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Christmas Eve was supposed to be quiet.
It always had been. Will and Hannibal were never particularly festive men; a few cups of Hannibal's homemade hot chocolate and some lounge time by the fire was perfect for them. Tomorrow morning, they would each exchange one gift - with a budget of a hundred dollars, after their first Christmas together involved a set of silver rings worth four figures traded for a single bag of fifty-dollar luxury coffee - and have great sex before sleeping the rest of the day away.
That was the plan for tonight. Hannibal had just handed Will his mug, still steaming, and Will licked his lips in anticipation. Hannibal always made the best hot chocolate; he only used the luxury stuff, and his homemade whipped cream was worth killing for. He made large batches, and sometimes Will would go in the fridge and steal a raw bite of it with a spoon. Hannibal certainly noticed the dent in the supply, but he never mentioned it.
It was their second year in a row celebrating at the house in Denmark. Hannibal knew the language well, and Will loved the scenery and weather that came with their small town. The autumns were beautiful: all deep orange leaves and cool breezes that put Wolf Trap to shame. The deer were bountiful here, as well, and Will liked to stand atop the hill in their backyard and watch them prance. He had no desire to hunt. It would have drawn too much attention.
A loud ring sounded from the kitchen as soon as Hannibal sat down. He sighed, setting his mug on the coffee table.
"Of course."
"Since when did we have a home phone?" Will asked, raising an eyebrow.
"I've always had it. It's in the dining room."
Will had never seen it in there before. The dining room was always too dimly lit, and dinner was always occupied with other matters. They were too immersed in their own conversation, too desperate to have the other's attention and that alone. Anything else was sacrilegious.
"We've been here two years, and we've never gotten a call on the damn home phone." Will frowned.
"I've only given the number to one person," Hannibal replied. He stood, putting a hand on Will's shoulder as he did so. "I'll be right back."
Before Will could ask more, Hannibal was gone. Will furrowed his brow, drowning his concerns in hot chocolate for just a moment. For all he knew, it could be Jack fucking Crawford on the line, and they'd be on the run in less than five minutes. Hannibal always kept him on the edge of his seat, which he both resented and accepted with open arms. There was always a part of him that refused to get comfortable, and there was always a part of him that was desperate for it after years of torment.
Hannibal spoke in Danish on the other end, the words ringing from the large dining room. That ruled out Jack. Will licked whipped cream off his lips and stared at the fire.
Who in the hell did Hannibal know who spoke Danish, didn't know or care about Hannibal's antics enough to tell the police where they were, and meant so little to Hannibal that he'd never mentioned them until now? It couldn't have been Mischa; she was dead, if Hannibal's stories were true. They were too fucked up to not be true, honestly.
If Hannibal had a mistress, her blood would be on the kitchen floor before Santa could come down the chimney tonight. Will knew that for sure.
He was fuming over the possibilities when Hannibal reentered the room and sat back down. Hannibal sighed, the only intelligible crack in his otherwise smooth demeanor. "It seems we have a Christmas visitor."
"Who the hell was that, Hannibal? What have you been keeping from me?" Will set his mug down, no longer interested in anything Hannibal had made. "I thought we were done with secrets."
"I never thought this would happen. I never thought it would be a relevant topic in our life." Hannibal swallowed. "I haven't seen my brother in over forty years—"
"Your brother?"
"Yes, my brother. My younger brother. He was an infant when our parents died, younger than Mischa."
"...Oh, shit." Those monsters had even put an infant through torture. Will suppressed a shudder.
"When we were rescued and put into the system, he was taken to live with a family here in Denmark. Infants go quicker than traumatized children, and he was gone before my uncle could take him. Things were different back then, and he had no method or reason to search for Lucas. He was likely better off somewhere else."
"Lucas." Will tested the name on his tongue. A younger version of the man before him, a man who shared the same blood as Will's husband. Was Lucas a murderer too? Is that why he didn't care to call the police?
"A month after I was arrested, about seven years ago now, I got a call from him. He wasn't even old enough to talk when we were separated. It was so strange to hear his voice...so grown. So similar to mine. He spoke broken English to try to communicate with me." Hannibal's eyes glazed over at the memory.
"The family that adopted him changed his last name, so he did not even know he was related to me. He saw my image in the news, and he was in utter shock." He smiled softly. "He told me we could be twins, we looked so similar. He brought the strange coincidence up to his adoptive parents, and they eventually admitted that he was a Lecter, as well. They didn't know about any of his siblings, since he and I were in different orphanages, but there was no other option. Same looks, same last name...my brother had found me."
