowing this act would help him seem unthreatening, “do you know where I am? What happened?”

The man seemed satisfied that Will was no threat, and stepped all the way into the room. The only furnishing was the bed frame, so the man crouched down in front of Will and tipped his head at him. 

He was wearing a dark grey hoodie and jeans, clothes that were so nondescript Will realized he actually dressed that way. This man was as bland looking as they came, and dressed to match. No elegance or embellishments. Everything matched.

But there was a fragile insanity behind those nondescript eyes. Something in the way he held his mouth that showed how thin the barrier between reality and fantasy were for this man. His moorings to sanity had been damaged beyond repair.

“The reason you’re here is to help me,” the man said calmly, as if answering a homework question for someone far less intelligent than himself, “What happened is that I took you, and I’m going to keep you. I want to see what happens.”

Will swallowed hard, showing his fear so obviously no one could miss it. He was curious about what the man intended, but knew he wouldn’t get any answers. If he wasn’t careful, he could set off the man’s temper. 

“What are you going to do to me?” Will asked.

The man reached out and stroked Will’s cheek, not in any romantic or perverted way, but the way one pets an animal. Will thought he even found some comfort in the sensation of Will’s skin under his fingers. The man was insane. 

“I won’t do much,” the man said, “but I expect you’ll do quite a bit.”

Will didn’t answer, just pulled away from the man’s hand and averted his eyes. He wanted to be done with the conversation for the time being. He didn’t think he’d learn anything new at that time, and he wanted to consider what he had gathered.

The man reclaimed his hand, apparently deciding Will wouldn’t be much fun at the moment. He heaved himself back to his feet, a motion that spoke of hard labor. Will had already known the man was strong, having felt it when he had struggled, but now he could see the man was incredibly solid. His build wasn’t that of a bodybuilder, but more like a construction worker. He lifted and manipulated heavy objects on a nearly daily basis, and would have no problem dealing with Will in a physical altercation.

Will decided to avoid that if at all possible. 

The man left, and returned to the floor level. Will listened to him move and thought about what he would do to get out of here. 

—

Will listened as Lawrence moved around upstairs. 

He had been moved to the basement the day after Lawrence had brought him to this house. He gathered that time he had spent in the second floor room had been for Lawrence to prepare this dungeon for him. 

Lawrence carried a burden today. His movements were altered in a way that compensated for additional weight.

There was a steel collar around Will’s neck, fastened at the back with a sturdy lock. It was attached to a chain that led to the wall, and Will had only about half the room to move around in. It had definitely been a downgrade from the room upstairs, but it was nice to be able to walk rather than just lay down all day. 

Lawrence brought Will two meals every day, adequate size that Will didn’t feel he was being starved, and he wasn’t burning calories as much as he would if he had never been snatched. He was rarely hungry. 

Will believed the time between meals was when Lawrence was at work. After the second meal, Lawrence spent time in the room with Will, though he talked very little. He would typically work, making changes to the room. Will had been able to gather a bit of information, namely his captor’s name, but nothing he could use to escape.

Lawrence still thought of Will as largely helpless. Will had not fought, though he had put up a token struggle when he had been moved to the basement. Will was biding his time, waiting for an opportunity to escape. He hoped he could get out before Lawrence’s plan for him came to fruition, which would be soon if he was right. The room was ready.

Will thought it might be too late, because today Lawrence had not come down with the second meal when he returned from work, and he sounded as if he had something he was carrying. If Will was right, it would be a roommate for him.

The door at the top of the stairs opened, letting light stream in around the shape of Lawrence and his burden. Will sat still in the place he usually was when Lawrence brought food, waiting to see what new brand of strange he would have to deal with.

The girl Lawrence carried as if she weighed nothing was wearing what looked like steel toed work boots and a flannel shirt. Will passed his fingers over the hem of his own flannel, and knew Lawrence had a type. An interesting victim profile, all things considered. Her light hair was in a french braid down past her shoulders, and her nails were clipped short.

Lawrence put the girl down in the corner and fastened the other thick metal collar around her neck. She would have a rude awakening when she came to from the chloroform. Will doubted Lawrence would have changed his methods, because it had worked on him, regardless of the side effects.

“What do you expect to happen?” Will asked.

Lawrence stilled beside the unconscious girl. He didn’t turn toward Will, but he never did. Will had learned what to expect from his captor over the last few weeks.

“I expect one of you to die,” the man said, his voice as soft as someone speaking at a funeral.

Will waited, hoping Lawrence would elaborate while knowing he wouldn’t. Lawrence was a man of few words, at least with Will.

“Are you going to kill one of us?” he asked.

Lawrence heaved himself back to his feet, leaving the girl in the recovery position on the cold floor. Will waited, and Lawrence glanced at him as he moved back to the stairs. Will hadn’t missed the fact that his meal had not come.

“I won’t do anything,” Lawrence said, “one of you will die, but not by my hand.”

Will realized what he meant, and moved toward Lawrence, falling to his hands and knees.

