Chapter Text
Hannibal Lecter was a solitary creature. He was not anti-social- far from it actually, with his dinner parties and philanthropic works- but he had never felt the urge to let anyone else into his life. His true self was always hidden beneath the human veil and those who did glimpse underneath it generally ended up on his dinner table.
Until Will Graham, that is.
It wasn’t that he was lonely, at least not in the usual definition of the word. As a matter of fact, before Will, with his empathy and delicious darkness, came into his life, he had not even entertained any thoughts of companionship. It wasn’t as if he could find a partner like normal people, with his unusual proclivities.
But Will was… different. Special. A being of pure empathy, capable of assuming anyone’s mindset, with a penchant for the darkest of minds. Yet, he managed to maintain firm holds over his own mind and personality.
It was no wonder that Hannibal was intrigued. Perhaps obsessively so.
Maybe, if Will had not embraced his own darkness, things would have been different. Then, perhaps, he truly would have been unstable and broken like the persona he presented to Jack and the others. But even then, Hannibal is sure that Will would’ve captured his interest, if in a somewhat different capacity.
Because Will- only Will- had the capacity to see, to understand him. All of him. And that was an opportunity Hannibal simply couldn’t pass up.
*
Will didn’t know what possessed him to go to Hannibal’s house instead of his office. Yes, it was quite past office hours now, but that delay was completely intentional on his part. He was curious, though, to see the man in his home turf. While he had no doubt that the office was his playground as well, there was a certain thrill he felt at the thought of observing this predator in his own home.
Hannibal opened the door just a few seconds after he knocked and if he was surprised to find Will on his doorstep, he didn’t show it. If anything, he seemed pleased.
“Will! Please, come in,” he said and stepped aside, still holding the door open. With a smile, Will entered, deliberately brushing against the psychiatrist as he did so.
“I was about to cook. Would you care to join me in the kitchen?” Hannibal asked as he closed the door, not even bothering to ask why Will had shown up unannounced at his house. Had Jack called him again?
“Of course.”
Hannibal’s house was pretty much like he expected. Refined, elegant and quite impersonal. The furnishings and numerous artworks that adorned the place certainly suited the man, but they told you nothing about the person under the veil.
The kitchen, though, was another matter entirely. The second he stepped inside, he could see that this was the heart of the house. It had a warmth that the rest of it lacked. He liked the place.
Immersed in his observations, it took him a while to realize that Hannibal was talking to him.
“I’m sorry, what?” he asked, turning to face the man in question, only to find that he had shed his coat and vest and was now clad in a simple beige shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, a white apron tied around his waist.
It was a very nice sight.
Hannibal smiled, though Will didn’t know if it was at his words or at the thoughts he made no effort to hide.
“Jack Crawford called me.” Ah, just as he thought. “He told me about Stammets. Once again, he wants me to make sure that you are sane and functional so that he can have a clear conscience.”
“Jack needs his beauty sleep.” Will said with a snort, indulging in a brief fantasy of choking the life out of Jack as rage and betrayal flashed in his eyes. “So you’ve been expecting me?”
Hannibal just smiled as he set about slicing… something.
“Apparently, I’m like catnip to serial killers.” Will added as he went to lean against a wall where he could stay out of the way and still watch Hannibal cook. Which was a bit like porn, really. The man was so completely in his element here that every moment was sensual.
“This has happened before?”
“On record, no. Most of it was when I was a cop. And that was all before Freddie’s lovely little article on me. I dread to think of what will happen now.” He wanted the attention of only one killer and that man was currently in the room with him, expertly mincing meat and looking rather… edible. No pun intended, of course.
“You are a complex creature, Will Graham. I don’t quite understand you.” And he already had that particular person’s attention, so why bother with other lowlife?
“The feeling is mutual.” He was sure that there was more to this man than the Ripper or the Copycat. The beauty he created from death was an important facet of him, but it was still just a facet. It wasn’t enough for him to put together a full picture of Hannibal Lecter. He was missing pieces.
