Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

The next week passed idly, happily even. Will and Lucas had several dates. They met for an overpriced but tasty Greek dinner in Old Town Alexandria. Over lamb souvlaki and dolmades, Will shared more about his former job. He talked about the stranger cases like those of Tobias Budge and Eldon Stammets, but more about teaching in Quantico, because Lucas was interested in what that was like.

His classes on blood splatter analysis and toolmark identification weren’t exactly appropriate dinner conversation but if Lucas was bothered by the subject matter he didn’t say. A fascination with the macabre infected more people than not.

Lucas talked about his life before losing his job. He had always liked kids, it turned out. Will wondered if he would've liked Abigail. He could imagine them hunting together.

Gunshot, then, a fallen doe in the clearing, eager Abigail, and Lucas as her guide. The image was fleeting, too soon replaced with Hannibal shoveling dirt over Nicholas Boyle’s corpse, Abigail curious and watchful.

The next day, Lucas and Will met at the National Arboretum in northeast D.C. Will had always liked it, simply because it was quiet -- a place tourists tended to avoid. Not enough monuments to war or peace. Only nature.

The trees loomed over them like dark giants, anorexic and skeletal from winter’s bite. Will brought the dogs, and Lucas walked half of them without asking, four leashes wrapped around one hand.

Their time together ended with two glasses of whiskey, this time at Lucas’ nice hotel, a two-room suite. The dogs were left in the living room when Will took Lucas to bed. The lights of nearby buildings haloed through the window, printed on their skin when they kissed and touched.

Abigail became a memory, incorporeal in real time, as he and Lucas traveled to each other’s places, growing closer. One morning, he stared out his window for a long moment, wondering if he really had let her go when he opened the window with Lucas that night.

It was a sign he had to move on.

Will’s moment came the night before Lucas left. He texted Lucas that he should come to Wolf Trap for the evening. In the earlier hours of the morning, he had caught a rather large Asian catfish, enough meat for at least four fillets. There was also a pot of gumbo simmering on the stove, teeming with chili powder, sage and paprika.

Lucas arrived on time. He always took a few moments to play with the dogs.

They kissed shyly, both too aware that their time together was running out.
“Hello,” he said. “It smells nice in here.”

The rasp of roughness from Lucas’ jaw sent an ache spiraling down Will’s chest to his groin. He shivered, but Lucas was still there, breathing him in.

“You smell good,” Lucas said.

“Not like fish guts I hope? I did shower,” he joked.

Lucas nosed along his neck. “Spicy,” he murmured.

“That would be the food. Hope you're hungry,” Will said.

Lucas pulled away, smiling. He bent down again to pet one of the dogs begging for his attention. “I feel like you've been fattening me up.”

Will tensed, but Lucas’ expression was frustratingly innocent, utterly unknowing. He still hadn't read anything about Will’s past - or Hannibal’s - no matter how many times Will hinted he should.

“From the hush puppies to the beignets, I don't know if I'll fit my clothes any longer,” he continued lightly, still petting Trixie. She licked her muzzle, staring at Lucas with complete adoration.

Will felt the same.

“You look good,” Will said fondly. And that was the problem. Lucas belonged, amid Will's things and home, with his dogs.

“Do I look good enough for you to come visit me in Denmark?”

“Hmm, my schedule is kind of busy here,” Will said. “But maybe.”

“You can sail there,” Lucas said. “Get a boat just like the one you have outside. Better even. We have many lakes to enjoy the quiet life. Get away from the TattleCrimes and ugliness of the world.”

“Be a recluse?”

“Two are not recluses, Will. Two have each other.”

“I'll remember that,” Will said. He paused. “Would I meet your son?”

“Of course. When he's home from school.”

Will nodded, swallowing as Lucas finally stood up, making a gesture to remove his coat. A strange anger simmered, that Lucas would let him into his life as if it was nothing, and that Will could simultaneously cut his ties and leave so easily.

It could never be that easy. He had the scar to prove it.

He knew he couldn't wait any longer.

As Lucas turned, Will hooked his foot out, just barely. It was enough to make Lucas stumble, mid step. The dogs panicked and when Lucas went down, his leg whole leg twisted to the side in an effort to avoid them.

He fell hard. One of the dogs giving a frightful yelp as he barely missed landing on them. Lucas cried out from the floor, gripping his ankle. His face went bone white.

“Lucas?” Will said, bending down by his side. The dogs clustered around them until Will shooed them. “Are you OK?”

“I tripped, on one of the dogs, I think,” he groaned. “My leg--”

“Can you move? Take my arm.”

Lucas tried to stand for only a second before he cried out again, mouth twisting.

“Give it a minute,” Will said, watching his face. Little beads of sweat were beginning to stand out on his lip, the grip of his hand was clammy against Will’s skin. Lucas cupped his ankle again.

“I think it’s broken,” he said, his eyes wide. “My ankle.”

“Don't try to move it. We're going to get you to the emergency room.”

Will went to his dresser drawer, gathering supplies for a makeshift splint. Within seconds, he had rolls of tee-shirts and a belt. That would do. He turned the stove off before he went back to Lucas’ side. The food would spoil. It was a necessary sacrifice.

Beside Lucas again, he bundled the cloth tight around Lucas’ ankle, using the belt to secure the splint.

Lucas gasped at that, fingers clenched into Will’s arm.

“You’re going to be fine,” Will said. “Can you put on your weight on me so I can help lift you up?”

Lucas bit his lip. “I’ll try.”

They did, Lucas leaning heavily onto him, favoring the foot that he hadn’t twisted.

The reality of what Will had done finally hit him as they limped out the front door. His stomach leapt to his throat. His pulse was too loud, reverberating in a heady thrum through his ears.

“I was very clumsy,” Lucas murmured, catching sight of Will’s face. “It wasn’t Trixie’s fault.”

“Let’s not talk about that now,” Will said. His voice came out harder than he intended. Carefully, he eased Lucas out to the porch. The dogs waited behind them. They watched them go quietly, ears and tails drooping.

Trixie stood away from the pack, near where Lucas fell. Her eyes were on Will's, and she seemed to look at Will differently than she ever had before -- almost accusingly.

Will felt it the entire drive to Fairfax, Lucas’ pained breath rattling his nerves like bullets in glass.

Lucas ended up staying the night at the hospital.

The on-call doctor assessed Lucas’ bruised, twisted ankle with a few questions and considerably more pokes. By the time he had finished, Lucas had gotten even paler. Will could already see the purplish tinge of a bruise around the thickened slope of his ankle bone. His ankle was well onto its way of being twice its normal size.

“Displaced fracture,” the doctor had said crisply.

The diagnosis took less than a minute, but the X-rays considerably longer. Lucas was still sickly pale, in pain every time he was moved.

