Chapter Text
Agent Jack Crawford sat opposite the table, his eyes trained on the feast before him.
“He kept his promise. As was expected from a gentleman of vice.” Bedelia Du Maurier said, with shallow calm.
Jack raised a brow, “You’re not at all fazed.”
“One is to expect as little or as much of a man as keenly resolute as Hannibal.” Bedelia replied breathily, “-And so, I expected as much.”
Jack glanced at the entree of an exquisitely seasoned, wrapped, and charred roll of meat. He then drew his gaze down to Bedelia’s left leg - or the lack thereof - and saw a prosthetic attachment in its place.
“I was looking forward to a nice dinner - and yet.” Jack furrowed his brow, “I think I’ve lost my appetite.”
Bedelia’s empty stare bore down upon the man before she placed down her fork and knife. “I’m more curious as to your current status on the whereabouts of your ‘Murder Husbands’. I see nothing but disquiet on your face - at the solemn mention.”
Jack set his arms down and sighed, “Ms. Du Maurier, there is so much we’re able to cover at the present moment. No bodies were found. We have no leads - as of yet.”
“They severed and ate my leg, as I dined alongside them in complimentary silence.” Bedelia retorted dryly, without a hint of distress. “I don’t believe I could mistake two infatuatedly murderous men as any other than Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter.”
Jack studied her face, “How- How did Will shift so quickly? Have you talked with him? Did he say anything?”
Bedelia almost chuckled, “Quickly? Quickly? Agent Crawford, Mr. Graham has been violently transforming since the very moment he met Dr. Lecter. Putting aside patient confidentiality - he called it to be his ‘Becoming’. For a very long time, he has been changing. You were just too blind to see anything of value.”
Jack did not appreciate the insulting attitude. He frowned slightly, “-And so, he committed to this life with Hannibal? Leaving behind his family?”
“This family of his was but a placeholder,” Bedelia concluded without hesitation. “I doubt his wife could break away his attachment and intimacy towards Hannibal. They were safe and stable. A part away from his true desires - the truth. Which, as you will find, have now been released in all hellish fervor.”
“Will is not that type of person, Ms. Du Maurier.” Jack enforced solemnly.
“ With you. And yet, the mutual obsession between Graham and Lecter proposes a different view of stability and wants. They are each other’s crutches. As much as they can live without each other - they equally cannot leave one another. Will seems himself whole with Hannibal, and as the final threshold - the faking of their death was the ‘Becoming’ he so proclaimed.” Bedelia trailed on, her eyes were restful yet bitter.
Jack clenched his jaw, “You’re saying - they are one?”
“With all the times they’ve greeted and sworn to one another in secrecy - all is left is to become one.” She batted her eyelashes slowly, as her leg cooled on the table.
“Joined at the hips - bloodletting and avowed, in quiet matrimony.”
Jack leaned back, “So if they did come back here - during a, say - two-week timeframe… Where do you believe they would have gone?”
Bedelia raised her glass of wine and took a drink, slow and meticulously. “Wherever Hannibal goes, Will follows suit. They would not - could not - return to Italy. They’d cloak themselves through unreachable countries. They’d settle themselves and live like gorged and flattered kings. I doubt, Agent Crawford, they will ever allow you to disturb their bloodthirsty peace.”
Jack laughed bitterly, “Seems to me they wish to shake off the BSHCI and its stale company.”
“They’d rather dine on finer company.”
He sighed, “How did they look when they came to see you?”
“Serene. Enamored. Will Graham is no longer the man you last saw, Agent Crawford. You will never lay eyes on that shell of his again. If you have the misfortune of facing him once more.” Bedelia explained and drained her glass. “Every move was calculated, unwavering. As if he saw the world in new shades. They mirrored Hannibal’s, with added sarcasm. I did not appreciate the sharp attitude. While his attention was grafted and disjointed. As if the only words that could reach him were Hannibal’s.”
Jack stood and paced the dining room in agitation. His coat whisked by in panicked flutters. “Jesus. This is my fault-”
“Yes, it is.”
“Thank you, Ms. Du Maurier.” Jack snapped.
“You’re too full of yourself, Agent Crawford. Your righteous insight of all matters obscures you from every fiber of veracity.” Bedelia said without a hint of shame, “How obvious must one man be to catch your attention? Hannibal the Cannibal? Even Dr. Chilton could vouch for a lack of creativity.”
Jack growled, “Ms. Du Maurier, I wish you wouldn’t continue to touch on such a sour subject like my incompetence. I’ve already dealt with enough crap about it.”
“It will not leave you, no matter how hard you try to legitimize yourself - Agent Crawford. You're stained.” Bedelia assured him without an ounce of reticence. She saw rage flicker across his face before settling on crude displeasure.
