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Abigail's appearance was a shock, to say the least- vomiting up someone's ear tends to cement belief in their death. Although Will supposes that he shouldn't be surprised by the depths of Hannibal's cunning, not anymore, and certainly not after having experienced it firsthand.
The three of them stood in silence and then Will laughs- no, choked, on grief and fury and something he'd like to pretend isn't gratitude towards Hannibal. (But while he isn't often inclined to turn his piercing gaze inward, he knows himself well enough to recognize his feelings for his sometime therapist, and this act of kindness only drags him further into the man's debt, and the man in question further into Will's heart.)
Abigail, eyes now widening with hesitation, tries to smile. It comes out more as a weak grimace than anything else. But there's another fear in her eyes, one that is buried deeper and has a far greater hold in her- fear of Hannibal. But Will doesn't understand why, and his not-laugh dies against Hannibal's gleaming countertops as he stares at the two of them.
Then Hannibal takes a step forward, his eyes gleaming, and Will realizes that they will not be leaving- or rather, that Hannibal will not continue to pretend that this night will end with the three of them together.
Hannibal stops inches from Will, head listing to one side as his expression grows melancholy.
"We have worked so wonderfully together, in these last few weeks. I had hoped that we could continue our partnership to its natural end," he murmurs, smiling softly, sadly.
Will swallows against unexpected tears. "Who's to say this end is unnatural?" he asks. Hannibal regards him curiously, his smile gaining a twist of mirth.
"Perhaps it's not. But I think that you have often done what many would call unnatural, so perhaps you are not the best judge of such things."
The absurdity of the statement, so easily given, pulls a snort out of Will. It's a damp noise accompanied by a solitary tear. Hannibal reaches out, his hand brushing the droplet without touching Will's skin. Slight tremors run down Will's spine, intensifying by the time they breach at his hands that prevent him from making fists, grasping, anything that would help him stop Hannibal's next move- a swift slice to Will's abdomen with a curved blade.
Even though Will knew the instant he saw the blood seeping out from under the pantry door that the night would not end well, and that it would most likely end with his death, the sharp pain radiating from his stomach still shocks him into silence.
What hurts the most is the vicious twist of the blade at the end, right before Hannibal rips it out. The attack itself was merely an act of self-preservation; the added damage from the final movement is the true punishment, the ugly brutality a testament to Will's betrayal.
---
As Will slumps to the ground next to Abigail, her blood spurting onto his face, he listens to them die. His own sobbing gasps, Abigail's whimpers of fear (so similar to when Hobbes had cut her throat, and oh, it hurts that he led her to this for the second time), and Jack- the agent wheezing as he fumbles in vain with his cell phone. Fate has saved Jack from watching his beloved wife wither away, but in the most cruel manner possible. She will not be long for this world once she hears about tonight.
Abigail huffs once, twice, and is still, one last wave of blood trickling down her neck. Will can hear Jack's phone clatter to the floor just as Bella's voice comes on.
Will is alone now, drifting in and out of consciousness. He realizes that no one will be there at the moment of his passing, not even the man he had considered making a new life with. A vague sense of disappointment sweeps through him (he's lucid enough to refuse to call it betrayal, out of principle). He sinks further into the darkness that threatens to overtake him, wishing that he had more than Bella's muffled cries to keep him company.
He closes his eyes, Bella growing fainter by the second, and soon he hears little more than a rushing noise. The sound stabilizes, grows louder, and Will realizes it's the sound of running water. Suddenly his eyelids don't feel so heavy and the darkness has retreated. He opens his eyes and blinks, sunlight winking in his face and glittering on the surface of a stream.
He knows he could fight- use Bella's voice as an anchor with which to drag himself back to Hannibal's kitchen, but he pauses. Will considers the water, noticing three small fish hidden in a divot. He hears his dogs barking in the distance, playing in the forest. He could go back, back to the kitchen and the chase and his broken body, but- but his dogs are here, and he's warm for the first time he can remember in months, and so Will tilts his head back, smiles, and wades into the quiet of the stream.