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Will was lying face down on the library couch. He wasn't dead, but he was sure boredom would eventually do what more than one serial killer—Hannibal included—had failed to do.
He and Hannibal were currently living in Frankfurt, Germany, but who knew for how long? The year they spent in Cuba to heal their wounds after killing the Red Dragon had been their most prolonged stay in one place. After that, with Chiyoh's help, they had been hopping from country to country for the last year and a half.
Luke, the fluffy stray dog Will adopted during their month in Spain, wandered into the library and sat next to the couch, demanding attention. Will obliged and scratched him behind the ears. Hannibal didn't like the dog in the library, but he never said anything when Will let him in.
He sighed. Luke looked a bit like Winston, and sometimes, when he looked at the dog, Will’s chest ached at the memory of his pack left behind in the States. He calmed himself thinking that Molly would take good care of them. But he still missed them terribly.
Will was not okay. He hadn't wanted to leave Cuba. He liked the weather there, living near the beach, and the relative solitude they enjoyed. Sometimes, it felt almost like he and Hannibal were the only two people alive. He wished they could have stayed there forever or at least had a permanent home somewhere. He was tired of having to move constantly.
Sometimes, they stayed in a country for a couple of weeks, sometimes for a couple of months. The only thing Will knew was that as soon as he started getting used to the new house or country, they were already moving again. They had been in Germany for four months, and this time, Will wasn't even trying to adapt. For what? It’ll probably be time to leave soon. Again.
Hannibal had explained that it had to be this way to throw off the FBI, but he said it wouldn't be that way forever, that they would have a permanent home soon.
Soon.
Will didn't know when "soon" would be, but he was tired. He was tired of having to use a different name every time they moved, of not having a real home, of everything.
Will heard the front door open and close, followed by Hannibal's voice.
“Will? Are you home?” he heard Hannibal ask.
Hannibal asked the same question every time he came home from who-knows-where. Will thought it was a stupid question. First of all, with his sense of smell, Hannibal should have known Will was there as soon as he opened the door. Second of all, where the hell would Will go? He didn't know anyone in this town, nor did he have any interest in meeting anyone. Truth be told, Will was neglecting Luke a bit. He seldom took him out for walks, settling for letting him loose in the house's spacious backyard. It would have to do for now.
“Here you are,” Hannibal said from the library’s doorway.
“I was taking a nap,” Will lied, sitting up on the couch.
Hannibal ambled over to him and kissed him on the cheek before sitting next to him on the couch. In his hands, he held a package wrapped with a pretty bow.
"I brought something for you," Hannibal said, passing him the package.
Will accepted the gift.
"Thank you," he said but did not open it to see what it was.
"Don't you want to open it?" Hannibal asked.
“Maybe later,” Will replied in a disinterested tone.
They lapsed into an awkward silence. Such silences were becoming more and more common.
“Will, talk to me, please,” Hannibal begged in a low voice.
"What do you want me to say?" Will's tone of voice was curt. That was another thing that was becoming more and more common, too.
“I want you to tell me how you feel.”
Will snorted.
"Why? Do you want to psychoanalyze me? I thought we were past that, Dr. Lecter," Will answered sarcastically.
"No, Will," Hannibal said, "that's not what I want. I just want to know what I can do to make you feel better."
Suddenly, Will was completely overcome with anger.
"So now you want me to feel better," Will snapped. "It's funny because I haven't felt good since I met you."
The expression on Hannibal's face was neutral, but Will could see one of his eyebrows twitch.
"Will, I know you're having a hard time adjusting to this nomadic lifestyle," Hannibal said, using his psychiatrist's tone. For some reason, that only made Will angrier. "But I've already explained to you that it's necessary—"
"Necessary for you, perhaps," Will interrupted, though he knew Hannibal hated being interrupted. "You're one of the FBI's most wanted criminals; I'm sure they won't be so harsh on me."
Hannibal looked away from Will and directly at one of the shelves lined with books.
"There's no need to be so rude," Hannibal said in a stern voice, still staring at the books intently.
Will let a bitter laugh.
“I'm fed up with all this,” he said.
“Maybe you should have thought of that before throwing us off a cliff,” Hannibal said, still not looking at Will.
The comment was gasoline for Will's fire.
“You're right, I should have thought of that.” Will's voice was full of venom. “I should have thrown you off that fucking cliff and gone home to my wife and dogs.”
Will knew that was a low blow, but the frustration and stress had been building up, and now he'd found an outlet—Hannibal.
“You ruined my life,” Will continued. The more rational part of his brain knew he had to stop, that he was crossing a line. Will was there with Hannibal because he wanted to be, but it was as if a dam had burst, and those hurtful words were pouring out of him in an unstoppable torrent. “You stole my chance to be a normal person and turned me into a criminal like you. You have no idea how much I hate you for that.”