“Our orthopedic specialist in foot and ankle fractures is in tomorrow,” the doctor said, after he had done a quick review of the X-rays with them. “At this hour, I suggest you sit tight for the night here so you can see her first thing.”

Lucas looked at Will, an unspoken question in his eyes.

“He has a flight tomorrow morning,” Will said. “Is there any way he can make the plane?”

Lucas muttered something Will didn’t understand.

“Lucas?”

“I meant to tell you this earlier, but I delayed my trip. Sorry.”

Will faltered. “You delayed -- what?”

“Delayed--”

“No, I understand the word. I just… Why?”

Lucas said nothing but his eyes pleaded with Will for understanding -- for compassion. The knot of disgust in Will’s stomach grew impossibly large.

“Problem solved it seems,” the doctor said, one eyebrow raised as he glanced between them.

“Yes,” Will said dully, avoiding Lucas’ eyes.

“Good. For the rest of your stay here, I recommend painkillers, lots of rest and staying put, at least until you see Dr. Perez tomorrow and confirm whether or not you'll need surgery,” the doctor said. “I'll get a nurse to come in with some meds and a pillow to prop your leg up. You’re going to be fine, Mr. Thomson.”

“Thank you,” Lucas said weakly.

The night passed slowly. Lucas was sweaty and uncomfortable. It wasn't until the nurse gave him another dose of codeine that he quieted.

Will watched over Lucas’ sleep. It was fitful -- thin as the cheap hospital sheets. Though he couldn't move his leg from its binding he tossed and turned his head, eyes rolling back unseeing beneath his eyelids.

Will woke him when it got too bad, giving Lucas steady sips of water from a plastic cup. It dripped down the supple line of his throat to his hospital gown, despite Will’s best efforts.

Lucas looked strangely small in the bed. Vulnerable. Will kissed the top of his head as he slept. Lucas’ fingers twitched in his and Will couldn’t tell if he was frowning or smiling. He had stood still by Lucas for what felt like hours, legs aching from standing.

The anchor of Lucas’ grip was the only thing keeping Will from floating away to the Cappella Palatina, where the craven skull waited. Patient as the grave.

Eventually he drifted to the bathroom. The light flickered in the small room at the end of the hall. He hung over the sink, peeling up his shirt sleeves to wash his hands, then his arms all the way up to the elbows. In the dim mirror, he saw a ghost wearing his skin -- a dark apparition that had cursed Lucas, hurting him for the worst of reasons.

For love. And, for hate.

What have I done?

A splash of cold water offered little relief.

He stopped at the vending machine next. He knew exactly where it was, though he hadn’t been sent to Inova when Hannibal gutted him. The layout of this hospital reminded him of both John Hopkins and Georgetown. They were all the same. Including the snack food options.

Seemingly endless bags of chips and packaged, powdered rows of donuts did for his lack of an appetite. He had cooked a good meal at home, freshly-caught fish, homemade gumbo filled to the brim with cayenne and ground peppercorns. He should’ve thought that through a little more, timing wise. Hannibal would’ve. He remembered the chicken noodle soup Hannibal had brought him after he was diagnosed with encephalitis. The silkie broth had seemed to warm him to his bones.

He wished he had something as nourishing to give Lucas.

Dr. Perez came to Lucas’ room and introduced herself a minute shy of 8 a.m. Her perky pony tail had no traces of gray. She was bright eyed and young, younger than Will. Still, Will could see very quickly that she was efficient and detail-oriented, her chart on Lucas already had several handwritten notes. Something in her put-together demeanor reminded him of Alana, from years ago, before his brain was on fire, before either of them had loved a killer.

Dr. Perez spent almost a full thirty minutes with Lucas, explaining his break and answering their questions.

Once she was told how Lucas had fallen-- by tripping on one of the dogs, she suggested Lucas get a cast rather than a boot.

“I’d prefer you keep your ankle as stable as possible so plaster is best bet. It’ll take at least eight weeks to heal,” she said. “To make sure you don’t put any weight on it, you’ll have to use crutches too. Plus side, no surgery. If the bone had shifted any more that it did you would need it. Count yourself lucky.”

“Thank you,” Lucas said. “I do.” He looked from the doctor to Will. His gratitude was embarrassing.

“Don’t thank me yet Mr. Thomson,” Dr. Perez said. “There’s a possibility it could take longer than eight weeks. You probably involved some ligaments and tendons in your fall. We won’t know for a few weeks. Unless you want an MRI. That’s up to you.”

“What do you think? I’ve never had an MRI before?”

Will had, but he waited for the doctor to answer instead.

“I think it’s something to consider after we get your cast off. We’ll see how you’re doing then, after immobilization.”

“I will take great precaution to keep my weight off of it,” Lucas said.

“Good,” Dr. Perez said. She consulted her papers. “Now, I see your residence is in Denmark. If you plan to return home before our check in appointment simply call the hospital before you do with the fax number for your doctor and I'll pass on your medical records. They might not be too useful in another country.”

“I will delay traveling as long as I can,” Lucas said.

Dr. Perez paused, this time looking at Will. Will wasn't sure what sort of sad, rumpled figure he made at the moment but the glance she gave him was entirely too much like Alana with her pity.

“Please make sure he does,” she said.

Will and Lucas were left alone, but only for a few minutes until a nurse came to wrap Lucas’ cast.

Will sat in a chair in the corner of the room, watching. Lucas’ entire leg seemed tender, and even more black and purple today. The sight of his bare ankle, as swollen as his calf muscle, flipped Will’s stomach.

The technician was gentle with Lucas at least. Very carefully, he wrapped layers of soft cotton around his heel and ankle. Then a filmy putty like material was soaked in water. The wet plaster was wrapped around Lucas’ leg, reaching mid-calf.

“It’s still drying so be careful,” the nurse said, “In about five minutes it will be a hard, protective covering. Try not to get it wet at home.”

Will gathered their things as Lucas signed his discharge paperwork.

Lucas was given even more painkillers before they left, the hospital staff told him it was to make his drive home more comfortable. The staff arranged for a wheelchair and a pair of crutches. The wheelchair would be relied on more the first few days they said, to get Lucas to the car and around while inflammation was at its worst, so Lucas could stay off his foot as long as possible. They were relieved when Will told them Lucas could avoid the stairs at his home. Everything he would need would be on the first floor.

As they were leaving Lucas’ pain, at least, had seemed to level off, no doubt due to the staff’s pharmacological intervention.

He made jokes with the two female nurses in the hall. They flirted back with him, asking him where he was from, gazing at Will with curious eyes.

“At least you’ll have someone nice to take care of you,” one of the nurses said, glancing between them.