“Please, Lawrence,” he said, pleading, “Don’t do this.”

Lawrence visibly stiffened at the use of his name. It was the first time Will had called him by it, because he had waited for a moment like this. He had wanted it to have an impact.

“I’ll let the survivor go,” Lawrence said, once again speaking with his back to Will, “you have to decide who it should be.”

Lawrence left, and Will was in the dark once more. He wasn’t alone this time. He was in the dark with a girl he was supposed to kill. Or she might be meant to kill him. Apparently, they got to choose. Which was just peachy.

—

“Where am I? What happened?” the girl said, coughing past the irritation from the chloroform. Then, she began to scream for help.

Will winced at the loud noise that echoed in their prison. He moved over to where she was, trying to tell her to stop all the while. She couldn’t hear him, or didn’t listen, so he reached her while she was still screaming. He gripped her arm and shook her just harshly enough to get her attention.

Her scream cut off and she scrabbled to push his hands away from her.

Will let her go and retreated to his own area, ready to go back to her if she started screaming again. 

“Welcome to Hell,” Will told her sardonically, then regretted it.

“Who are you?” the girl sobbed. Will could tell she had moved further away from him.

“My name is Will, and I’m not the guy who put you here. I’m also stuck here against my will.”

The girl scoffed through her tears. There was just enough light Will could see her huddles form against the wall. Protecting her vital organs.

“Sounds like something a rapist would say,” she said, and Will smiled.

She was smart.

“To lull you into a false sense of security?” he asked, but didn’t wait to hear her response, “actually, most rapists wouldn’t have cared to try that. They like you to be afraid, and to feel helpless. They enjoy the feeling of control as they take yours from you.”

The girl was silent for a beat.

“What are you, a shrink?” she asked.

Will huffed a laugh.

“Not yet,” he answered, “by now, I would have my psychology degree if I hadn’t ended up here. He took me the day before final grades were posted.”

Another beat. Will guessed this girl was used to not having a chance to have her say. She probably also got in trouble as a kid for being rude. 

“That’s shit luck,” she said.

Will smiled bitterly to himself. Under other circumstances, he would have been glad to meet her.

“Yeah,” he said, “I know I passed, too. I would be done with school and starting my career by now. What about you?”

The girl was silent for a long time. Will decided she wasn’t going to answer, but eventually she did.

“I was going to start college in the fall,” she said quietly, “I want to study horticulture.”

Will nodded to himself. He bet she had a job at a garden or as a groundskeeper. That would explain her shoes, and he liked that. She was smart and hands on.

“That’s cool,” Will said, “I’ve never been much of a gardener.”

When the girl spoke again, her tone was lighter and she had stopped crying.

“I’ve got a chronically green thumb,” she said. 

There was another long pause, and Will knew what she was going to ask before she spoke.

“If he’s not a rapist, then what are we dealing with?”

Will let that question hang in the air for a moment.

“Technically, I didn’t say he isn’t a rapist. I said I’m not. But I haven’t had a problem with him in that way, if that helps at all.” Will knew it didn’t. “Based on what I can tell, our captor is not that kind of monster. He’s just a guy with a screw loose, and stopped taking his meds without talking to his doctor.”

The girl let that sit for a long time. Will was interested to find their conversation was mostly comprised of dead air.

“What does he want from us, then?”

Her voice was small and frightened. Will thought she already had some idea of what they were dealing with, but was too afraid to accept it.

Will didn’t want to tell her. He didn’t want to crush her hope of escape. She still wanted to fight, and he didn’t want to make her feel helpless.

“What’s your name?” he asked, knowing she would recognize it as a deflection.

“Mina.”

—

Will was starting to get hungry. Lawrence had stopped feeding him the day he had brought Mina. Mina hadn’t had the unique pleasure of her captor’s culinary skills, and she was also starting to feel the wear. Will could feel her fraying at the edges. 

Will felt bad for her. She had so much life left to live, and so much good left to do in the world. She shouldn’t have been put here.

But neither should he. He had also been on his way to bigger and better things. He had plans to make the world a better place. Both of them were innocents, and Lawrence was a monster.

Will still hadn’t told Mina what Lawrence wanted from them. He didn’t want to. But he knew he would have to very soon. He wouldn’t let her starve to death without knowing what she could do to survive. 

He would admit he didn’t believe the survivor would be let go. He didn’t trust Lawrence to keep his promise any more than he would trust the Chesapeake Ripper to make him a breakfast scramble. One without human in it, at least.

“How long will he leave us down here?” Mina asked, sounding defeated. 

Will closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall.

“Until only one of us is left,” he answered.

Mina was quiet, and Will knew she would be staring at him in frightened bewilderment. 

“He wants us to kill each other,” she realized, and Will didn’t answer. That was response enough.

Now she knew the truth. She had been forced to face it. She could make an informed decision.

“You should kill me.”

Will opened his eyes. He hadn’t expected that.

“What?” 