Hannibal stood up suddenly. His fists were clenched, but his hands were still shaking. For the first time since Will had begun his tirade, Hannibal met his gaze. Will went cold. The expression on Hannibal's face was…
Will's anger disappeared almost as quickly as it had appeared. What he felt now was nausea and guilt.
"Hannibal..." Will began, though he wasn't sure what he was going to say next. He didn't think a simple apology would be well received at that moment.
In the end, it didn't matter, as Hannibal strode out of the room without glancing back at him. Will heard the door slam shut.
He lay back face down on the couch. Luke had left the library at some point. The poor guy was probably startled by his yelling.
Will curled up as much as he could, but as he did so, one of his legs hit something, and it fell to the floor with a loud clatter. Peeking out, Will saw that it was Hannibal's gift. With a sigh, Will sat up and picked it up.
It was well-wrapped, and the ribbon was large and pretty. Will usually tore the wrapping when opening gifts because he thought the content was important, not the wrapping. But he felt Hannibal was the type to carefully remove wrapping paper so as not to tear it, so he carefully peeled off the tape and removed the paper, which remained intact.
Will had to stifle a sob as he revealed the contents of the package. It was a lure-tying kit with quality tools, but the feathers were the best part. He'd never had ones as beautiful as these. They came in so many colors, and as he stroked them with his finger, Will knew they were real, not synthetic. The gesture touched him.
If he was already feeling bad about the things he'd said to Hannibal, now he felt like an asshole. It was true that he'd hated Hannibal in the past, but not anymore. He just didn't like having to move so much, trying to get used to one country only to have to start over somewhere else too soon. He missed the life they had in Cuba.
With a sigh, Will ran a hand through his hair. Hannibal always did his best to make him feel comfortable. What he had said had been uncalled for. Hannibal was probably out for a walk and to calm down, so Will decided to make dinner for a change. It would be his way of apologizing for being so rude. He might not have been on Hannibal's level of cooking, but Will wasn't a terrible cook.
He went to the kitchen and decided to prepare steak. Will was sure that if he greeted him with a meal he'd prepared and then went up to the bedroom, Hannibal's anger would subside. Besides, Hannibal had done worse things to Will than just some mean words, and Will had forgiven him.
“Everything will be okay,” he told himself as he cut the meat for their dinner.
*****
It was past midnight, and the food lay untouched on the table. Hannibal hadn't returned yet. When ten o'clock at night rolled around with no sign of him, Will called him, only to discover he'd left his cell phone on the hall table.
At first, Will was annoyed, convinced that Hannibal was just being petty, but as the hours passed and the morning came, he became concerned. They'd had a couple of nasty fights in their years together, but Hannibal had never left the house for so long or spent the night out.
Anxiety was driving Will crazy, and he paced around the room, wondering how he'd know if anything had happened to Hannibal. No one else had his contact information, and Will didn't know how to reach Chiyoh.
Will fell asleep only because he could no longer bear the tiredness. By then, the sun was already rising over the horizon.
*****
When Will woke up, it was almost noon. At first, he couldn't remember why he'd slept in the living room and not the bedroom, but memories of the previous day came flooding back. He jumped to his feet.
“Hannibal?” Will called.
He looked for him in the kitchen, the bedroom, and the bathroom. Nothing. Hannibal hadn't come home. As he passed through the dining room, Will saw the food he had prepared for dinner the night before and felt his stomach ache.
Luke appeared next to him, barking and nibbling at his ankle. He was hungry. Will simply took one of the dishes with uneaten food and set it on the floor for Luke to eat. Hannibal would have been pissed at that, but he wasn't there to see it.
*****
By the third day, Will was sure something had to have happened to Hannibal. He wouldn't leave Will stranded in a country he didn't know, would he?
“Maybe he would if he decided it’s not worth living with someone like you,” a treacherous voice whispered in his head.
Will had no idea where to look for Hannibal. He didn't know the city, didn't speak the language, and had no idea how to navigate public transportation in this country. He now regretted not taking Hannibal up on his offer to get him a car, too. He also didn't know where Hannibal went when he left the house. Will thought Hannibal had told him at some point, but he was so busy feeling sorry for himself that he hadn’t paid attention.
"Shit," Will whispered to himself, lying in their bed, but on Hannibal's side. His eyes filled with tears as he recalled the hurt expression on Hannibal's face.
*****
A week.
A week had passed since Hannibal stormed out of the house, furious at Will, who no longer believed anything terrible had happened to him. He was now certain that Hannibal had abandoned him.