Lucas smiled, glancing up at Will from under the tawny gold sweep of his eyelashes. The nurse hadn’t meant anything by it, but Will felt a hot stab of resentment at her, and at Lucas’ naivety. Ignorant as lambs. Stupid and blind as Will had been about Hannibal. He was tired of being crowded and surrounded by people, worn out from their assumptions.

His mood took a far worse turn as they left the hospital.

Freddie was waiting for them in the pick up area, a sardonic smile curled on her lips, high heeled boots tapping lightly on the pavement.

“Hi,” she exclaimed with fake surprise. She focused on Lucas immediately, ignoring Will for easier prey. “You’re Lucas Thomson right? From Denmark?

Lucas blinked slowly, still too loopy from pain meds to recognize Freddie, even though they had met before.

“Do I know you?”

“No, you don't,” Will said sharply. “Get lost,” he said to Freddie.

Freddie rolled her eyes. “Not my fault you’re in the hospital again. No need to be so rude.”

Will was already flustered, he didn't want to leave Lucas alone but he didn't want to wheel him all the way to the car either.

Freddie cocked her head to the side, smiling slyly.

“It's OK,” Freddie said. “I'll keep an eye on your patient while you bring your car around. Free of charge.”

Will bit back his retort.

“Don't talk to her if you don't want,” he told Lucas. He stalked off to his car, keys gripped painfully tight in his fist.

He couldn’t get to the parking lot fast enough. Tires squealed as he went back to the pickup loop in front of the hospital. Freddie had moved so she was right in front of Lucas now, her back to Will.

Lucas was only looking straight ahead, waiting for Will. Will pulled up and put the car in park. He could hear Freddie talking but Lucas was silent. He got out from the driver side fast, smiling forcibly at Lucas as he wheeled him to the passenger side.

Freddie mock pouted. “You really know how to ruin an interview.”

“What interview?” Will said as he helped Lucas into the seat. “I think you mean harassment.”

Freddie laughed loudly, her eyes sparking. He bristled, glaring at her neck.

“Harassment?” she repeated. “Oh, I guess you would know a lot about that, and stalking and threatening... The list kind of goes on and on, doesn't it.”

“You already know what kind of trash you're going to write for your blog so just go do it,” Will said. “I’m not giving you anything.”

“What about you, sweetie?” Freddie asked, peering over Will’s shoulder at Lucas. “My readers would love to have your story. I can expose the FBI for how they’ve been treating you, you’ll be able to stay somewhere nicer than Will’s dump in Wolf Trap.”

“No, thank you,” Lucas said. He rested his head back against his seat, clearly tired.

Will leaned forward, securing his seat belt tight across his lap. “Give me one minute,” he said to Lucas, just as he shut the door.

Just like that, Freddie’s fake smile faded.

“You do know TattleCrime is more than a blog,” she said. “Thousands of readers subscribe to my updates. You might be interested in knowing that my global readership is stronger than ever. Can you imagine? People reading my stories from cities like Paris and Venice.”

“I can't imagine nor do I care,” Will said, folding up Lucas’ wheelchair and sliding it into the trunk.

“Hmm, guess when Hannibal left us your imagination took a serious hit along with your gut,” Freddie said. “Let me help you out. I can see the headline now... Rumored Child Molester is Hannibal Lecter Lookalike.”

So Freddie had managed to dig up Lucas’ story.

“Don't you think he's had enough?”

Freddie narrowed her eyes. “Don't you?”

He ignored that in favor of going around the other side of his car to get in.

“Fuck off,” he said, just as he slammed the door.

Lucas sat still in the car next to him. For a moment Will couldn’t speak. His knuckles gripped pink and white against his steering wheel.

“You OK?” he asked Lucas.

“Yes OK, just tired,” he replied, his voice was thick and sluggish. “That woman, Freddie? She was the one who wrote those things about you, wasn’t she? I couldn’t remember her until now. But her hair, it’s like fire, yeah? Can't believe I forgot.”

“You’re doped to the gills.”

“I am--” Lucas started, then laughed. “Oh, I get it! That’s funny. American expressions, okay, wow. Like hush puppies. I love hush puppies. I love dogs.”

“Me too,” Will said as he pulled out from the hospital. He kept an eye on Freddie as he drove further away.

He funneled his frustration into his driving, intentionally taking turns too fast, stopping too slow. It was only when Lucas made a noise of pain that Will snapped out of it. He slowed his speed with a deep breath, let his feet lighten on the pedals.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured then, looking over at Lucas slumped in his seat.

“It’s okay,” Lucas said. “There’s not much you can do.”

But there was. He was on the beltway, keeping an eye out for Freddie’s car following. It had been at least ten minutes since they had left and she was nowhere to be seen.

Traffic on the highway was still crawling, and after a few minutes of waiting Will decided to take a shortcut through Oakton. It would make for a smoother ride for Lucas -- less stop and go, less of his cast bouncing around the floor of his car.

Will drove a little under the speed limit now, and Lucas kept his heavily-lidded eyes out the window. Will had no idea if he was looking out or not, or falling asleep. The edges of Tamarack Park were viewable from the car, from Lucas’ window. Will looked out over his head to see the rows of picnic benches and sets of unused playground equipment. The park was empty save for a girl on the swing. Will blinked.

Long strands of brown hair fell across her face. She was hunched in on herself, looking down at the ground.

Will slammed on the breaks. Lucas gasped, his foot thumping hard against the car’s interior.

“Sorry,” Will muttered, even as he shifted to the shoulder of the road. He parked the car. “I think I see someone I know.”

He got out of the car before Lucas could respond. From there, it was just a few feet to the park, to the swing set with its lone occupant.

It didn’t take long to see that the girl wasn’t Abigail. Up close, she was clearly younger, by at least three years. Her body was too small, even bundled up in a thick purple parka. Still, when she glanced up at him his heart sank.

She was barely a teenager, probably only thirteen. Her cheeks were wind chapped but her eyes were brown, her nose small and button like. She looked at Will with practiced attitude, producing a cell phone from the pocket of her jacket as if it was a threat.

He backed up, holding his hands up. “Sorry. I- didn’t mean to scare you. I thought you were someone else. Someone I knew.”

“Yeah well, I’m waiting for my dad so,” the girl snapped. “You really shouldn't be running up on people like that.”

“Sorry again,” Will swallowed. “I got it.”

He walked away from her, an icy chill settling over his shoulders. It clung like a second shadow. His limbs felt numb, like someone else’s. When was the last time he saw Abigail? He couldn’t remember.

Inside the car, Lucas was already trying to lift himself out of his seat, crutches wobbling precariously beneath his arms.

“No,” Will snapped. “You were supposed to wait.”

One hand was all that was needed to push Lucas back down and into the car. Lucas protested but it was too late, Will had already slammed the door shut.

Will stomped over to the driver side, slamming the car door behind him.

