Chapter Text
Will enters the gallery and seats beside Hannibal.
"If I saw you, everyday, forever, Will, I will remember this time" says Hannibal.
"Strange seeing you here in front of me. I’ve been staring at after-images of you in places you haven’t been in years."
"To market, to market, to buy a fat pig, Home again, home again, jiggety-jig."
"I wanted to understand you, before I laid eyes on you again. I needed it to be clear, what I was seeing."
"Where does the difference between the past and the future come from?"
"Mine? Before you and after you. Yours. It’s all starting to blur. Mischa. Abigail. Chiyoh."
"How is Chiyoh?"
"She pushed me off a train."
"Atta girl!"
"You and I have begun to blur."
"Isn’t that how you found me."
"Every crime of yours feels like one I’m guilty of. Not just Abigail’s murder. Every murder, stretching backward and forward in time."
"Freeing yourself from me, and me, freeing myself from you. They’re the same."
"We’re conjoined. I’m curious whether either of us can survive separation."
"Now is the hardest test. Not letting rage and frustration, nor forgiveness, keep you from thinking."
"Shall we?"
"After you" Will gets up, following him. They leave the Galleria and walk into an alley where Hannibal's motorcycle was parked.
"We need to leave now." Will says while Hannibal opens the motorcycle trunk and pick up his helmet.
"We?" Hannibal look right into Will's eyes, covering his on emotions as he does so well most of the time.
"Yes, we. I don't have other choice." Will says with his eyes fixing Hannibal's too, as he does not do most of the time.
"We always have choices, Will" Hannibal says with a impassive expression.
"I don't, not anymore." Will picks up a second helmet inside the motorcycle trunk.
At this time Hannibal has already put his own, concealing his mouth as it breaks into a genuine smile that he knows Will won't be able to see.
Hannibal gets up on the motorcycle, being followed by Will, he puts his hands gently on both sides of Hannibal's hips, just to assure some security through the ride. His back is tight, tense, and he's making sure his body doesn't touch Hannibal's back.
Nothing more was said, Hannibal starts the motorcycle and they leave.
Will didn't even bother himself enough to ask where are they leaving to. The thing is, he didn't mind as long as they're together. After all this time, all the fight against being manipulated and led by Hannibal's wills, he's letting himself go, letting himself being lead on, by his own choice.
He's just enjoying the ride now, they are safe and Florence looks beautiful. His back is not so tight and tense anymore, he's relaxing. His hands now are almost touching each other, his arms around Hannibal's waist as he slowly allows his chest to lay down on the other men's back. His face is over Hannibal's back shoulder, his cheek prevented to touch his back by the helmet. The musk scent of the man's perfume gently sliding through the helmet lower gaps, creating a inebriant bubble of his smell inside of it.
At the begging he didn't realized they're so close but, after some time when he did, he doesn't mind, staying there all the ride, not carrying at all if Hannibal was enjoying it as much as he was.