“The Chesapeake Ripper views his victims as swine. He takes their organs because he views them as pigs unworthy of them. Their very existence is offending to him. They’re not people to him, simply food.” Will kept his eyes on the doctor as he recited his profile of the Ripper. “Am I right so far?” he asked unnecessarily, knowing full well that he was.
“I can understand why you kill the rude,” he continued when no reply was forthcoming. “But why do you eat them?” Will’s taste for blood had no particular reason behind it but something told him that the basis for Hannibal’s cannibalism went far beyond simple fascination or curiosity.
Only silence greeted him. Apparently, the reason behind it was a bit sensitive. Time to venture into safer waters then.
“But the Ripper isn’t your only persona. He’s just an excuse for you to display your art and humiliate your prey. And Cassie Boyle was killed as a gift to me, to help me see the Shrike’s face. I have no doubt that you have more victims. Where are the others? Are they hidden, never to be found? Or are they camouflaged as ordinary, everyday deaths?
Hannibal finally turned to face him, a feral smile on his face and eyes much darker than he’d seen before. The monster inside was finally showing his face. Will grinned in sheer delight.
“You really do have an exceptional mind, William.” He purred, locking gazes with Will. The doctor did have impressive control over his own mind, to keep Will from accidentally being drawn inside. What would happen if he tried it on purpose? With permission, of course.
Would he drown-as he often did- or would he finally soar?
“Perhaps I shall tell you one day.” Will jerked out of his thoughts at Hannibal’s softly-spoken words. He knew instantly that they referred to the enigmatic reason behind the man’s cannibalism.
Will grinned at the near-promise and leaned more comfortably against the wall. He could wait.
“So, who’s for dinner?”
*
Will wasn’t quite sure why he was in Minnesota again. He had no business here; Jack did plan to do a more detailed search of Hobbs’ cabin later on, but that was no reason for him ‘visit’ the Hobbs’ house again. At least no other reason than the annoying frustration that had gripped him after those damned dreams.
Yet, there he was, standing in the very spot where Abigail Hobbs had bled to death in his arms. He sighed. A part of him regretted letting her die. The logical part of him knew that was the safe thing to do. She’d only have been a liability, as Hannibal had so aptly put it. But you couldn’t be an empath and rely completely on logic. So, he still felt her loss. He didn’t like how much Garrett Jacob Hobbs affected him. It had been a very long time since a killer other than himself had taken up residence in his brain like this. True, he had exercised most of the man, but that obsession still lingered.
Now, what was to be done about that?
Oh, who was he kidding, he knew exactly what he was going to do. All he had to do was find the right person.
So when the girl barged into the kitchen, face set into an expression of seething irritation, he felt like fate was gifting him.
“Who the fuck are you, you creep?” she spat out, tossing back her hair- so much like Abigail’s- and putting both hands on her hips in a futile effort to be intimidating.
“I’m with the F.B.I,” he replied, flashing his badge in a way that hid his ‘Special Agent’ status. He also didn’t want her to learn his name if he could avoid it. “And who are you?”
“Marissa Schurr. I’m a neighbor. Now, what the hell are you doing here?”
A neighbor… how interesting. He wondered why she had survived so very long right under Garrett Jacob Hobbs nose.
“You do realize this case is not closed yet, don’t you Miss Schurr?” he drawled in a deliberate tone that was just short of patronizing. “Did you know Abigail Hobbs?”
“Yeah, I knew her. I was her best friend.” Ah, that’d explain why you’re still alive.
“Why are you here, Miss Schurr?” he asked, putting just the right amount of authority into his voice to ensure an answer. It worked. She answered, frowning.
“I saw you entering the house and thought you were a creep like the bitches that painted that shit outside.”
“Hm. I wasn’t planning on talking to the neighbors, but since you’re here, can you answer a few questions?”
She frowned again, but nodded and leaned back against the wall.
“Yeah, whatever. Make it quick, though. My mom doesn’t know I’m here and the bitch would throw a fucking hissy fit if she finds out.”