Inside the car, it was quiet. The keys hung motionless from the ignition. Lucas was breathing loudly -- Will realized it was because he was hurting bad. Didn’t matter.

When he trusted himself to speak, he glared over at Lucas.

“Are you stupid?” Will demanded. “Are you trying to hurt yourself? Break another ankle?”

Lucas flinched. “Maybe you shouldn’t run away,” he said. “Why do you always run?”

Anger pulsated in his chest. Before Will could respond, a large blue pick-up truck pulled in behind Will’s car, its engine still rumbling. The teen he had mistaken for Abigail earlier emerged from the park. The driver waited for the girl to join him in the cab before he drive off. Will watched as the truck grew tiny, a small, inconsequential speck heading towards the highway.

Will couldn’t help it. A strange, little chuckle escaped his gritted teeth.

Lucas looked at him, horribly confused. “Will, are you- -”

Will didn’t wait. He leaned forward, over the center console until his mouth brushed against Lucas’. Surprise crossed Lucas’ face but he didn’t stop Will’s tongue from pushing in, didn’t stop the hot little licks up the seam of his mouth. It was fast and needy. No time to think. That was what Will needed.

When they broke apart, Will took Lucas’s crutches from him, tossing them to the back seat, then crawled over the center median to straddle Lucas. Lucas groaned once, and loudly -- Will’s weight might be crushing him -- but he only stared at Will with ink-black pupils, mouth parting for more kisses, like a hungry baby bird.

“Lift,” Will said.

Obediently, Lucas’ hips rose an inch from the seat, enough for Will to pull down the elastic hospital pants he wore to his knees. Lucas’ cock, thickening under Will’s eyes, fit so well in his hands. Will stroked him, eliciting a low moan.

“What is -- are you doing?” Lucas asked.

“I think that should be pretty obvious,” Will said. He kissed Lucas, fucking his mouth open with his tongue.

He unbuttoned and tugged off his own pants quickly. Daylight filtered through his dirty window, shining bright on Lucas’ face, his. Anyone who drove into the empty parking lot and parked near them would probably be able to tell what they were doing but Will didn’t care who saw them.

Lucas followed his gaze out the window, biting his swollen lips. “Will...we can’t. Not here.”

“Don’t worry,” Will murmured, voice pitched low and soothing. He wrapped his hand around Lucas’ cock, thumb caressing the ridge where the head and shaft met. “There’s drug deals going down in this park every day, police avoid this park like the plague.”

He took off Lucas’s shirt next, skimming his hands up his chest, over greying, wiry hair to flat, hard nipples. Lucas gasped, arching his back as Will took one into his mouth, sucking unforgiving and hard. One hand stayed on Lucas’ cock, stroking with his palm.

“You’re really afraid of people seeing us? At least it would be true. At least it would be real.” The words were whispered against his neck, hot against his racing pulse.

“No -- it’s -- oh -- not like that,” Lucas said.

“Then what is it? You don’t want this?”

Will fisted Lucas’ cock tightly, pre-seminal fluid seeping between the clutch of his fingers. Lucas twitched beneath him, his body had gone limp and sweaty.

“Will, please.”

Will reached behind his back for the glove compartment. There was still a half-full bottle of lube and box of condoms from his time with Nate. He quickly slicked his fingers with viscous liquid, there was no finesse to what he did, the awkward reach around to his hole. His legs trembled in vibrato around Lucas’s hips while he opened his body.

Lucas stared at Will from the dark slips of his eyes. He made a pained sound when Will finally got two fingers inside, teeth caught between his lips.

Will looked at him, curious. He pulled slick fingers from his body, wiping them on his discarded pants.

“Am I hurting you?” he asked. He used his teeth to rip open the foiled package of a condom.

“Y-yes,” Lucas groaned, head falling back to hit the car seat as Will rolled the length of latex down his cock, sheathing him.

“Is that why you want to stop?”

“No- I, it’s hard to think when you’re--” Lucas said, looking down where Will’s hand was still wrapped around his cock. “You’re unhappy. You deserve a good -- our first time should be good. It should make you happy.”

“This will make me very happy,” Will said.

Lucas’ breath was rapid and short when Will reared up, pressing very hard, very deliberately. Lucas’ cock nudged shallowly into him, little teases that made him ache.

“Please,” Lucas whispered. His chin was rough as sandpaper on Will’s mouth.

“Stop me,” Will said, just as he pushed himself down harder. His hole gave to the sweet, slick slide of Lucas’ cock.

His hips bucked, even as Lucas winced. Will took as much as could, breath held. A droplet of sweat wound down the curve of his spine. It was tight, the friction burned and stung. He felt full enough to break.

But the angle had Lucas’ cock resting right where he needed it. He tried moving on him, tiny little thrusts. The pressure made Will warm, his pelvis already quivering. Lucas cried out from it, fingers gripping Will’s thighs.

He gave them no time to adjust, focusing as much as he could on the electric brush against his prostate. Clear fluid leaked from the tip of his cock. He had gotten hard without even touching himself and he wasn't going to last long either.

He fucked Lucas harder, feeling him strain against his lap. The sound of their bodies joining was like a slap, again and again. It didn’t take long for Lucas to come. He made a desperate sound, balls drawing up tight against Will’s ass.

Will kept going even through the aftershocks, ignoring Lucas’ whimpers, the nonsensical, foreign words.

Only when Lucas stared at him as though he was in pain did Will let go, dick spurting hot across Lucas’ chest and throat. Marking him.

“Fuck,” he murmured, once his breath slowed. Lucas winced as Will pulled off of him, pushing sweaty hair back from his face. His heart was still in his throat.

Lucas’ hands had a slight tremor as he pulled off the condom and tied it off.

“Lucas…”

Lucas merely blinked at him, his cheeks red. He brought his hand up to his chest, touching the wet spots where Will had come. He looked lost, and at least somewhat under the influence of painkillers.

Will felt sick.

“I’m sorry, fuck. I hurt you, didn’t I?” Will said. Hastily, he reached across the center console again, using his own shirt to wipe Lucas off.

“No, no,” Lucas murmured. “I’m okay. You. But. Are you okay?”

“Stop worrying about me, I'm not the one who -- who--,” he started, but Lucas only looked more wounded. “I’m okay. Thank you.”

Lucas nodded. He gave Will a timid smile. Will got dressed. His hands felt like a stranger’s.

For the first time since Abigail was murdered, Will wanted to cry but he couldn’t. His eyes were dry. There was nothing left for him or for Lucas.

It had been foolish to hope otherwise.

When they got to Wolf Trap, Will helped Lucas to his downstairs bed. He was out almost as soon as he was under the sheets. While he slept, Will cleaned up after the dogs and took them on a walk.