Mina shifted, coming closer to Will’s side of the room.

“When I’m dead, he’ll come down, and you can kill him. I know you can, and I know I couldn’t. It has to be you. You’re smarter and stronger.”

Will rubbed at his face. His scruff had grown to nearly a beard in the time he had been there. 

He did not want to have this decision in his hands.

“No. Killing him isn’t the answer. If he lets you go, the police are more likely to do anything they can to catch him. Young women garner sympathy sooner than guys like me. He’ll be punished like he’s supposed to. Let the system take care of him for us both.”

There was a long silence, and Will knew Mina was preparing to tell him why he was wrong. She was strong willed, even if it meant she would argue for her own death. Will knew she would stand her ground against him, and she would argue well.

“You don’t trust the system,” she said, “you just said someone like you won’t be taken as seriously as me. I know that’s true, and that’s why I’m not going to just let the system take care of him. The system is shit, and you know it.”

Will sighed and closed his eyes again. There was almost no difference between the dark and having his eyes closed, but it felt better this way, his eyes no longer straining to see what he couldn’t. He felt more tired recently, and he thought the temperature had been turned down for their basement prison. Lawrence was promoting illness in order to foster an urgency in them. 

“I have a little brother,” Mina said, her voice soft and tense with emotion, “he’s adopted through foster care. We got him when he was five, and all his teeth had rotted out of his mouth. The case worker brought him to our house in the middle of the night, and all he had were the clothes on his back. He experienced withdrawals for months. It was awful.”

Will didn’t say anything. He felt all of her words like knives, and he knew she wasn’t done yet. She was determined to make her point, and Will knew what it was going to be.

“We had to let him visit his mom every month for four years. She didn’t show up for more than half of them. He knew. Every time she stood him up, he knew she had abandoned him again. Every month for years. When she did show, she tried to tell him we were bad people. She tried to follow my mother home to find out where he lived. She never showed up to a single drug test, but she kept telling him she was going to get him back. She’s still out there, too. She’s still walking the streets, doing drugs and hurting the people in her life. The system gave him to us, but the system failed him for the first five years of his life, and the next four after that. The system isn’t built to do good, it’s built to serve the rich and ignore everyone else. Foster care could be so much better if the people with the means to help cared at all, or if the system had room for it. There are kids out there who haven’t been helped, because they still have their teeth, or they aren’t addicted to the drugs their parents are doing. There aren’t enough people who care for the system to be held up to decent standards.”

Mina took in a shaky breath, and Will worried she might be getting sick.

“Some people need to be dealt with outside of the system’s reach. This bastard is one of them. You need to kill him.”

Will twisted his chain in his hands, not knowing what to do. 

“Maybe that’s true,” he said, “maybe we do need to kill Lawrence in order for justice to be satisfied. But there’s no justice in killing you. You haven’t earned this.”

Mina sighed.

“I guess it’s the trolley problem, isn’t it, Will? The needs of the many over the needs of the few. An algorithm to determine the most ethical decision. You can do nothing, in which case I will probably die. I’m sick, and I know what that means. If you wait for that, you might not be strong enough to kill him.”

This was the most Mina had spoken all in one day since she had been dropped here with him. She felt very passionately about this, and Will guessed she had taken a philosophy class in high school. Her arguments were reminiscent of the debates those classes encouraged.

“You know he will do this again if one of us goes free. The system isn’t going to stop him. Only you can.”

Will didn’t answer. He just turned away and tried to sleep. He wasn’t going to kill her. Not today at least. He couldn’t entirely predict how he would feel about it tomorrow, or in a few more days of having no food.

—

Light streamed down, blinding Will and making him flinch back. He made out the silhouette of a man in the doorway, but he had to close his eyes against the light. He hadn’t been exposed to light in at least a week, though he couldn’t really remember. 

The taste of blood was still on his tongue. He couldn’t get rid of it, no matter how hard he tried. He wanted something to drink, something to eat that wasn’t the horrible thing he had feasted on just an hour ago. 

Will felt tears spring to his eyes, but he knew he had to take the next step. They had known what came when Lawrence returned. 

Will gripped his chain in his hands, and waited for Lawrence to come down.

The steps were wrong. Will noticed they weren’t in time with Lawrence’s usual gait. He tried to open his eyes again, but the light was still too bright. He had to squint, and he couldn’t see Lawrence very well. He was just a misshapen silhouette against the searing light.

The steps halted nearby, and Will lunged, half blind and weak from hunger. But he was determined to put a stop to this. He was going to punish Lawrence for Mina. He wouldn’t let anyone else go through this.

Will was held by his shoulders, pushed back down to the floor as if he was nothing. The strength matched Lawrence, but the hands didn’t. This wasn’t the man that had abducted him and Mina.

“You seem to have been through quite an ordeal,” a rich voice said calmly, as if he hadn’t just been attacked by a starved man in a prison basement.

Will sat, trembling and confused. 

“Not to worry,” the man said gently, “I’ll deal with this presently.”