“I will not discredit any of this, Ms. Du Mauier. I guess when shit hit the fan - I was the shit .”
“You and everyone else. And yet, Mr. Graham was the only one to piece back together with gold joinery, all by Hannibal’s hands.” She commented without a single glance toward Jack.
Jack could not hold out, “My responsibility was crushed beneath my boot. And I won’t plead any case except the fact that he saved lives. But, was it any more my fault than it was Hannibal’s?”
“In Hannibal’s eyes, you were the sole perpetrator, while he might as well have been Will’s savior. A protector, possessor, and Will to be his muse.” Bedelia replied thinly, “To him, you were a leech - bulbous and bloated. Suckling on Will as you deemed appropriate. He, in turn, popped you; the mucus of your work bursting violently, as it had been slowly secreting for years beforehand.” Bedelia turned her head to the side, and let Jack seeth into his bones.
He straightened his coat and coughed, “Are those Hannibal’s thoughts, or yours? ”
“Does it exactly matter - if it’s true?”
“According to you, no.”
“And according to me, you’ll lose sight of Graham and Lecter if you continue to dawdle.” Bedelia crooned, “They might as well have already left the country.”
Jack flicked his eyes down, “Dammit. If they get a handle on a country with no Extradition Treaty - then the FBI is rutted. We’d be suspended without-” He slammed his fist into the table. It jolted, and Bedelia scowled very minutely.
“They would not be thoughtless in considering their escape. With Hannibal’s influence and money? Agent Crawford, every perception you have will cease to exist. Your goals, doused and beaten.” She raised her chin in emphasis.
“Struggle all you might - Hannibal will not allow you to ever fall into the vicinity of himself and Will. This, he swears.”
Jack stood frozen for a long while. His chest rose and fell in heaves, perpetuated by his head.Jack straightened once more and skidded his chair back under the table. “One thing I know for certain - is this: I’m one stubborn ass.” He turned to leave. “I cannot simply let the two of them continue their murderous honeymoon. They will either be behind bars or six feet under. I wish there was another way.”
Without another word uttered, Special Agent Crawford left Bedelia to her wake.
She took a single bite of meat and dabbed the corner of her mouth with a napkin.
“And the bull sees red.”
Five minutes later, Bedelia gagged and regurgitated her dinner.
Did regret what she had done?
Yes.
But it made her feel closer to touching the veil she had once crossed.
Closer to him.
~Shrouded in The Bleak Dark~
‘We could disappear now. Tonight, feed your dogs… Leave a note for Alana, and never see her or Jack again. Almost polite.’
If I had taken that hand. If I had gone without derision. Without doubt.
‘This is all I ever wanted for you, Will. For both of us.’
It’s beautiful.
~~~
Is Hannibal in love with me?
~~~
The world turned like an hourglass - yet time was no longer present. It walked out the door and left them suspended in the bleak roiling shadows. An embrace closed in around his body - as a whispering caress evolved into a passionate dance. The mirror shattered, and no longer was it himself he saw in the shards. It was one soul, resounded in two bodies. The cloak of water battered against that one soul, and yet nothing could part them. He gasped in a lung full of brine. His eyes burned, organs begging for mercy.
‘Hannibal.’ He mouthed, and the water rushed in.
He heard in his heart, a gentle response. ‘I am here, Will.’
It could no longer be a nightmare. This was different. It had changed.
What once was him, was washed away by the current.
He took himself deep into that embrace and was consumed in its entirety. Beautiful. It was more than anything, a dream. But reality collapsed down upon him, in a spiral of pain and euphoria. If this was freedom - he was drowned in it. And in the wake, cool, bitter air ran razors through his raw throat. He let out a cry of rebirth and met the blinding starlight with a smile. In the whorl of ever-changing waves, in his arms, was the man he was sworn to. Blood and bone. Bound, broken, and reborn. Stitched into a chaotic yet glorious tapestry. He dug his fingers into the man’s back, and tears streamed down his face. Pure rapture - no words could describe. His gaze followed his soulmate’s. They were in absolute bliss, despite toiling in the depths. No. Because they were wading in the endless depths.
And they kissed. As they consumed each other hours before. And they fell so hard, the cliffs did not meet their descent. They kissed and they confessed those hidden, beastly desires in the shroud of darkness. Strange and ghastly, stunningly exalted. To which they found themselves swimming. Hand in hand, they would never return to themselves again. There was much more awaiting them, beyond the precipice of mania.
They had found themselves in one another, and anywhere else would not belong to them.
‘Love.’
‘For to be fated in the dead of night.’
