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Take me to church
I’ll tell you my sins
and you can sharpen your knife*
Seeing that church in front of his eyes was strange, for a few seconds he stopped in front the Norman chapel before entering.
He was standing there in the beige suit he had chosen, which under the sunlight through the windows, had golden reflections. He was in his back in the priest’s altar and that was his place. Will had come years ago to this church in Palermo, to look for him without finding him, but rather found a gift in at the centre of the symbol of mortality in which Graham stopped now.
They were alone at that time of the morning, and there was no mass at least at that time but only them and silence.
“Hello, Hannibal.”
Will knew that he had felt him, even if he had not yet turned and could happen of everything between them, to baptize the church in blood for example... But Will was not worried, not that morning there was still fresh blood on his hands.
“Hello, Will.”
Hannibal turned and had no weapon in his hands, not visible at least, and it was not written on his face such intention— he was motionless with a slight twinkle in the eyes when he looked at him, the one he could not hide. And he was... agitated, he wondered how many times Lecter felt like this before. Only Will could saw it, so he felt his heart respond to that awareness as well as to his gaze.
“Have you made your choice?”
Hannibal studied every little expression of him and Will smiled at him, sincere smile in his presence.
Could he possibly deny what he knew in his heart?
“I am here.”
They had killed together again but at some point, Will had fled, because he was unaware if he was following that path because of his own will or because of Hannibal’s will.
What was his real self?
For months he had been distant, growing a beard as Hannibal had stretched his hair that now silvery touched his face.
Then a letter, a meeting place... Hannibal didn’t need to know when it was time, between them it was as if they had always spoken in the memory palace they shared.
“What do you see now looking at yourself, Will?”
Hannibal was studying him with his head slightly to one side, eyes attentive in his person.
Will blinked.
“No laws, no idea interferes. The mirror neurons reflect the best and worst of me now.”
And Will was now ready, this time aware of his intentions and not as confused as he was years ago in that same church. He was there dressed in a fine shirt with almost silver reflections... and with a gift.
He turned the brown bag he was carrying forward to open it, and pull it out. He discarded it and his hands were dirty again because of the crime that he had committed— it was not important of who that organ was, but that it was human.
“A heart for a heart.”
He bowed his head slightly and waited, he saw Hannibal’s steps reach him and rest his hands on the organ that was offering. The shadow fell in that moment, the windows of the church seemed to fade under the darkness and that silence became sinister as in a crypt.
But when their eyes met, the heart seemed to move and begin to beat under Will’s hands as his own heart was doing.
The light returned, dimmed by the stained glass windows and bathed their figures fully.
“Is it your sacrifice, Will?”
“A sacrifice in the form of a gift, my Augustinian heart.”
“What are you separating from?”
“From the FBI point of view, from Alana Bloom point of view, from whoever decided who I was and not me being able to do it myself. I can now see myself through your eyes.”
He saw pride in his eyes, they were at the same level of understanding now. Will saw himself totally as Hannibal had always seen him.
He had killed the man alone, because he wanted to, fantasizing about Hannibal’s reaction every moment, knowing that he was not alone for real.
Hannibal took the heart and Will pulled something else out of his bag, a knife, the same one he had used for that murder, but clean for the task he was now to do.
He met his eyes.
“The heart you gave me here was pierced, I wish you could do the same.”
He handed the knife to him and Hannibal took it in one hand, turning it, the reflection of it beating in his face thanks to the lights of the candles of the church.
“A death to celebrate a rebirth?”
“We already died from that cliff and were born again together... no, this heart is mine, pierced by you.”
Hannibal didn’t let go his gaze and understood it, obviously. While he pierced that heart with the knife, his hand and the handle of the blade were stained with blood, Will reached for his hand and grip by dirtying himself in the same red liquid.
Small drops of blood fell on the symbol of death where they both stood.
There were moments of silence and more important words in their glances. Graham left the heart and Lecter closed it, placing it in the bag that Will handed him.
Then Hannibal raised his hand in front of his face and there was no need to say a word, which the former profiler did the same.
Will saw himself killing that man, a terrible person, who was now crawling uselessly at his feet. The former profiler had raised his knife and struck in the centre of his heart. Hannibal was there as a vision, in the shadow, and approached him only when he had to put that gift, he heard his voice guiding him in that act. And there are other corpses, horrors, and blood as their background. At the centre of his being, Will had performed everything perfectly, without feeling any emotion but his own. He reflected himself in the pool of blood of that murder committed by him and could saw himself there beside the Wendingo, while black horns were also coming out of his head.
So this was what it felt like to love a God? Give him your life, every moment of you, to receive in return that devotion and sincere love in his eyes?
Was this the price of love?
His God was a dark one and he wanted blood and Will wanted to please him, or rather... satisfy both. Stay with Hannibal meant flesh, and bloody screaming, but also art beauty and horror with silent moments of understanding between two similar souls.
When he opened his eyes their hands were still joined with blood and seal that pact, that union.
“What you offer me has the taste of eternity within these walls.”
Hannibal looked down and Will entwined their fingers, and with his free hand still stained with blood, caressed his cheek until Lecter looked at him.
The unknown and inviting terror of giving had been reached, the love of a dark God.
I found my religion.
“I will not run away again.”
He approached his face to Hannibal and saw his eyes shine as if there were rays of the sun inside them, and then their lips met sealing that union without further words. Then Will leaned on him, in the same way as he did on the cliff but without an end of the abyss below them. Hannibal held him with a sigh, laid his head on his and they stood still for several minutes.
After they sat on the first benches in silence, their hands holding together with fingers intertwined. A ray of sunshine peeked out of the window, but they stayed in the shadows watching that ray wet the church.
*Hozier
*Fanart that ispired me