And the man was gone. The door was left open, and light poured in. Will’s eyes slowly adjusted, and he saw the mess he had made of Mina. He tried not to look at it, because he felt such a deep guilt about it. He felt nauseated, and his head was swimming.

Her blood was all over him and on his tongue. There were bits of her stuck in his teeth. Will turned and pressed his forehead against the cool cement wall. He gagged, but his body refused to give up the taboo sustenance. It greedily held on to what he had eaten in desperation.

Soon, the man was back. He placed a hand gently on the base of Will’s skull as he used a key to unfasten the collar. Will’s neck was red and rubbed raw from the metal constantly pressing and rubbing against his skin. The man passed his fingers over the band of damaged flesh, and a hiss escaped Will at the sting of the contact.

“My apologies,” the man murmured, pulling his hand away from Will’s neck and taking Will’s arm to help him to his feet.

Will was weak and trembling, and the man kept a steadying hand on his arm as they walked to the stairs. The light still felt searingly bright, and Will wondered if his sight had been damaged by being kept in the dark for so long.

“Who are you?” Will asked, shielding his eyes from the light that shone in through the windows.

“A doctor,” the man replied vaguely.

Will was about to ask for a better answer, when he saw Lawrence’s body. His neck had been snapped, and he was laying on the floor of the kitchen.

That was a good reason to remain anonymous.

“Are you going to kill me?” Will asked, and the man paused.

“You have given me no reason to, as of yet,” he answered, “do you intend to?”

Will considered it, staring at the man with his tailored suit and severe cheekbones. His hair was combed sharply, and everything about him screamed of polite society and money. 

In that moment, Will saw Lawrence the way this doctor had. He saw him through the eyes of the man who had walked into a man’s home and snapped his neck as if it was his right to do it. As if there was nothing wrong with this murder. With this slaughter.

“You’re the Chesapeake Ripper, aren’t you?” Will asked, meeting the man’s eyes for the first time. 

The man’s gaze sparked with curious fascination. There was no anger, as Will would have expected from someone being accused of being a serial killer, regardless of whether it was true or not. 

There was some sense of comfort in that. 

“Does that idea not frighten you?”

Will felt very little by way of fear in that moment. He was too tired and fatigued to spend any energy being afraid.

“No,” Will said, “You will either kill me or not, and I am not going to waste my thoughts on fear for which. If you are going to kill me, though, I’d just like to say thanks for doing my job for me. I don’t know if I’d have been able to get the better of him in my current state.”

Will gestured at the corpse of Lawrence, his captor and tormentor. He turned to look at it more fully, but his head swam again and his vision went dark. He felt his knees buckle and he was caught by the man beside him. The Chesapeake Ripper was surprisingly strong and solid, and Will thought he wouldn’t mind so much if he didn’t wake up.

—

Will opened his eyes to see a bright ceiling above him. He was in a bed that he would swear was more comfortable than any bed he had ever lain in. He felt hungry and thirsty in a way he never had before, but his muscles didn’t ache from strain or cold. 

Will sat up, and his head spun.

“Move slowly for now,” a voice said, rich and gentle, “you are dehydrated and malnourished. You will likely feel fatigued for a few days before these things have been remedied properly.”

A cold glass of water was pressed into Will’s hands, the other pair of hands lingering over his as if expecting his hold to fail. Will took in a deep breath and forced himself to nurse the glass of water rather than down it all at once. He knew what could happen if he drank too quickly, no matter what his body cried.

The man beside the bed hummed in approval, and Will finally turned to look at him properly. 

His hair was not combed back the way it had been when Will had first met him, and he was wearing slacks and a sweater rather than the tailored suit he had worn before. He looked altogether more soft and casual. 

“Might I know your name?” the man asked.

Will considered that as he took another sip of the water, enjoying the fresh taste of the cool liquid.

“Will you return the favor, or is this a case of “if I tell you I’ll have to kill you”?” He asked.

The man smiled, clearly amused by this.

“If I was concerned about you revealing my identity, I would already have killed you. You have seen my face and now the inside of my home. My name is trivial at this point. If you tell me yours I will tell you mine.”

Will nodded. He took another drink of water, sating his thirst for the time being so he was only left with his aching hunger.

“I’m Will Graham.”

The man smiled and nodded in thanks, watching as Will set the glass down on the bedside table.

“I am Doctor Hannibal Lecter,” he said.

Will studied the man for a moment. He didn’t seem at all concerned by this entire situation, and Will guessed he was a man who was used to having complete control. He was careful and concise with himself, and confident in his ability to control the people around him. 

Will had an idea the man had brought him here rather than killing him or setting him loose because he had been surprised by him. He hadn’t expected Will to say the things he had, and he was curious. He was interested in Will, which was why he had risked this. He was curious what would happen. 

“You’re the Chesapeake Ripper.”

Lecter tipped his head. 

“That was not a question.”

“No. It wasn’t.”

Lecter smiled.