He grabbed some baggies of caught fish from the freezer and busied himself with pan-frying it along with a can of stewed tomatoes and okra. Outside, the sun was setting. Earlier, Lucas had woken up and asked for Will’s help to get to the shower. They tied a plastic bag around his cast to keep it from getting wet.

Dinner was the first time they sat face to face since before Lucas went to the hospital. It didn't take long for Will to shove his plate away.

“I owe you an explanation,” Will said. When Lucas started to speak, Will held up his hand. “Please, just hear me out.”

“When we stopped at the park earlier, the girl on the swing, I thought she was someone I knew. I um, got upset when she wasn’t. I took it out on you.”

Lucas blinked, setting his fork down.

“The girl we set free from the window,” he said quietly. His food was mostly uneaten, just rearranged on is plate. “Yes, I remember. We didn’t let her go after all, did we?”

“She’ll never be free,” Will said. “The way everything happened -- it’s impossible.”

“For you or for her? Did she want you to remember her like this, Will?”

Will shook his head. “Choice wasn’t a luxury we were afforded.”

“Will you tell me what happened? I don’t wish to pry but perhaps you should talk about it with someone, someone you can trust.”

“Someone like you,” Will said, his voice barely audible.

Lucas looked down at his plate, silent.

Will took a long sip of wine, leaving his mouth against the cool glass for a long moment. The taste of plum in his pinot noir paired strangely with the bitterness of regret.

“Abigail… she died violently. On my watch. When I could have stopped it.”

“If you could have stopped it you would have,” Lucas said stubbornly. “I can see how you cared for her. When you looked at the photo with me, you had the eyes of a parent. I know how this looks.”

“I cared, but it wasn’t enough. There were -- forces beyond my control. My feelings didn’t matter.”

Lucas looked at him with mournful eyes.

Will sighed. He brought his hand across the table, holding it gently over Lucas’.

“Maybe in another world or life Abigail can be happy,” he said. “It feels like that’s all I can hope for.”

Several days passed in relative peace in Wolf Trap. Will did his best to help Lucas. He fed him and kept him flush with good books on everything from fishing to murder mysteries. He even bought an online subscription to a Danish newspaper for Lucas to look at with his laptop. Lucas held daily Skype calls with his son. Will always walked outside with the dogs when they were talking.

Whenever Lucas called his son, a kind of light came into his eyes. He was a good dad.

Lucas always gave detailed recaps too, telling Will various things about his son’s life -- his studies, his mostly frosty relationship with an overbearing mother, a girl in one of his classes that he liked. He asked his dad for advice about that.

Will didn’t let himself think of the long distance charges or his own unpaid medical bills.

Lucas slowly grew accustomed to his cast, needing less and less help. He even quit taking the pills that he was prescribed for pain.

They made arrangements with the airline to change Lucas’ reservation so that Lucas could stay with Will until his follow up appointment at the hospital. Will was wholly supportive, he urged Lucas to stay as long as he liked.

“Perhaps everything that has happened has been for a reason,” Lucas said, a few days after he fell.

It was a cliche that made Will’s stomach churn, but he smiled and nodded, kissing Lucas gently on the lips.

“If that’s what you want to believe.”

At night, they slept together, Lucas’ foot propped up by pillows, the dogs snoring around them in nests of blankets and pillows on the floor.

As time limped forward, Will let himself enjoy the fantasy.

The glowing candles in Hannibal’s dining room lit Hannibal’s face from within, leaving his face skull like in the dark. His teeth gleamed beside the flicker of a dozen small flames.

Will sat back in his chair, steepling fingers across his lap.

“You were supposed to come to Italy, Will,” Hannibal said. “You were supposed to see the rooms where I could never go.”

“No point,” Will said, shrugging one shoulder. “The rooms were all empty. You took everything with you.”

“You could have left the windows open for me. I would have gone to you.”

“No,” Will said. “You won’t.”

Hannibal tilted his head, a small smile curving his mouth. The light illuminated him, every detail brought to life.

Will wanted to trace the smooth line of his jaw, the vulnerable hollow of his throat. He wondered how he could've ever thought Lucas, poor sad Lucas, could ever be enough.

“You would deny me,” Hannibal murmured, his voice like a caress. “Deliberately, methodically, you would take everything I have ever wanted from me, wouldn’t you, a poor penance for your own desire.”

“You should suffer,” Will said, soft and dangerous. “You should be judged. If it was up to me, your fate would be far worse.”

Hannibal stood up from his chair. He moved soundlessly.

“If you are to be my judge and executioner, would you kiss me before this cruel fate, Will? Would you say goodbye?”

Will could feel the heat of Hannibal’s body against his side, though Hannibal made no attempt to touch him. His mouth hovered close, so close that Will could see the dark space between his lips.

“No,” Will breathed, turning his face away. “The only touch you will know is my hands cutting off your air. Choking you to death.”

Hannibal eyed Will fondly, with only a hint of sadness.

“And people said that I was the monster.”

Will woke drenched in sweat, chest heaving for air. He needed to breathe-- he needed to get up-- sheets twisted around his legs. He couldn't move.

“Will, Will?”

Hannibal.

Will shoved him down on the bed, pressing his forearm tight against his throat. Hannibal's eyes grew wide, full of fear. Will pushed down harder.

Nails clawed at his arm as he did, gasps choked out.

“Will! Please! It’s me!”

Will blinked. Lucas stared up at him, hair mussed and pleading. Dimly, Will became aware of Lucas’ cast between his legs. The scent of Lucas’ anxiety -- sharp and acrid.

He pulled away from him as rapidly as he could, falling back to his side of the bed. His hands came up to cover his face.

“I’m sorry,” Will said, after a long pause. “Bad dream. Not that it’s a good excuse.”

Lucas was silent on his side of the bed. His breathing sounded more normal than Will’s at least, so Will peeled the sheets back from his legs and got up. The dogs watched with shining, sleepy eyes as Will filled a cup of water from the kitchen sink then brought it back to bed for Lucas to drink.

Lucas accepted the glass, staring at Will warily.

“The nightmare was bad this time,” he stated.

“Yes.”

“Abigail?”

“No… it was about Hannibal.”

“I still remind you of him.”

Will let his gaze fall to Lucas’ neck. The red marks from his choke hold were still there. They would likely bruise.

“Yes,” Will said. “You do remind me. Of Hannibal. I understand if you want to go home.”

“I can’t just abandon you, Will,” Lucas said.

“Abandonment implies expectation. I have none.” Will frowned to himself. “No, I guess that’s not true, is it? I have expectations but none of them end with what should be.”

At Lucas’ worried expression Will laughed, a dry, clipped sound.

“I’m sick. Mentally ill. I know it. Everyone has been trying to tell me and now I finally know it.”

“Don’t talk like that,” Lucas said. “You’re not-- broken. You’re good to me. You help me. I’ve been better since I came here.”