Will held back a grimace at the girl’s words. How very rude. Hannibal would certainly approve of this choice, which was good, given how he intended for her to be a gift for the doctor, just as Cassie had been a gift for Will.
He spent the next few minutes asking Marissa utterly pointless questions disguised as standard queries. Was there anything strange about the Hobbs? Had Abigail spent a lot of time with her father? Did she ever mention anything weird about him?
The young woman answered honestly enough, even going as far as to add that most people believed Abigail helped her father(of course she did), but that she thought it was total bullshit.
Will left shortly after her, discreetly taking note of the house she disappeared into before getting into his rental and driving away.
He didn’t go far, stopping on an isolated stretch of road and hiding the vehicle before making his way back on foot.
*
It had been so easy to hunt her down, the rebellious teenager sneaking out in the middle of the night, probably to go to some party.
The terrified recognition in her eyes when he’d cornered her had been delicious.
He kept her unconscious until they reached Hobbs’ cabin. The place was wonderfully isolated and so very perfect. No one within the area to hear her scream. Except him.
And scream she did. Loud, terrified shouts that quieted down into pitiable little shrieks due to shock and blood loss. Those too died when he began carving out her heart. Will never administered any drugs to heighten his prey’s suffering or lengthen their lives. He preferred their reactions to be more natural; reveled in each pained gasp and every tortured plea. Marissa was no exception, even though his hands were gentle, almost loving, as he cut open her chest and tore out her heart, taking care to keep it intact.
He did not drain her blood as he often did. This had to be passed off as the copycat’s work after all. He still took some, of course.
Will was stronger than he looked, the bulky layers of plaid and cheap wool hiding the corded muscles and exceptional strength that his… activities required. So it took very little effort to mount the nude body of the girl on the rack of antlers, her dark hair falling forward to cover her breasts. Will needed this to be sensual, not sexual.
After he was done, he stepped back and admired his work. The stitches on her chest were barely visible and perfectly done. He was no surgeon, but he had learned as a teenager to sew skin back together and had honed the skill over the years. It wasn’t like he lacked bodies to practice upon.
Satisfied with his work, Will picked up the two coolers containing his prizes and made his way out of the cabin, already picturing the reactions his work would evoke. Of course, only one person’s mattered, but it would still be fun to see the look on Jack’s face when he saw her.
He was grinning as he drove away.
*
Will kept the excitement pooling deep in his gut off his face as he walked into the cabin alongside Jack and Hannibal. The head of BAU had inadvertently made things easier for him by inviting the doctor. It’d saved Will the trouble of suggesting it.
There was nothing here that would help them, Will knew. Garrett Jacob Hobbs wouldn’t have left behind any part of the girls he’d killed. No, he would have honored every part of them. The only thing they were going to find was dear Marissa, more beautiful in death than she could ever have been in life.
He grinned, wide and wild, hidden from Jack as a drop of blood splattered on to one of Hannibal’s cheeks. How apt that it should fall on him.
They hurriedly climbed the stairs, Jack leading, and froze when she came into sight. She looked beautiful and perfect in his eyes; an offering.
He barely paid any attention to Jack hen he pulled out a cell phone and murmured hastily into it, “I need ERT at the Hobbs cabin.” His eyes were fixed on Hannibal, eager to gauge his reaction as the man drank in the sight before him.
Their gazes connected and Will knew that Hannibal knew this was a gift. Something in return for the one he’d received. Something to push this little game of theirs to the next level. The delighted spark in the doctor’s eyes sent a thrill coursing through his body.
Will took a deep breath and shoved away his excitement and pleasure. He had to keep up appearances for Jack, after all. He pushed past the man and approached Marissa’s body, gently raising her head to get a good look at her face. Her eyes were closed and she looked peaceful, as if she were simply sleeping. He released her and stepped back, careful not to lock eyes with Hannibal.
“She fits Hobbs’ profile, Jack.”