Will couldn't remember what his last meal had been. He'd drunk almost all of the liquor in the house. He was currently drinking wine straight from the bottle and wearing a shirt and dress pants Hannibal had ordered custom-made for him. It was unfortunate that the shirt was white because it now had several red wine stains.
At some point during his binge drinking, Will had started crying and just couldn't stop.
"I'm sorry," he repeated over and over in between sobs. His apologies were directed at Hannibal, even though he wasn't there to hear them. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you." He took another sip of wine. "You promised you wouldn't leave me," he said. "You damn liar, I never should have trusted you."
Will smashed the wine bottle against the wall. The bottle shattered, cutting his palm in the process. A rivulet of blood flowed from the wound and trickled down his wrist, adding more red stains to his once pure white shirt. His crying intensified, and his legs could no longer support him. He slumped against the wall, stained with blood and wine.
“I don't want to be alone,” he cried. “Not again.”
Will didn’t know how much time had passed. Maybe a few minutes or a few hours. He wasn't sure, and frankly, he didn't care. He didn't even hear when someone entered the house.
"Hannibal, are you home?" Someone called, but Will wasn't paying attention. He heard footsteps and Luke barking. "Will? What happened? Where's Hannibal?" Someone stood right in front of him, but all Will could see were jeans-clad legs. "Will, tell me what happened."
The person knelt before him, and Will finally recognized her. It was Chiyoh.
"Answer me!" she demanded. "What happened to you? Why are you bleeding? Where is Hannibal?"
"He's gone," Will answered, his voice breaking.
"What do you mean he’s gone?" she asked, wrinkling her nose. "Did you... Did you piss yourself?"
In any other situation, Will would have been ashamed of himself for losing control of his bladder and pissing his pants, but in his current state, that was the least of his problems.
“He's gone,” he repeated.
Chiyoh grabbed him roughly by his shirt collar. “What did you do to Hannibal?”
Will, still crying, couldn't answer.
"I knew we couldn't trust you," Chiyoh barked. "I warned him, I warned him so many times..."
Chiyoh continued her tirade, but Will wasn't listening anymore. In his mind, he was at the stream, with Hannibal by his side. But his peaceful vision was interrupted suddenly.
"That's enough, Chiyoh. Leave him alone." It was Hannibal's voice, not in his mind, but right there, next to him.
When he opened his eyes, it was no longer Chiyoh kneeling in front of him, but Hannibal. The brief respite from crying was over. Will's tears began to flow again. Despite being so close, leaning down enough to rest his forehead on Hannibal's shoulder felt like a Herculean effort. He was so fucking tired.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Will whispered.
For a moment, Will feared Hannibal would push him away. If he did it, he was sure that rejection would be the end of him. To his relief, Hannibal didn't push him away but instead wrapped one arm around him and stroked his matted curls with the other. If he weren't already crying, the gesture would have made him shed even more tears. Where the hell were so many tears coming from? He'd never cried so much in his life. Maybe when he was a baby, but never since then. If he didn't stop soon, he'd end up withered like a slug covered in salt.
"Hannibal, please tell me what's going on," Chiyoh asked. "When I walked in and found him like this, I feared the worst—"
“I'll explain another day, Chiyoh. Now it's better if you go,” Hannibal said.
“But Hannibal—”
“Not now, Chiyoh. Please leave.”
Will didn't know if she insisted or did what Hannibal asked without question because, at that moment, sleep decided to claim him.
******
When he woke up, Will didn't know what day or time it was, but at least he recognized his room. He was wearing clean pajamas, and his hair wasn't all tangled anymore. Through the throbbing headache from his hangover, Will remembered what had happened the last time he'd been conscious. Had Hannibal really been there, or had he just imagined it?
Getting out of bed to look for him seemed like a daunting task, but luckily for Will, Hannibal chose that moment to enter the room.
"This will help you," Hannibal told him, handing him a glass of water followed by some pills. Ibuprofen. Will took them along with the cold water. His mouth was as dry as the desert.
"What time is it?" Will asked, carefully lying down on the bed again.
"Two o'clock in the afternoon," Hannibal replied, sitting on the edge of the bed. "You've been asleep for almost twenty-four hours."
Will sighed, massaging his temples.
“Did you—?” he hesitated. “Did you bathe me?”
“Yes,” Hannibal confirmed.
Will was sure his face was completely red from the humiliation he felt. Hannibal quickly understood what was happening.
"You don’t have to worry about it," Hannibal reassured him. "I have been covered in your bodily fluids before."
That was a terrible way to make him feel better, but Will couldn't help but chuckle. But when he remembered the hell he'd been through the entire week, alone, any trace of humor vanished.
"Where the hell were you?" Will asked, his voice shaking, his eyes unable to meet Hannibal’s.