“Then, I am compelled to ask one of you in reply. Now that you are in a slightly better mental and physical state than when you first came to that conclusion, does that thought frighten you?”

Will thought about it. He hadn’t been frightened before, but now he had the chance to be. He wasn’t as exhausted and frayed. He was relatively comfortable, though still hungry. He could afford to be scared now.

“No. As you said, if you intended to kill me you probably would have by now. I think you could easily change your mind at any time, but you’re not planning to kill me right now. It’s not worth worrying about now, because you can change your mind independently of what I do. I’ll probably tread softly for a while, depending on how long I live, just so I don’t push you into it. How does that make you feel?”

Lecter’s smile grew.

“Are you a psychiatrist, Will Graham?” he asked, apparently intrigued by the idea.

Will shook his head.

“I missed graduation, but my degree would have been in psychology. We have Lawrence to thank for me missing it. So, again, thanks for taking care of him for me. He didn’t deserve to live any more.”

Lecter nodded thoughtfully. They sat in a fairly comfortable silence for a while, each of them studying the other. Will wondered how deep the doctor could see, and how much he was seeing beneath Lecter’s surface.

“You must be famished,” Lecter said after a while, standing smartly, “I’ll prepare something to eat, and you may come downstairs whenever you wish.”

With that, Lecter walked out of the door, closing it behind him with a gentle click of the latch. Will was left to himself in this house. He took the opportunity to look around. 

It was absurdly nice. Will had guessed he had money, but this was ridiculous. Everything looked like it cost his tuition, and it was just sitting in what appeared to be a guest room that was rarely used. More a status symbol than a functional space. 

Even the clothes Will was wearing were obviously expensive, though he had to admit the money was probably worth it for this level of comfort. The fabric was smooth and buttery against his skin, and he decided he would have to find some for himself. He would sacrifice some money for this. Pajamas should absolutely be that comfortable.

If Will had to guess, he thought Lecter must have had a period of his childhood where he had very little, so he was now obsessed with having more than enough. He had probably had times when he had much, just as he did now, making him comfortable with this style of living, but he had known want, the kind of hunger that ate at one’s bones. 

Will wondered what Lecter would think about these observations, if he would scoff and deny it or simply tip his head in that curious way of his and ask Will to go on. 

Most people defaulted to the former, but there was something different about Lecter that made Will unsure. Will didn’t think he could entirely predict the man. At least not yet. If he had the chance to really get to know him, he might get there.

Will rubbed at his face, and found that the man had shaved his face while he had been unconscious. He hadn’t shaved clean since graduating from high school, because he looked really young without a layer of scruff. It was strange. 

There was an attached bathroom, and Will looked at himself in the mirror. He had dark circles under his eyes, and he looked regrettably thin due to his period of starvation, but he thought he looked pretty good for the circumstances. 

Now, he just had to survive a meal at the Ripper’s table. 

Will steeled himself and crept down the stairs, following his nose more than anything. He was so hungry, and whatever Lecter was cooking smelled absolutely divine. 

The kitchen was huge, but surprisingly unembellished in comparison to what else of the house Will had seen to that point. It was clean and clinical, almost like a hospital. 

So, the Ripper liked to cook. It was a passion of his. This was not a showroom, as all the others were in one way or another. It was entirely functional. Exactly what Lecter wanted it to be, without theater.

Lecter looked up from the counter where he was working, smiling at Will with a strange warmth. 

“Do you have any dietary requirements I should be aware of?” he asked, moving between the counter and the stove.

Will shook his head.

“No allergies, but if you’re about to feed me a person, I’d prefer if you didn’t.”

Lecter raised an eyebrow, but didn’t address the actual contents of the food just yet.

“Lost a taste for it?” 

That stung. Will hadn’t expected the man to say something so sharp at him right away, but he could see the clinical detachment the man was looking at him with now. He was curious, but not about to be vulnerable for it.

“For a while at least,” Will offered with a wan smile, “I think most people would, in my situation.”

Lecter nodded.

“Certainly, most people would have never grown a taste for it unless in such a circumstance, but I doubt many would recover it after being removed from the situation. Do you think you will?”

Will considered that. If he wanted to live, he knew he would have to eat what this man gave him. He doubted he would be allowed to leave just now, no matter how much Lecter claimed to believe Will wouldn’t send the police here immediately. Will was a prisoner, even if his bed was soft and the food was good.

And then there was the fact he dreaded to acknowledge. 

Even as Will had hated himself for doing it, there had been some part of him that had reveled in the violence. As he had bashed Mina’s head against the wall, it had purred and crooned in the back of his skull. When he had tasted her blood on his tongue for the first time, it had urged him to devour her entirely, fill his belly with the life he had just extinguished. 

Will wanted to ignore that part of him. He had fought it all his life until it had been nearly silenced. Lawrence had forced him to renew his acquaintance with his own monster.

In this house, with this other monster at the stove, Will knew he might have to find some truce with the beast in his mind. If he wanted to survive.

“Probably,” he admitted aloud, and Lecter smiled.