Will sighed. "Christ. How did this not get out to the media? Anyone in the hospital?"
"Lucas only spoke Danish. And my phone calls were still private. No one had any way of knowing who I was talking to."
"Is he..." Will thought about how to phrase it. Each option seemed worse than the last. "Is Lucas like us?"
Hannibal let out a small laugh. "Not one bit," he replied. "From what I could gather, Lucas is a very kind man. Somewhat awkward at times, but very good-natured. One of the first things he asked me was 'why would you do something like this?' He told me he felt betrayed by me, the brother he never knew. I believe he felt more betrayed by the fact that there was supposedly evil in his blood when he'd always believed himself to be good."
"His ego couldn't handle the possibility of being known as evil, of being pinned as the brother of Hannibal Lecter," Will replied.
"Exactly. But his ego doesn't make him a bad man. He works with children. They all love him. He goes out drinking with his friends; he has an ex-wife and a son whom he loves dearly."
"How does he know our phone number?"
"During that first phone call, I didn't tell him anything suspicious. When he called me again, I realized there was a part of him that wanted me in his life. He wanted to know me. He wanted to make contact. That was the first sign of some dark inkling in him." Hannibal licked his lips. "One day, after a few months of us talking, he asked me if I was ever going to get out of prison."
"I trust that wasn't due to a misunderstanding of the American prison system?"
"Correct. He wanted to know if I had plans to escape." Hannibal placed his hand on Will's thigh, and his touch was so warm that it nearly melted the icy anger that chilled Will's veins. "I did not give any specific plans, but I told him I did not plan on being in prison for the rest of my life. He was silent for a long time after that, and then he hung up."
"But he called back." Will knew it without Hannibal having to say it. When it came to Hannibal Lecter, it was impossible not to come crawling back.
"He did. I remember his words perfectly well to this day. You are my brother, Hannibal. You are family. I do not want to see the only family I have left in a cage."
Will's face flushed. "Yeah, I'm sure you're real happy to have that shred of family left. You took me away from my family, Hannibal. You nearly got them killed, and you knew that I would likely do the same thing to Lucas. So you hid him from me like a coward."
Hannibal's expression hardened. "Lucas had nothing to do with our relationship. I still have yet to see him in person. I haven't for forty years. I was not even aware if he was alive or not until he called me five years ago."
"I wasn't even aware that Molly and Walter existed until about four years ago. That doesn't take away the fact that somehow you get to have family, and I don't."
"I wasn't using Lucas for my own selfish gain to appear 'normal,' Will," Hannibal snapped through clenched teeth, more bite in his voice than usual. "I wasn't subconsciously using Lucas as a shield or a weapon. You wielded your family to the public and used them as protection from the truth, yet when it came to me, you hoped to use your love for them as a blade to wound me."
"And Abigail? And my own biological child?"
"Abigail dug her own grave and begged me to bury her in it. You and I both know we would have harmed her worse than her own father did. There was no world for her without suffering. And your child was merely an idea. A concept. Margot was using you. She wouldn't have allowed you a single part in that child's life, and if she had, you would have irreparably damaged it."
Will had to stop himself from lashing out. It would do no good. He had no idea how else to react, though; it was the first time Hannibal had directly verbally attacked him. Hannibal was always gentle and suave with his words, even when talking about the most vile things. It was surprising to hear him this pissed.
"Maybe you're right," he ended up saying. "But are you trying to tell me that you're not a bad influence in Lucas's life? You corrupt everyone you touch. We both do. That's not an insult; that's a fact of life. It's why we're made for each other. We focus on the sweet smell within the rot. I would gladly let my skin fall off so your fingers could touch my bones. Corruption doesn't matter to the two of us, because we started out corrupted. But Lucas? Do you want to corrupt him? Why do you get to have him to yourself when you turn around and take any genuine connection I have away from me?"
"You must remember that I have also lost everything for you," Hannibal replied. "I lost my career, my reputation, any company who I could consider my friends. I gave it all up for you because you were the only thing that mattered."
"You took my fucking child away from me."
"The idea of a child, I believe is how you phrased it. You are more angry at the principle of that situation than the action itself. I cannot recall any anger on your part at the time; you are only angry now that I have something you don't." His copper eyes were both solid and molten; they were stern and cold, but a simultaneous rage burned within them. "You quite immediately grew numb to the truth. You told yourself you cared about that child, when in reality you were more angry about my manipulation than anything else."