Jack was frowning, visibly vexed at this new development. Will had been right; Jack’s reaction was quite entertaining. The F.B.I Agent shook his head angrily and said, “Hobbs is dead. And you said the Copycat would never kill like this again. So what the hell is this?”
Will twisted his expression into a pained grimace even as the monster inside of him howled with joy. As glad as he was that his gift was well-received, there was no denying the heady rush he felt at the sight of his work displayed and admired. Any risk of accepting Jack’s offer was worth this.
His voice was filled with frustration he didn’t feel when he replied, “I said he may never killer like this again. Evidently, I was wrong.”
No, he was not. Although, he was pretty sure that Marissa would have met her end at Hannibal’s hands if the doctor had ever met her. She was so very rude.
“What else were you wrong about?”
He fought back a sigh, already tiring of Jack. God, the man was so fucking predictable at times. And irritating as hell.
“Whoever killed the girl in the field killed this one. I’m right about that. He knew exactly how to mount the body. Wound patterns are almost identical to Cassie Boyle. We’ll need to see if this one’s missing any organs. But still, the same design, the same humiliation.”
Now, he did look at Hannibal, standing a little behind Jack, making no effort to hide his mirth, presumably at how Will copied the work of his Copycat persona. And as much as he wanted to grin back, he couldn’t with Jack watching.
The rest of his time at the cabin was boring and pretty unremarkable, especially as Jack insisted he stay and answer totally useless queries. Still, he didn’t complain, mostly because he was quite eager to see Jack and his team try and fail spectacularly to find any evidence on dear Marissa’s body.
However, he managed to catch Hannibal as the other was on his way out- again per Jack’s wishes- muttering a quiet, ‘Come visit me tomorrow”, before taking off, grinning at Hannibal’s bemused smile.
*
Hannibal, being Hannibal, called him the next morning to know precisely when he was expected. Even after Will told him to come around by seven in the evening, the good doctor didn’t even ask about the reason behind the abrupt invitation. And though Will was sure that he had some idea about it, he was still impressed by Hannibal’s patience. It was a necessary skill for those with their hobbies, but Hannibal’s had a rather preternatural feel to it. It was fascinating.
He went to work as usual, taking immense pleasure in the lovely combination of anger, frustration, impatience and more anger that Jack was oozing. Between Will, Hannibal and the plethora of serial killers that Maryland seemed to house, Jack would be driven to early retirement. If someone didn’t kill him first.
Marissa’s body held no clues whatsoever other than the missing heart which only cemented the theory that this was the Copycat’s work. There was no progress and the science team’s annoyance was quite enjoyable.
So, naturally, by the time he got home-an hour before Hannibal was due to arrive- he was in a great mood.
The pack greeted him enthusiastically, barking and jumping over each other to get to him. It was really no wonder he preferred their company over humans’. Alive humans, that is. Dogs were easy. You gave them food, shelter, care and they gave you their loyalty and love. Humans, on the other hand, were messy, complicated creatures and his interactions with other people generally left him reeling in disgust. And most of them were so one-dimensional that it often felt like their very existence was a waste of space. Others would disagree with him, of course, but they didn’t have to deal with the extremely annoying process of having to wade through the thoughts and emotions of every damn body they mingled with.
It was truly no surprise that he was so thrilled at meeting someone who was an exception to this.
Hannibal Lecter wasn’t like Will, of course not, but they were kindred spirits. Solitary artists who preferred the same canvas. He had a feeling that Hannibal didn’t find people as plain and boring as he did. Other than the ones he deemed to be pigs, the psychiatrist seemed quite interested in people. Well, the interest probably didn’t bode well for the ones it was directed at, but still…
He knew, though, like he just knew some things, that they were compatible. He felt a sort of connection to the man that he’d never felt before, not even to other killers. And if Hannibal’s actions were any indication, the feeling was mutual.
They’ve both been dancing around each other since that surprising encounter in Jack’s office and Will was tiring of it.
It was high time the dance ended and the fun began.