“Then we can certainly find a compromise. Today, nothing of my own butchering. Only entirely legally acquired meat.”

Will wasn’t sure he could trust the man, but he didn’t really have another choice. 

“I appreciate that,” Will said, and found he meant it. If he really was telling the truth, and he would change his regular habits to accommodate Will, that was more than he could have expected from any other serial killer.

But it fit with what he knew of the Chesapeake Ripper.

“How long were you in that place, Will?” Lecter asked, glancing up to see Will’s reaction.

Will thought about it for a bit, not sure he could trust his own gauge of time from when he had been trapped.

“I would guess at least a month,” he said slowly, “most of it I was alone in the basement, without any way to count the days other than the meals Lawrence brought me. During the last stretch, there weren’t any meals to count the days by, but I think it was nearly a week.”

Lecter paused in his preparations, studying Will for a moment.

“Your companion in the basement was not there for the same time you were,” he surmised.

Will nodded.

“Mina came the same day I stopped being fed,” he said, grimacing, “I guess Lawrence wanted it to be as fair a fight as possible. I wish-”

Will cut himself off before he said something stupidly wistful. He didn’t think it would do him any good to start talking that way. Lecter probably didn’t have any interest in his fantastic desires, or how he would have changed the past. He would gain nothing, and be showing his own vulnerability to a dangerous man. He had already been weak, and needed to build his armor again to keep himself safe.

“What do you wish, Will?” Lecter asked, his tone devastatingly gentle and non-judgmental. 

Will met his gaze and knew he wasn’t going to be able to fight. Not yet. He wasn’t strong yet. 

So, Will knew he was about to answer entirely honestly. He would tell the truth to a man who could kill him at any moment, entirely on a whim. 

“I wish you had shown up sooner and killed him.”

Lecter smiled.

—

“Why did you kill Lawrence?”

Lecter looked up at Will curiously. That was apparently his default expression when it regarded Will, and Will was content to let it stay that way. If he wasn’t interesting anymore he might be killed.

“I mean, you didn’t kill him because he did this to me, or because you knew he did that stuff to people. You hadn’t expected anyone else to be there. I can tell. You might have had some idea he had psychopathic tendencies, but I don’t think that’s the kind of thing you kill over.”

Lecter smiled, huffing a soft laugh. 

“Indeed not,” he said, “Rudeness is unspeakably ugly to me. Lawrence Claiborne was a blight on society, so I did the world a favor by cleaning him up.”

Will nodded. That made sense. It was in line with what he had thought of the Ripper before, and it made sense. It clicked into place to create a more full image of what made the man do the things he did. 

“If I may ask a few questions in return, might I ask how you so quickly identified me?” Lecter asked.

Will smiled wryly.

“Since you’re still at large, I guess you’re not used to people figuring you out upon first meeting,” he said, and Lecter nodded in reply. “Well, I guess I can’t really explain it. The night Lawrence grabbed me, I had been reading up on your case. Just as a way to pass the time instead of fretting over my final grades. I’d read everything I could get my hands on, and I’d started hearing your voice in my head alongside the one that belongs to me. When I met you, and saw what you had done, I just recognized the voice I guess.”

Lecter had the habit of staring at Will as if his gaze alone might crack open Will’s skull to expose his inner workings. He did it now, and Will had to stop himself from fidgeting under such scrutiny. Will gathered Lecter was a psychiatrist, himself, making their conversations uniquely matched in pace and style.

“Have you ever been diagnosed with an empathy disorder?”

Will laughed aloud. He was just so surprised by that question. 

“Not officially,” he said, unable to stop grinning, “I have a general aversion to psychiatric poking around. I think I’m the best authority on my own mind, and I’d say I’ve got something.”

Lecter smiled a bit, apparently reflecting Will’s good mood. Will filed that away for later thought, knowing there was something significant about it he would have to figure out.

“I would agree with you. Psychiatrists can often be overly intrusive, especially when they find someone particularly interesting.”

Will nodded.

“What a clever way to confess to your own sin, by claiming it as an occupational hazard,” he said, “Doctor Lecter, you are a slippery one.”

Lecter smiled, amused and self satisfied.

“You are in possession of a quick wit and a sharp tongue of your own,” he said, “I am constantly impressed by your intelligence.”

Will blushed lightly. He hadn’t expected Lecter to compliment him like that. He had meant it too, very clearly, making Will feel a bit more nervous about the interaction.

“Why did you bring me here?” Will asked, “you could have killed me or just let me go, and it would have been less trouble for you. I wouldn’t have been able to get you arrested, in that kind of situation. You had to have a reason more than your curiosity.”

Lecter sat back and his expression grew pensive as he considered that. He was silent for a long time, making Will wonder if he might have crossed some invisible line with the question.

“You were quite possibly the most beautiful thing I have ever seen,” Lecter replied, “covered with blood and victorious, prepared to fight for your life regardless of your chance of survival.”