"The only body you want my blood running through is yours. If I had a brother, you would have killed him."
"You may not understand, because you are an only child. But after what has happened to me, I would never, never, take your own established bloodline from you."
Will stared at him for a long moment, his jaw clenched. He'd only heard fleeting tales about Mischa, about the tragedy that struck the Lecter family, but he knew it was formative to the man that sat by him today. As much as Hannibal refused to admit it, he had been shaped by trauma. He was not indestructible. And apparently, this was his red line.
"Family is one of the most important things to me. And you are my family now; you are practically the only family I have. I would burn down this world for you. In fact, I would do much more for you than I would do for Lucas. But he has asked something small of me, and I would like to help him."
Will relented. In the end, his mind wouldn't allow him to be angry. He pulled away from Hannibal's touch and leaned back on the couch, rubbing his forehead. "Is he coming here? What does he want?"
"He didn't say much. He was crying. He said 'they are going to kill me,' and then he asked to come over."
"You told him where we live? Hannibal-"
"Lucas has no motivation nor desire to have us locked away. We made a deal when I was in prison that if he kept quiet about my plans to escape, I would help him in times of need. He's known where to find me ever since we escaped together."
"You...you gave him the phone number to every house we've been in the past four years?"
"Yes. I wanted him to be able to contact me if he needed. He has not done so until now. The only times we've spoken have been when I had to give him the new number."
"Do you know how much fucking danger that could have put us in?"
"Lucas is harmless. As he said, he has no desire to see me in a cage. He's a very lonely man. I think the mere idea of me existing out in the wild makes him feel less isolated."
"And you could tell all this from a few phone calls?"
"Yes."
Will shook his head. Hannibal was right; if Lucas had plans to expose them, he would have done so years ago. It was likely safe to have him over, but they had to be prepared.
"I'm gonna keep a gun in my pocket," Will said.
"Don't," Hannibal said. "You are entirely overestimating him. I don't believe he even knows that much about you."
"I'm never letting you live it down if he calls the authorities on us." Will lowered his brow. "I swear."
"You can hold me to it. I'm confident that we are safe."
They waited about another half hour, exchanging small remarks back and forth as the anger from their argument melted away. They had no reason to fight anymore. It wouldn't do them any good to look back on each and every way they had hurt each other. The teacup had shattered, and there was no reversing it. They were now focused on being potters, shaping new experiences in their hands instead of staring down in despair at the broken shards.
Hannibal put his arm around Will at some point, and Will accepted it.
Eventually, there was a knock at the door, and Will was the first one off the couch. "Family reunion," he said. "I need a front-row seat."
"It may be a little bit shocking," Hannibal warned, stepping around their four dogs that were running for the door as well. "The Lecter men are all very similar to one another."
"You worried I'll find him hotter than you?"
"Impossible. Let me open the door, please."
Will sneered at him before stepping aside. Hannibal wrapped his hand around the knob and took a deep breath before opening it.
The man on the other side was a near carbon copy of Hannibal Lecter. His face was a scarred, tear-streaked mess, but Will could still see the distinct cheekbones and maroon almond-shaped eyes that marked a Lecter. His hair was the same shade, his nose held the same slope, and his lips were just as thin. This man was nowhere near as well-kept, with his wet hair hanging in his face and his jawline marked with stubble, but he was still handsome. Will couldn't deny his attraction to the Lecter face.
Thin wire-frame glasses did nothing to hide Lucas's despair. He was curled into himself, weeping, and his face was covered in cuts and bruises. He wore a suit, but Will could tell it wasn't his usual dress; he seemed stiff in it, uncomfortable, just like Will felt in suits.
Hannibal didn't say a word. He stepped forward and placed a hand on Lucas's back, ushering him into the house, then he wrapped his arms around his brother.
"Hello, Lucas."
Lucas fell into his grasp, crying into his shoulder, and Hannibal spoke lowly into his ear in Danish. Lucas kept shaking his head. Will watched with rapture, looking back and forth between Hannibal and his younger clone. The dogs were curious, too, sniffing around Lucas's feet.