After letting the dogs out, he showered and dressed, abandoning his usual plaid and flannel combo for one of his suits. Tonight, he had no reason to hide away behind layers. Hannibal had already seen what really lay underneath the facade. Will Graham- harmless F.B.I teacher- had no place here.
This was meant to be a meeting of monsters.
*
Hannibal was pleasantly surprised when the door to Will’s home opened to reveal the version of the man he’d seen only once before. Clad in a sleek black suit(sans tie), curls somewhat tamed and slicked back with his eyes free of those hideous glasses, it was Will Graham as he’d first met him, all those months ago in Morgan’s cabin.
His surprise would have gone unnoticed by most, but Will naturally picked up on it and was evidently quite delighted about it. He let Hannibal in with a flourish and closed the door behind them, taking his coat from him.
An army of dogs were scattered all over the living room and though a few made to approach Hannibal, a sharp command from Will stayed them. Well trained dogs, then.
“That’s quite a collection,” he told the empath.
“They’re strays I took in.”
Behind him, Will chuckled and he turned to see what the source of his amusement was. Will’s eyes were trained on the Tupperware container he held. They flicked to Hannibal’s, twinkling.
“Of course, you’d bring food.” There was fond exasperation in his tone and Hannibal smiled in return.
“You know I’m careful about what I put into my body.”
“That I do.” Will took the container from him and set it aside on the dinner table. “And though I don’t have your cuisine of choice, I do have something else you may like.”
“Oh?”
“Hm. Please make yourself comfortable.” Will told him as he led him back into the living room. “I’ll be right back.” With that, the empath ducked into his kitchen, leaving Hannibal alone under the watchful eyes of seven dogs. He sat down on a chair that was relatively free of dog fur and waited.
His eyes roamed over the room, taking it all in. Will obviously preferred comfort over showmanship, and the place was very cozy. It wasn’t really to Hannibal’s tastes, but he could appreciate it nonetheless. Although, he was a bit biased when it came to all things ‘Will Graham’.
When Will returned, he held two glasses of dark red wine in his hands and was sporting a mischievous smile. He passed one to Hannibal and sat down opposite him, leaning back, watching him intently. Taking his eyes off the enticing figure he presented, Hannibal scented the wine, eyes widening at the aroma.
“It’s my own brew.” Will supplied, grinning wider at Hannibal’s look. He was ignoring his own glass and was focused completely on him. Knowing what he was waiting for, Hannibal took a perfunctory sip and his eyes fluttered close at the exquisite taste.
“Will…”
He opened his eyes to see Will watching him still, eyes hooded and dark with pleasure. He took a sip of his on wine, the ruby red liquid sloshing slightly in the clear glass. Hannibal mirrored him, letting it sit on his tongue before swallowing.
“She was a con artist I ran into a few years ago.”Will told him casually and his lips curled into a smile. “Leila, I think. B positive. Does she suit that refined palate of yours, Hannibal?”
“Yes, Will. Truly delicious.” He replied, affection coloring his voice. “I’m glad you decided to share this with me.”
“It only seemed fair, given how enthusiastic you are about cooking for me.” Will drained the rest of his glass and set it aside, leaning forward to fix stormy eyes on Hannibal. “We do make quite a pair, don’t we?”
“It seems like, between the two of us, nothing will be… wasted.” He finished his own wine and mirrored Will so that they were leaning intimately into each other.
The empath smiled and something stirred behind his eyes, a monster held only barely in check at the moment by tenuous restraint.
“Yes.”
Will suddenly slid to his knees between Hannibal’s legs, using both hands to grab his head and hold it in place. Their eyes were still locked, but Will made no effort to intrude into Hannibal’s headspace, waiting patiently for Hannibal to show him what he wanted to see.
He was only too happy to indulge him.