Will was frozen in place. He had expected many different potential answers, but this had never crossed his mind. It didn’t make sense. 

“Have I made you uncomfortable?”

Will blinked quickly and bit his tongue to force himself back to the present.

“I don’t know. Yes. Just, I think- I’m going to need some time to think about that.”

Will stood and made his way to the guest room in a daze. He had been staying there since he had woken up that day, and Lecter had provided him with clothes and food. It was strangely comfortable, and much nicer than staying at his dorm room had ever been. Lecter hadn’t brought up cannibalism again, and neither had Will. Will supposed he might have been eating people in every meal since the first day, but he didn’t really care. 

Despite what he would have claimed to be true, he wasn’t bothered by the idea of eating another human. It was all just meat. 

Will lay on the bed, still in his clothes. He was stunned by what he had just learned, and didn’t even think about changing into sleepwear. It was early for bed, but Will didn’t think he would know how to act if he stayed in Lecter’s company any longer. 

—

Mina screamed, her voice weak from exhaustion, illness, and starvation. Will’s fingers were like claws as they tore at her flesh, greedy for more and desperate for anything else. 

There was blood everywhere. He was covered in it, and filled with it. 

Mina’s screams were filling his soul as her flesh filled his belly. There was a fire inside him, consuming him and devouring his flesh. He had to feed it, or die. 

Will’s hands were stained with blood, and he would never be rid of it.

Will woke in a cold sweat, trembling and gasping for air.

—

“Good morning, Will,” Lecter said pleasantly, no hint of hesitance from the potential awkwardness from the night before, “Are you hungry?”

Will nodded, taking a seat at the island. Lecter had bought the barstools a few days after Will had arrived, because he enjoyed having Will watch him cook, but Will felt awkward  just standing around. Will had felt it was a strangely sweet and sentimental way for a serial killer to behave, but now he wondered if there was a good reason for that.

Breakfast would be something human today. Will had come to terms with that part of being Doctor Lecter’s pet captive. He wasn’t even bothered by it anymore.

“How do you see me, now that you’ve started getting to know me?” Will asked, and Lecter raised an eyebrow. 

“I assume you mean in regards to how it has changed since my first impression of you,” he said, and Will nodded again, “I stand by my original conclusion that you are physically beautiful. Now that we have had the opportunity to speak, I know you are highly intelligent and I find your mind more beautiful than your physical appearance.”

Will didn’t respond, giving himself a moment to process this as well. Lecter hadn’t tried to make any advances, or tell him this without Will asking first. He hadn’t tried to do anything that Will would have found uncomfortable. Will couldn’t even be sure the man had any desire to do anything. 

But he wanted to know. 

“Are you going to do anything about that?” Will asked.

Lecter smiled and set down what he was doing. 

“As it so happens, I already have,” he said, walking over to a cupboard and pulling a file folder from it.

Lecter offered the file to Will. Will took it hesitantly, watching Lecter as he returned to cooking.

Will opened the folder, and wasn’t sure what he was looking at at first. 

Then he realized.

It was a police report. For Mina’s murder. It listed Lawrence Claiborne as the only suspect, and said they had forensic evidence to prove he had done it. Not only had her body been found in her house after an anonymous tip, but there were other things to show he had actually, physically been the one to bash her head in and cannibalize her. 

Lawrence was still missing, leading police to think he had run. His body hadn’t been found yet.

Will couldn’t believe it. 

That meant he could leave. He would have to think of a way to explain his disappearance, but he wouldn’t have to explain why his DNA had been all over a dead body, and everything pointed to him being the one to kill her. 

Will didn’t have to stay here anymore if he didn’t want to. Doctor Lecter was giving him his freedom. He could go back and live a normal life. He could put this all behind him. Lawrence, Mina, and the Chesapeake Ripper. 

Will looked back up at Lecter, who was watching him with a carefully guarded expression. 

And Will realized the significance of all the times he had mirrored Will’s emotions. Lecter was a man almost never touched by others. He went through life as solid and unchanging as the ground beneath his feet. There was not a power on earth that could influence him.

Except for his feelings towards Will. Whatever they were, however strong or real, they changed him. He would not have done this for anyone else. He would have just killed anyone else. 

Doctor Hannibal Lecter was in love with Will.

Will stood up and walked around the island. Lecter watched him cautiously until Will was only a few feet away.

“Come here,” Will said softly, holding out his hands.

Lecter moved slowly, stepping up and taking Will’s hands as if it might be some kind of trap.

Will smiled softly and kissed Hannibal gently. Just a quick kiss to reassure him of Will’s good intentions. 

Hannibal’s eyes were wide and vulnerable when Will pulled away. He hadn’t pushed for more or tried to pull Will into a deeper kiss. He had either been too surprised or too frightened of rejection. 

“I need to leave,” Will said, “Just for a little while. I just need to work this all out. I need to talk to the university and the police, see if I can get my degree even though I missed graduation and make sure no one thinks they’ll find me dead in a ditch someday. By showing me this, you’ve told me you trust me, and I’m asking you to trust me again. I’ll come back.”