Will didn’t speak. He sat on the edge of the bed, facing Lucas.

“I don’t deserve you.”

Lucas reached out from the dark. He touched Will’s cheek with the lightest of touches.

“When this cast comes off I’m going to take care of you, okay? We’ll go to Denmark, but somewhere where no one knows either of us. We’ll go sailing, and fishing, everything you like.”

“Will we hunt?” Will asked.

“Only if you want to.”

Will imagined it, the unending forest of gold and red, trees looming over them like destiny, long hands of the clock. Hannibal would be there, waiting. Will felt the cold metal of the rifle in his hand.

“I don’t think I have the stomach for it these days,” Will said. Lucas wrapped an arm around him and nudged him forward, into the solid warmth of his chest.

“You wouldn’t have to,” he said solemnly. “Not if you didn’t want. Never.”

When Will woke up, his mind was still unsettled by his dream of Hannibal. It had soured overnight like milk.

He made Lucas pancakes for breakfast. It was something he hadn't attempted since the last Christmas he spent with his dad -- years ago. A few of the flapjacks ended up burned. He made sure those ended up on his plate.

Lucas woke up when the coffee was brewing, Walmart brand arabica -- nothing special. Will was both envious and impressed by Lucas’ ability to sleep like the dead, a full seven hours.

He was still rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he came to the table, crutches tucked under his arms. He surveyed the homemade, uneven cakes with a small smile.

“You made these?” Lucas asked.

“Don't get too excited. I haven't made pancakes in a long time.”

“Pancakes though. Very American. Different from what we normally eat for breakfast.”

Will sipped from his mug. “Used to make ‘em for my dad growing up,” he said. “That was before he would go work on the boats on the weekends. Then we ate fish for dinner. Mostly whatever I caught after school or after work. Every place I lived before moving to Virginia was by the water.”

“You cooked for me the night I fell. I can still remember the smell of the fish and spices.”

There was a pang in Will’s chest. The memory came without permission, tender as a bruise. In his mind's eye, he saw his foot extended again. Lucas went over it, stumbling forward with his leg turned out.

Lucas cut out a forkful of pancake. He made a noise of pleasure as he savored his first bite, chewing it slowly.

Will did the same.

“The syrup, it's very good!” Lucas said. “From here?”

“There are some sugar maple trees nearby, but most of the store-brand stuff is from Canada.”

“What do the trees nearby look like?”

“The leaves are beautiful in autumn. Like a sunset. We’re right past peak season.”

“I would like to see those one day,” Lucas said wistfully. “I loved going out on the boat and seeing the harbor.”

Will poked at his pancake with the dull tips of his fork before he slid his plate away.

“There's no reason you should be stuck in here all day,” Will said.

Lucas glanced at him, puzzled. “What do you suggest?”

“A drive?”

Lucas blushed. Even the tops of his ears turned pink. The same memory had surfaced in both of their minds at the same time -- Will felt what Lucas did, clear and vivid as the crime scenes Jack once sent him to. The car was cramped, Lucas’ large hand spanning the small of his back. Will’s eyes were open, blue and bottomless and Lucas wanted to drown --

Warm, tight. So tight.

He felt his own face warm.

“No, no, not like that,” Will said, looking down at his plate. “I didn’t mean. I wouldn't --”

“It wasn't bad,” Lucas said, looking down at his syrup-submerged breakfast. “What happened. I didn't mean that. Will. Please.”

“Okay,” Will exhaled. They fell silent.

“Then, just a drive,” Will offered. “There're some nice parks nearby. Quiet.”

“I'd like that. The pain is less… how you say? It doesn't move as much up my leg.”

Will nodded. “Radiating. That’s what we call it. Do you need help getting ready?”

“No,” Lucas said. “I'll manage.”

But his face said otherwise.

“What’s wrong?” Will asked.

Lucas hesitated. “Did -- I do something wrong?”

Will tensed. “Why would you ask that?”

“We haven't done more than kiss for almost a week. If it's my pain that concerns you… I assure you, it's not a problem. But if it's something else?”

“It’s not.”

“Oh,” Lucas said.

Will leaned forward and pressed his lips to Lucas’.

“There’s nothing wrong. A drive will do us good. If you don’t mind waiting in the car I can run into the grocery store and pick up some stuff for dinner. We can drive through Great Falls. You haven’t seen that yet, have you?”

Lucas shook his head.

“Good,” Will said. “I think you’ll like it.”

They both started to get ready. Lucas went into the bathroom while Will did the dishes. He was almost done when the phone rang.

He wiped his hand off on an old towel and answered it.

“Will,” Alana said. She sounded breathless.

“Alana.”

“When’s the last time you logged on to TattleCrime?” she asked.

“Not very recently. I make it a point to not contribute to Freddie Lounds’ ad revenue,” Will said. “What is it?”

“There’s -- there’s photos of you at the hospital with someone she’s calling Hannibal’s twin all over it. The headline is, and I quote, “Twisted Ex-Agent in Love with Cannibal Killer’s Twin.”

Shit.

“Will?” Alana’s voice was faint, but panicked. She sounded like she was in her car. “Should I come over?”

“Lucas isn’t Hannibal’s twin,” he said.

“Well, who is he? What the hell is going on?”

“Why don't you ask Jack. You always do.”

Will hung up.

He had already figured out why the images of him and Lucas at the hospital showed up on Freddie’s website a week after the fact. He wasn’t going to spell it out to Alana.

Jack hadn’t left the hunt after all.

Will took Lucas to the Maryland side of Great Falls, knowing it was more accessible. He paid the $10 fee to get inside the park. They trudged along a short, crowded path, Will watching every step Lucas took. He had his crutches for balance. Soon, they could both hear the muted roar of the falls.

At the overlook, they stood among the jostling crowds, looking out together. The Potomac River rushed down the jagged rocks set in the cliffs. Below the falls was the narrow Mather Gorge. It only looked calm. The currents ran strong and chaotic below the surface, just as furious as the white-water sections upstream.

Freddie’s article still played on a loop in his mind.

Rumor has it that former FBI special agent Will Graham turned down all psychological and psychiatric aid after being gutted by Hannibal Lecter last year. Insiders at the bureau say he's a broken man, hardened and incapable of love or forgiveness, much less serving his country by putting more dangerous killers behind bars.

But is he the one that should be behind bars?

Insiders still maintain Graham’s innocence and profess trauma is what has kept Graham from returning to the bureau to continue the particular brand of profiling work that he is known for. But is there more to the story? Graham was spotted recently at Inova Fairfax with a mysterious stranger, one that looks incredibly similar to the FBI’s Most Wanted cannibal, Dr. Hannibal Lecter.

The stranger and Graham were remarkably cozy, even to a seasoned journalist’s eyes.

If at first you don’t succeed, try, try again. Isn’t that the expression?