When Hannibal finally let go, the first thing Lucas did was kneel on the ground by the dogs. He gave them all equal attention, his first slight smile appearing on his face, but that facade soon fell once he laid his eyes on Maisie. She was the smallest of the bunch, and something about her struck Lucas in a way that brought more tears to his eyes. He scratched her ears and licked his dry lips.
Hannibal put a hand on his brother's shoulder, getting his attention. He gestured to Will.
"Will," he said. "Min mand." (1)
Lucas stared at Will, then cracked another small smile. His eyes crinkled in the same way Hannibal's did. "Vi er begge så voksne," he said. Even his voice was the same. He reached out to shake Will's hand. "Det er så ærgerligt, at jeg aldrig kendte dig." (2)
"Ja. Men vi er sammen nu." Hannibal urged him forward. "Kom og sæt dig ned. En drink?" (3)
Lucas shook his head and let himself be led into the foyer, where he sat on the couch with a shudder. The dogs continued to sniff him, likely drawn to the scent of blood on his face, and Will leaned over to Hannibal.
"I'm gonna go get the first aid kit."
"Thank you." Even Hannibal looked slightly shaken by his brother's condition. He squeezed Will's hand as Will walked away, nodding in gratitude.
Will retrieved their makeshift kit from the bathroom, making sure there were enough bandages and antiseptic for Lucas's wounds. He smirked; those wounds on Lucas's face were nothing compared to the ones he and his own husband had given to each other. Their capacity for forgiveness needed to be studied. Hannibal was likely already studying it, just like he did with everything else he came across. That man needed to know everything, and he was good at getting that information. By the end of the night, they would both learn anything and everything there was to know about Lucas. Hannibal had a way of getting facts out of people.
He eased his way back into the living room. Two identical voices murmured to each other in Danish, their faces mirror images of one another as they sat across from each other in the living room. Lucas sat in the armchair, his visage shadowed by the fireplace behind him. When Will entered, his eyes seemed to light up a little.
"T-Thank you," he said, the words unfamiliar on his tongue. Will nodded, then opened the kit and handed it to Hannibal.
"You want to help him?" Will asked. "You're the doctor."
The part he didn't say was still obvious, hanging in the air between them. I don't feel comfortable touching your brother. The brother I didn't know existed until half an hour ago. This is your job, and I don't want anything to do with it.
Hannibal didn't reply. He took the kit and leaned forward on the couch, bridging the gap between the furniture and examining Lucas's face.
"I'll translate," he said over his shoulder to Will. "Jeg vil oversætte. Vil du fortælle os, hvad der skete?" (4)
Every few sentences, Hannibal would throw an English translation Will's way. Lucas pet the dogs as he spoke, paying close attention to Maisie again.
"Lucas works at a kindergarten a few towns over," Hannibal said. "His best friend, Theo, has a daughter that goes to his school. She's rather young, and apparently her parents do not pay a lot of attention to her. Klara, is her name."
Will blinked, unsure of where this was going. He hoped it wouldn't take the route he thought; if that were the case, Lucas would be thrown into the fireplace without hesitation.
"He walks her to school when her parents refuse to. Lets her play with his dog. One day at school, a few weeks ago, she," Hannibal stops, speaking back to Lucas and getting a confirmation from him, "she kissed him. On the mouth. And she gave him a paper heart."
Will's upper lip curled slightly. Usually, children who lashed out like that had something going on at home, something that taught them to act in that manner. When it came to children, though, Will was always skeptical, and he chose to believe them over whoever they said was hurting them. Children were usually right.
Then again, Will knew exactly what it was like to be falsely accused. It was a nightmare. If this was the case, Lucas needed extra support, not skepticism.
"He told her after school that she wasn't allowed to do that, and she was upset. He gave the gift back to her and went home, but Klara wasn't over it. She told one of the other teachers at school that Lucas...exposed himself to her."
Will inhaled. "Hm."
"The rumor spread rather quickly. Theo wants nothing to do with him anymore, he lost his job, and he can't even go out to buy food without being attacked. He lives in a rather small town," Hannibal clarified. "They won't even tell him what he's supposedly done wrong, since the investigation is ongoing. He believes he's been accused of harming multiple children."
"And he hasn't been arrested?" Will asked. He wasn't entirely knowledgeable of the laws in Denmark, but he was rather sure that this type of behavior would be unacceptable to most. Even right now, he had no idea who to believe. Lucas could easily be lying.