"Out," Hannibal replied simply.
"Were you with someone else?" Will clenched his teeth so hard his jaw hurt. This time, he looked into his eyes; he needed to know.
"No," Hannibal answered without a second's hesitation, and Will knew it was true.
Hannibal may have been alone that week, but the real problem was that he wasn't where he had to be, which was by Will's side.
“You said you'd never leave me. You promised,” that sounded childish even to Will's ears, but he couldn't help it. “I thought something must have happened because you'd never leave me, but that's what you did, you bastard.”
Hannibal grabbed Will's wrist. He tried to break away from his grasp, but Hannibal didn't let go of him. He squeezed harder.
"People often say I don't have feelings," Hannibal said. "Ever since I met you, I have wished more than once that were true, but it’s not. I'm not made of stone, Will. I did not have to sit there and take a verbal attack from you."
There were the damn tears again. No wonder Will was so thirsty when he woke up.
"But why did you have to be gone for so long?" Will asked. A hot tear fell down his cheek. "You didn't even take your phone. I didn't know where you were."
Hannibal wiped the tear with his thumb.
"I was afraid I would hurt you that day," Hannibal explained. "I also promised I wouldn't hurt you again, so I decided it was best to leave."
Hannibal may not have hurt him physically when he left, but it certainly hurt emotionally. The worst part was that Will didn't feel like he should be complaining; he was the one who had started a fight out of nowhere, after all.
"I'm sorry," Will apologized, wanting to put all this behind them.
Hannibal lay down next to Will, put his arm around him, and placed a kiss on his forehead. Will moved as close to him as he could, wishing he could merge with Hannibal so they would never be separated again.
"Was Chiyoh here too?" Will asked after a moment of comfortable silence.
"Yes," Hannibal replied, still playing with his curls. "I forgot I asked her to come."
"What for?" Will asked, embarrassed because Chiyoh also saw him in such a sorry state.
“I was planning to get your dogs back with her help.”
Will sat up in bed so fast he felt dizzy. Hannibal looked at him curiously, as if he hadn’t just dropped a bomb on Will.
“What? Hannibal, what…?”
"I wasn't planning on harming your ex-wife if that's what you're worried about," Hannibal clarified. "I don't think I can bring them all back, but at least you'll have part of your pack back."
"It'll be difficult to move around so often with dogs," Will pointed out but quickly regretted it. He really wanted his pack back, or at least part of it.
“I wanted to talk to Chiyoh about that too,” Hannibal continued. “I wanted her to help us find a house. A permanent one this time. I was thinking about France. Not Paris because I know you don't like big cities, but in the countryside, somewhere with a stream nearby so you can fish. Or maybe Corsica. It's an island. We can look for a house near the beach like the one in Cuba.
Will laid back down and hid his face in Hannibal's neck. “Why didn't you tell me?”
Hannibal shrugged, or rather, he tried to because their position made movement difficult.
“I wanted to surprise you with the dogs,” he said.
Will sighed and pulled away just far enough to speak face to face with Hannibal.
"I'm sorry I was such an ass to you," Will apologized.
Hannibal caressed his cheek and kissed him on the mouth once, twice, three times.
“‘You are altogether beautiful, my love; there is no flaw in you,’”* he recited. “Even if you didn’t ask for my forgiveness, I would still forgive you. There’s nothing you can do to make me stop loving you.”
Will was grinning from ear to ear. He kissed Hannibal again, deeply, and practically melted beside him.
"You're a weird guy," Will joked. "I act like a dick to you and you reward me. That's a bad idea."
Hannibal chuckled and held Will closer to his body.
"And what are you going to do? Sue me?" Hannibal asked, amused and sporting a wide grin.
Will replied to that with a kiss on Hannibal’s jaw.
"Why don't we go for a walk tomorrow?" Hannibal suggested a little while later. "We can take Luke so he can see the city a bit."
"I'd love to," Will replied.
Hannibal listed several places they could go, but Will would let him choose. He didn't care if they moved a thousand more times; he just wanted to be with Hannibal.
They stayed in bed until Will's stomach growled with hunger. He couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten. Hannibal immediately went to make dinner for him, and later, when Will stuffed himself with dessert, he didn't scold him about overeating sweets like he usually did—Will never listened to him anyway. It was almost like Hannibal was the one apologizing and not the other way around, but Will wasn't complaining.
They hadn't gone hunting in months, and Will thought it was time. Was there anything better than hunting and cooking a pig together to strengthen their bond? If there was, Will didn't care.
I wouldn’t trade this life for the world, he thought as he placed a hand over Hannibal’s on the table and squeezed. Hannibal returned the gesture with a smile over his wine glass.