Hannibal sighed softly, his grip tightening a bit in Will’s hands. 

“You know me better than I know myself. You understand this is difficult.”

Will smiled and nodded.

He did understand. Hannibal was not used to trusting anyone. He never put his own life in the hands of someone else. He was probably having to hold back almost everything his mind was telling him to do. Anyone else would be killed for suggesting he put himself in a more vulnerable position. 

“I do know. Don’t you think you’ll enjoy me being here more if we both know it’s voluntary? You don’t like me because I’m complacent.”

Hannibal huffed a laugh and tugged Will closer just a bit. He still hadn’t pushed Will at all, though Will could tell he desperately wanted more. Will knew why, and he was amazed by the restraint he was being shown by someone meant to be a psychopath.

“Complacent is certainly not what you are, Will Graham. I want you to choose me. You are free to go.”

Will gave Hannibal another kiss. 

“Thank you, Hannibal.”

—

Will grinned, unlocking the door of the motel room he had been staying in for the past week. 

He had worked it out with the university, and he was getting his degree. He had already talked to the police, and they had grilled him for information on where he had been. Will had been careful not to have any forensic evidence on his person that might lead to Hannibal. He had worn the same clothes he had gone missing in, and had gone walking through the woods, making himself dirty and rumpled. 

In the end, he had been able to tell they bought his story, which led back to Lawrence if they followed the breadcrumbs. But they would never find Lawrence. That had been by design. 

Will plopped his bag of new clothes on the small and dirty bed. He would be going back to Hannibal soon. He just hoped he was still welcome. 

Will did worry Hannibal wouldn’t want him anymore. Time apart could have given him the objectivity he needed to decide Will was too much of a liability. Will still felt pulled to him, something in his chest linked to the Chesapeake Ripper without his permission, but he didn’t know if Hannibal felt the same way. He didn’t know if the serial killer he had let himself fall in love with really loved him back, or if it had just been a brief infatuation.

Will was so preoccupied with these thoughts he didn’t notice the light in the bathroom had been turned on. He always turned all the lights off before he left. 

Will wasn’t so distracted he missed the sound of the man hitting his foot on the bedside table, though.

Will dropped down into a crouch, the knife the man wielded going high over his head. Will lashed out with his feet, sending the man tumbling into the bed. Will reached toward the bedside table, where a single drawer held the knife Will had put there for just such a situation. 

The man recovered and plunged his blade into the meat of Will’s calf, just as Will’s own hand wrapped around the handle of the knife he had hidden. 

Will grit his teeth against the pain, not wanting to make a sound. He would prefer this be handled quickly and quietly, without causing a ruckus. 

The man pulled the knife back out, causing more damage to Will’s leg, which was bleeding enthusiastically. He would have to figure out how to clean up the blood. Will turned his head a fraction of a second before he swiped his arm toward the man, watching as his knife cut right through the inside of his elbow. 

He had severed some tendon or other, and the man’s arm fell limply, his grip on the knife failing. The man’s face warped with surprised horror. He had clearly not been prepared for a fight. At least not one of this level. 

Will found his footing, leaning slightly on the table as he turned around to fully face the man who had attacked him. The man was falling back towards the door, his good hand gripping his arm tightly, panic in his face.

“You’re not very smart,” Will told him, wincing as he placed weight on his injured leg, “and I know someone who’s going to be livid when he finds out you hurt me. He killed the last guy, and that didn’t even spill my blood.”

The man scrambled for the handle of the door, but Will was quicker. He slit the man’s throat before he had even registered Will had moved. The blood gushed out onto Will and the door of the room. 

Will checked to make sure the blood wouldn’t be seeping into the hall as he kicked the body away from the door. Then, he pulled out his new phone and dialed a number he had memorized before leaving Hannibal’s house. 

“Doctor Hannibal Lecter speaking.”

“Do you know how to get blood out of… everything?”

There was a pause, then a sharp intake of breath.

“Tell me where you are.”

And Will gave him the address and room number.

—

Will opened the door, and was immediately seized by Hannibal’s strong hands. He was pushed into the room, his lips captured in a consuming kiss. He was still covered in blood, but Hannibal didn’t seem to mind at all. His hands were in Will’s hair, at his waist, his neck, his chest. Will felt like he was being devoured. 

“You are more beautiful than the day I met you,” Hannibal said, breathless between kisses he peppered Will with.

Will felt nearly as desperate as Hannibal seemed, finally being with the man again, no boundaries between them. Regardless, he knew they had things to do other than this.

“Hannibal,” he said, “there’s time for this, but not yet. We have all the time in the world, but blood dries quickly. Please .”

Hannibal bit Will’s ear lightly, making Will feel a bit insane with desire, but pulled back.

“All the time in the world,” Hannibal echoed, “then you still want to come back.”

Will laughed softly.

“Of course I do. As long as you still want me.”

Hannibal grinned.

“Forever.”