They returned home just before dark. Will helped Lucas up the porch then ran back outside for the small bag of groceries, just a bag of spinach along with some produce, in case Lucas got hungry. Will didn’t think he could eat.

Still, he put the cucumbers and tomatoes in the crisper section of his fridge. He washed his hands at the sink, using his wet fingers to push unruly hair back from his eyes.

When he went into the living room, all Lucas had to do was take one look at his face.

“Will. What is it? Please tell me.”

Will shuddered, he couldn’t quite stop the sway to his feet. “I need help,” he said. “I need to get over the past. I need to move on.”

“I can help you,” Lucas said. “Whatever you need.”

“I can’t ask you to--”

“Yes, you can,” Lucas said.

Will nodded, his eyes blurring as he looked down at his scuffed boots.

“Will.”

It was the tone of his voice, the authority in it that snapped Will to attention.

He went to his closet. At the far back was the suit he had taken from Hannibal’s that day he had run into Alana in Baltimore.

He brought the clothes to Lucas.

“These clothes were Hannibal’s,” Will said. “I need -- I need--”

Lucas put his hand over Will’s. His compassion was real. “It would help you if I wore these?”

Will nodded. “I don’t know. I think so. I can’t say for sure.”

Lucas squeezed his palm gently. “If I can change my clothes to help you, I will. It’s worth it. I’ll wear anything you want, you don’t have to ask.”

“I’m sorry this is so fucked up. That I’m so fucked up.”

“If I do what you tell me, you’ll be happy, yes?” Lucas said.

“Yes.”

"All right. Then I'll do it."

“Thank you.”

Will didn't respond. He went back into the kitchen to pour himself three-fingers worth of whiskey. He emptied his glass hastily, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

He sat at the table and looked out the window, watching the birds sail low over the colorless fields. It seemed like he sat still for a long time, but in reality he knew it was probably closer to twenty minutes. He shut the dogs in the room before he went back to his bedroom.

Lucas was sitting on the edge of the bed now. He wore Hannibal’s clothing. Though the suit was wrinkled, the dark colors suited him. It wasn’t as tapered to him as it would have been on Hannibal but Will appreciated the view, the way the jacket hugged his shoulders and narrow waist. The pants, well Lucas had tried, but he hadn’t been able to get it over his cast without tearing the seam. Will didn’t care. He wanted and needed entirely too much that it was impossible to know even where to begin.

Lucas’ gaze drifted up Will’s body, his hair falling across his eyes. He stared at Will, unblinking, absorbing his reaction.

“Do you like me?” he asked.

“Yes,” Will said, but he had no idea what the question truly referred to, if it was a question if he liked Lucas or if he liked Lucas more as Hannibal.

“How should I…”

Will was grateful for the whiskey singing through his veins.

“I need you more undone. Can you unbutton your shirt?”

Lucas swallowed, then, very slowly undid each pearly button of Hannibal’s white dress shirt all the way to his waist.

“Leave it on,” Will said, when Lucas made a move to remove the dress shirt completely.

Lucas stilled his hands, waiting. Will circled him where he sat on the bed. Unnameable emotions surfaced, dark and consuming. He couldn’t stop from climbing onto Lucas lap, kissing him hungrily. Lucas kissed him back, and for a moment it didn’t matter that the taste and smell was wrong, that Lucas wasn’t who he wanted. It didn’t last. His appetite went unwhet.

He pushed Lucas flat on his stomach with one hand. His hands went to the front of him, flicking the button on the pants before he tugged them down the legs then over the cast. He thought he heard the seam rip again, but it didn’t matter. He was dismantling Hannibal in his mind, thread by thread.

The long, lean lines of Lucas’ back fit smoothly beneath Will’s hands. Lucas’ head was down on the pillow, so Will couldn't see his face. Will touched the bare curve of shoulder, the crease of his spine. He took off his pants, thinking to himself.

There was an old tube of lubricant in the nightstand and he paused to retrieve it. He took his time lubricating his finger, drawing it down the cleft of Lucas’ ass and stroking the warm skin.

When his finger pushed in, Lucas was hot and tight. It seemed impossible to squeeze more than a finger inside, though Will logically knew more would fit. The last time he had done this with Nate there has been a six-pack of beer and lots of lube. He remembered the actions, how he and Nate had slotted together like pieces of a machine but not the sensations of it, how it felt. The memory seemed blurry and insignificant, an old leaf floating down the rapid chaos of white water.

He squeezed more lube on his fingers-- pushing two into Lucas’ hole this time, feeling the stretch and give of his muscle. He crooked his fingers the way he liked, listening to Lucas soft breathing.

“Turn around.”

Lucas rolled over and Will stared at him, the checkered suit as dark as raven’s wings across the white sheets of his bed. Lucas’ cock was only half-hard, rising up to his belly as Will surveyed him.

“Will-”

“Shhh,” Will said. He leaned forward to nuzzle Lucas’ cock, scenting the thatch of pubic hair, the salty skin below his balls, open mouthed and breathless. Lucas whimpered, falling silent only when Will began to suck him, cheeks hollowed and tight around his shaft. He took him as deep as he could, pulling back only to breathe and do it again.

While he sucked, he pressed his two of his fingers into Lucas’ tight hole again -- searching and rubbing until Lucas gave a hoarse cry. When Lucas tensed, bitter pre-seminal fluid leaked against the back of Will’s throat. Will sucked and sucked, relentless.

“Oh God-- that’s-- I’m close.”

Only then did Will pull away, wiping at his mouth. He stared at Lucas’ collarbone, the naked dip of skin and bone.

“I want to fuck you.”

Lucas swallowed. His eyes drifted down the tails of Will’s shirt to his erect cock.

“Okay,” he said, nodding once. “Yes.”

Will upended the bottle of lube over his cock, making it slick. He fisted himself twice, though he needed no real encouragement. Lucas’ long legs were falling off the bed and Will fit perfectly between them, just as he imagined he would fit between Hannibal’s legs. He tucked Lucas’ legs towards his chest and brought his cock against Lucas’ asshole. Lip snagged between his teeth, he rocked forward in tiny motions until the swollen head of his cock pushed inside Lucas’ hole.

For one long moment there was nothing but the sound of Lucas’ shuddering breath. Then Will pressed deeper, felt the the stretch of Lucas open around him, the warm, slick inside. He sank deep, inch by inch, forearms trembling.

Lucas brought his hands to Will’s shoulders, gripping them firmly until he bottomed out. He gave Lucas only a second to adjust before he moved slightly, pushing back and then in again. Lucas shifted with him, legs widening to take what was given.

“Will, it’s good,” he moaned. “So -- oh -- good.”