He unleashed the tight hold he kept on the vicious, bloodthirsty creature inside of him, letting it peer through his eyes at the beautiful man kneeling between his legs, though the position was in no way submissive. He let Will see the darkness inside of him, unveiled the macabre artist who was a much more integral part of him than the persona all others saw. Hannibal allowed the intense pull and helpless fascination he felt for the empath to show in them, let him see just how much he appreciated the wonderful gift he’d recently received.
One of the hands holding his head curled around the back of his neck in a wonderfully tight grip as Will’s breathing sped up and his pupils dilated until the blue in his eyes was only a mere hint around the edges. Hannibal placed his own hands on the younger man’s shoulders and held on tightly, just as affected by this strange intimacy.
When Will finally spoke, his voice was deep and dark and hoarse, warming him all over in the best of ways.
“I see you, Hannibal,” he breathed. “And you are beautiful. You are perfection.”
He surged forward and captured Will’s lips with his own, biting down hard to taste blood. Will tightened his grip and yanked his head back so that the column of Hannibal’s throat was bared to him. Bloodied lips skimmed the pale flesh as Will rose to his feet, and he licked his own blood from Hannibal’s mouth, nipping lightly as he pulled away from the doctor.
For a few seconds, they remained like that, frozen, trying to regain the composure that had deserted them both. Effort that was wasted as Will slid gracefully into Hannibal’s lap, knees on either side of the older man’s thighs, hands caging in the man. He found that he wasn’t as averse to the position as he should’ve been.
“I was right about you. You are lonely, in a way. You seek companionship. You want someone who understands you and accepts you. Someone who can see everything you are and the beauty of it all. Someone who can truly appreciate the art you create.” The words were a faint, reverent whisper but Hannibal heard them loud and clear, was lost in their promise. When Will lowered his head and brushed his lips against the shell of his ear, a faint shudder ran through him. “As do I, Hannibal.”
He swallowed against a dry throat and he could barely recognize his own voice when he spoke, “And what are you proposing?”
Will smiled against his ear and drew back to look Hannibal in the eyes.
“A partnership.”
Those two words had no right whatsoever to be as seductive as they were, even if they represented something he’d longed for ever since he met William for the second time in Jack’s office. He had expected this to take a lot longer than it did, was prepared to wait for as long as necessary and enjoy the game they were playing. But evidently, Will had other ideas. He couldn’t even bring himself to be offended.
Hannibal sighed, eyes half-closing before they flashed open to drink in the beautiful mixture of desire, wonder and sincerity in Will’s eyes. This man was going to be the death of him.
“I accept.”
Really, what else was he ever going to say?
Will smiled, sharp and wolfish, making no effort to hide his pleasure. A smile tugged persistently at his own lips. But to his disappointment, Will drew away and slid off him, smirking at Hannibal’s expression.
“Come now, I have a present for you?”
“Another one?” Marissa Schurr, impaled on a rack of antlers, had been quite the gift. What else would he need?
“Hm, yes and no. Come.” Will said as headed towards the kitchen and Hannibal followed, suddenly having a pretty good idea what it was.
He wasn’t disappointed when Will opened his fridge taking out a perfectly harvested human heart and offered it to Hannibal. Marissa’s heart. He accepted it with reverence and cupped it in his hands, imagining Will cutting it out from the warm body of the young woman. The image sent a jolt of pure pleasure through his body.
He gently pressed his lips to the heart, eyes never once leaving Will’s, and lightly set it aside on the kitchen counter. He strode forward and pinned Will’s slightly smaller frame to the fridge, cupping his face with his large hands. His next words were whispered against the empath’s lips.
“This partnership of ours… I suppose it would be accurate if I were to assume that it extends further than just killing.”
Will suddenly grabbed his hips and pulled him forward until they were flush against each other, wrenching a gasp from Hannibal. Will kissed him then, his tongue snaking past his lips to twine with Hannibal’s, the cut on his lips bleeding sluggishly into their joined mouths. Will moaned at the taste and kissed him harder, all restraint lost.
When they finally pulled away, both their lips were smeared with the bright red of Will’s essence. It was only after their panting eased somewhat that Will answered,
“That would be quite accurate.”