"He has a son, Marcus, who ran away from his mother to come live with Lucas, but it wasn't safe for him. He's been getting into fights with townsfolk trying to protect his father. He was arrested, but there wasn't enough evidence to keep him there. In the hearing, Lucas heard the children describing a room in his basement. His home does not have a basement."
Will leaned back. "He's innocent, then," he said. "The children were clearly lying."
"That must not have made it out to the public yet," Hannibal replied. He lay the final bandage across Lucas's forehead. "Hvad bringer dig hertil?"
Lucas looked down at the dogs again, patting Maisie's head. "Denne. Hun ligner min hund."
Will had picked up enough Danish to recognize that sentence. "Hvad er hendes navn?"
"Fanny. De...de dræbte hende." (5)
He buried his face in his hands. Hannibal didn't have to translate - Will knew exactly what Lucas had said - but he did anyway.
"They killed her."
Will clenched his hands into fists. "Hvem gjorde det?" (6)
Lucas kept talking, and Hannibal translated. "Some people in town threw rocks through his windows and kidnapped his dog. By the time he found out she was gone...she was in a black bag at the front doorstep. He buried her alone in the backyard."
Will leaned forward, reaching over Hannibal's lap to place a hand on Lucas's knee. Lucas looked up at him, tears in his eyes. It was so similar to Hannibal's face that it made Will's heart instinctively warm.
"Jeg er meget ked af det. Jeg tror dig." (7)
"Thank you," Lucas replied, nodding. "Will, thank you."
"At least someone knows how to say thank you. Can finally respect my contributions," Will quipped, glaring playfully over at Hannibal. Hannibal returned a small smirk back, but it faded when Lucas spoke again.
"Everyone believes Klara," Hannibal translated. "No one believes him."
"I understand," Will said. "I get it. I know what it's like to not be believed, and it's pure hell."
Hannibal translated this, then relayed back what Lucas said in return. "He insists he didn't do this. That's the main thing he wants us to know. He wants nothing to do with children in that manner. He's not..."
"He's not Mason Verger."
"No."
"I trust him. I trust you." Will nodded to them both. "It's a little creepy how much you look alike, but that's the only thing unsettling about this guy."
"Was there someone in particular responsible for the rumors? Who started this?"
Hannibal asked, then translated. "One of the women working at the school. The first one Klara spoke to. Her brother is the one behind most of the attacks. The one on Lucas's house, in particular."
"Lucas." Will crouched on the ground, getting closer to Lucas's level. The three of them were huddled close now, a man looking back and forth between two identical faces: one he loved, and one he didn't know. "Vil du have os til at dræbe ham?"
Lucas blinked, eyes wide as he glanced over at Hannibal, then back at Will. Eventually, his shocked expression changed into a bewildered laugh, and he rubbed his forehead. He winced once his fingers came into contact with a bandaged wound, and Hannibal instinctively reached forward to help.
"Jeg glemte næsten, hvad du er," he said. "Han er ligesom dig."
"Jeg er heldig at have ham." Hannibal smiled. "Well?"
Lucas shook his head. "Jeg ville kun have et kendt ansigt." (8)
"What's he saying?" Will asked impatiently.
"He said, 'I almost forgot what you are. He is just like you,'" Hannibal replied. "And that he just wanted a familiar face. Not murder."
"Well, this is familiar, alright." Will shook his head in disbelief. "I can't believe you didn't tell me about this."
"You can be angry all you wish. I don't blame you. But I do expect you to be cordial to our guest."
"Of course. To do otherwise would be rude." Will stood. "Tell him he can stay however long he wants, but we can't have anyone else finding us. That's my condition."
"No one would know to look here." Hannibal exchanged a few words with his brother. "He left his phone at home. I told him to."
"Good. We have proper leftovers, yes? Things that are not...our typical taste?"
"Plenty. Mad, Lucas?" (9)
"Yes." Lucas nodded. "Yes, thank you."
"I'm going to make him a plate." Hannibal gave Will a quick kiss on the cheek before heading for the kitchen. When it was just the two of them, and Will could see Lucas's profile lit by the fireplace behind him, he could pretend that he was sitting across from Hannibal. If he wasn't wearing those clothes, he would have been the spitting image.
"Lucas."
Lucas broke his gaze from the floor to look at Will. There were tears glistening in his eyes.
"Vi vil holde dig sikker her." (10)
Those tears fell. "Thank you." He leaned down to pet Maisie again. "Thank you."
Christmas Eve was still going to be quiet, but there would be one more face. One very, very familiar face.