And it was good. Only that voice. It wasn’t right. The stubbled line of Lucas’ jaw lacked the sharpness of Hannibal’s clean shaven one. His eyes were too soft, his hands too gentle. Will made a frustrated sound, kissing Lucas quiet so he could concentrate.

He forced himself to keep his pace. To keep fucking him harder, until his thrusts grew quick-- furious, feverish snaps of his hips. Lucas’ cock bobbed untouched between them, and Will wanted to touch him but he couldn’t. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think about anything but --

Velvet tines snapping like dry sticks. Fingers wrapping tight around his throat. His or Hannibal’s? The image was hazy, indistinct. There was the fading scent of ambergris and almonds. Blood spilling hot between them.

Hannibal.

He had no way of knowing if he spoke aloud. Something like lightning crackled through him.

He closed his eyes when he came, felt the violent rush of his semen fill Lucas. Lucas cried out from the dark and Will felt him pulse wet across his cheek and shirt.

It was over in seconds.

Will gently disengaged, letting Lucas’ legs fall back down to the bed.

They curled loosely together, their breaths slowing. Will’s gut lurched uneasily at the sight of Lucas’ ass, the tender, pink abused skin, semen trailing down the back of his thigh. Hannibal’s shirt was still hung from Lucas’ arms. There was something so perverse about it, something unshakably wrong.

Will pulled a sheet over their bodies. He saw the wet tear marks shimmering on Lucas’ face.

Will pressed his face against Lucas’ shoulder in silence, neither of them speaking. It felt like a goodbye. It felt like the end.

The empty quiet woke him first.

Will stretched, pushing back the sheets and blankets wrapped cocoon-like around him. Odd. He was wearing boxers but he didn’t remember putting them on last night. He put his hand on his scar, the thick smile stretching across his navel.

Something was wrong. He didn't take his shirt off. He had never taken his shirt off in front of Lucas.

He touched Lucas’ empty side of the bed, it was cool.

The inside of Will's arm itched, as if a mosquito had bit him. He scratched the skin as he got out of bed and looked around.

Morning light slanted through his window but his mouth was dry as if he had been asleep for days, not one night.

Lucas’ crutches were against the wall. His suitcase was beside the bed, a few pieces of clothing hanging out. Will fingered one of the frumpy scarves. He looked around the empty bedroom again, a strange forbidding sensation clenching his stomach when he saw the ruined suit that Lucas had worn last night, Hannibal’s suit, was left folded on his desk.

Somehow he knew Lucas was gone. There was a strange stillness around the house that didn’t go away even as he explored the living room. Lucas’ sweater and books were on the seats of various chairs, untouched, the same as they were last night. The door to the kitchen was open, the dogs were gone, each of their beds empty. Had Lucas and the dogs gone on a walk?

But Lucas’ crutches were by the bed. There was no way he would’ve been able to walk them anywhere without them.

Will itched again at his arm. The swell of irritated skin was looking less like a mosquito bite and more like something else entirely.

A memory tugged on him from the darker depths of his mind -- Hannibal’s office, flickering, dim lighting -- the taste of sweet wine on his tongue. Rosé. Hannibal was on his knees before him, something -- ravenous in his eyes. He traced the big blue vein in Will’s inner arm before he smoothly slid the needle inside.

Will tried to swallow but couldn’t. The memory tightened around his throat, squeezing at him like a fist. His palms grew damp. The little red mark on his arm wasn’t a bug bite. It was a needle puncture.

He left the kitchen. Short, halting steps took him back to the living room.

Abigail was there, looking out the window, into the driveway beyond. She was smiling.

Will looked out through the glass with her.

At first, there was nothing but mist, the sun rising past the blankets of trees.

Hannibal was outside, wearing dark clothes and walking slowly across the field. Will's dogs leapt and frolicked around him in the tall grass. They all recognized him as if he was a long-lost member of the pack, as if there was lost time to make up for. Winston ran ahead of them all, almost to the house.

Will tried to still his shaking hands. He pressed them tightly against his desk until he couldn’t feel them anymore.

“Happy now?”

The voice was Abigail’s -- silky and amused.

Will didn’t respond. He waited until Hannibal opened the front door, the light of the rising sun spilling in like gold. The dogs came in too, around and in between Hannibal’s legs, tails wagging and thumping on the various chairs Will kept in his living room. Their wet noses touched everywhere, Will’s bare legs, his clenched fingers, until slowly feeling returned, his hands closing and unclosing.

Hannibal stood still at the doorway as if frozen.

“Will,” he said softly. He came closer, tentative but unafraid.

“I waited for you in Italy,” he said. “I left you a gift in the Cappella Palatina. Why didn't you come?”

“Where's Lucas?”

“Ah,” Hannibal said, pausing. “I regret to inform you, he’s gone. Perhaps in pursuit of more suitable pastures.”

“Did you kill him?”

Hannibal smiled thinly. “No, though I confess it was a temptation.”

“You expect me to believe that he's alive?”

Hannibal twitched, almost imperceptibly. He hid it by smoothing away invisible wrinkles in his pants.

“I knew it would displease you so for now he is more valuable to me alive. Besides, he provided me with a free passport. They’re expensive on the black market. I suppose it’s useful to have a doppelganger.”

“Where is he, Hannibal?”

“I left him at one of my properties in Virginia. I needed to create a diversion. Ms. Lounds’ article made quite the stir. Lucas is merely -- incapacitated until we have left the country. Until I can take you home. Then I will make an anonymous call to the authorities.”

Will couldn’t, wouldn’t, hide his agony -- or his relief.

“Home?” he asked. His voice cracked the word into two syllables.

Hannibal looked at him tenderly, daring to take another step closer. Light slanted across his features, illuminating it from the shadows. Will could see the face he had ached for, finally. He could see how absence had left its mark on Hannibal as well, in the tired set of his eyes, the small wrinkles across his forehead.

“Yes, home,” Hannibal said. “I have found it for you. For us. I had to leave Florence but there’s a quiet place we can rest until it’s safe, in Sinaia.”

“Where?”

“Romania. The south-central region to be precise. A cabin in the woods, lost in a white sea of snow-covered Beech forests. The lights are on, Will.”

In his mind, Will saw it. He saw it and wanted.

“Any minute now an associate I have hired will arrive to pick up the dogs. Once it is safe, they will all be brought to us. You have my word.”

“And Lucas?”

“Once we leave the country, I’ll call the authorities -- Jack, if you prefer.”

Will shivered.

“Come,” Hannibal said.

Will went to him.

Hannibal held him tight, nestling Will to his chest. His cheek pressed to the crown of Will's head.

“It's time,” he murmured. “You've been far too alone, my dear. Haven't you?”

The room of Will’s grief unlocked. He saw Abigail there, waiting. He felt her goodbye, a cool kiss on his brow.

Will wept, fingers clawed into Hannibal's bones.