~~~
Tivat Airport,
Tivat, Montenegro
~~~
Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter stepped out into the mild dampness of early spring. The sky was dappled with clouds strewn across a painted blue scape. Will inhaled the piquant scent of newly arrived tourists and the flush of young buds. However, it was overcome by the rich musk of his companion. He cast a look at Hannibal, who stood grounded with refined and appropriate fashion. He wore a classic Garrison Bespoke in deep navy, a vest and undershirt, a striped gray, and matching pants. A maroon pocket square accented the entire outfit. 'Sharp' would be an understatement for his dress. Unless under certain circumstances, Hannibal Lecter would dress to his formal best.
And that is one reason Will could not look away.
The other?
The still welted gashes and shadows of bruises remained upon Hannibal’s face. Will’s jaw still throbbed numbly, a reminder of their last fight. The two of them people watched in silence for a long while before allowing themselves to take a step forward to catch their driver. A slick-onyx Mercedes-Benz was parked right in front of them. Fitting into a slot with other luxuries. The two of them grabbed the rest of their luggage and strode over to their ride.
The tinted window rolled down to show a familiar face. One to which Will was unfortunately pleasantly surprised.
“Welcome to your haven. I hope you know Serbian, Will?” Chiyoh inquired and unlocked the car.
Hannibal chuckled lightly and opened the door for Will, as a gentleman would. The man even placed a hand above Will’s head as he slipped in with his briefcase.
The audacity!
Will sighed before Hannibal shut the door. He placed the rest of their luggage into the trunk before situating himself in the passenger’s seat.
“I won’t say I’m fluent,” Will admitted, disgruntled. Realized now he’d really have to focus on learning it.
But then again.
They had time.
And shitloads of money.
The car purred and rumbled to life before Chiyoh started from the airport. Will settled himself to the car window and as the airport fell away - not long did it take for a beautiful horizon to meet the Adriatic, and so did the tangy sting of the sea. Spring blooms rushed by with the newness of brightening green. Tousled in the landscape, it prepared to explode into vibrancy nearing the later season.
Will mumbled sleepily, “How long till we arrive?”
“Only fifteen or so minutes.” Hannibal’s tranquil response eased any lingering stress.
“Hannibal, I would suggest keeping a low profile for a time. Before going back to your exotic tastes.” Chiyoh advised cooly, “Get yourself and Will settled, and return to your hunts.”
Hannibal lowered his eyelids, “I’ve considered it. Stirring up any suspicions may as well be a shield to the freedoms we now have.” He glanced back at Will’s slumbering form. His eyes melted. “-As long as we’re comfortable, we shall disappear from the very fabric of reality. And return, in time.”
Chiyoh seemed content with this answer, and so, bade quiet.
~~~
Approx. 14 minutes Later
~~~
Will’s eyelids wretched his eyes open, the light blinding. From the haze, he saw the stunning gulf of Kotor. The water shone with tantalizing jewels, an allure so unshaken - it spoke in murmurs of untamed joys. The car turned onto the Jadranska magistrala for a time.
“Dobrota is home to Montenegro's psychiatric hospital,” Chiyoh mentioned as they eased their way down the M11.
Hannibal nodded, “It is.” He did not venture into the subject further.
“Are you going to take back up your practice?”
“It seems interest has waned. I now reside on the other side of my profession.” He replied and tapped his finger on the dashboard absently.
“Well, then what is it you wish to do?”
Hannibal pondered a moment, “Local musician, perhaps? Gardener?”
“You’ll live well enough on your psychiatric papers. I almost see you as a gardener.”
Hannibal smiled deftly, “As long as Will can fish to his heart’s content. It shall be fine.”
Will quivered.
He was not used to such words, clear and forthright. and at once his eyes enlarged. All that there was was the very blue of the gulf. Will knew it met the Adriatic - not far from where they drove. It was beyond words. A breathtaking feat of nature - which in many ways - bled into his heart like a white slate masking charcoal.
In a short time, Hannibal tapped Will on the shoulder and motioned to their arrival. They had arrived at the hub of Kotor. It was a picturesque old town, filled with the canvas of rich culture and serenity. Chiyoh slowed as they entered the town near the coast. It was beautiful and lively, with all the characteristics of a quaint lifestyle. As Hannibal had designed, it was close enough to other settlements and Tivat for ease of travel. This meant a quiet life, perfect for a pair on the run.
Who knew how long and hard Jack would search for them? And if he’d ever stop. Will, in truth, did not care anymore. He was long tired of the constant puppeteering, and so, his world seemed clean at last. Not of blood, but of nagging bosses. The car bumped down a narrower road that led towards the farther foothills of Kotor - and alongside Dobrota. There, they would stay, as was meant to be. After a minute, the car came to a halt and Will looked out to an intricate wrought-iron gate. The road had turned to gravel, and onward past the gate was lush forest and overarching branches. Hannibal stepped out and walked up to the gates. He examined them for a moment before inserting a bronzed key into the rather large lock. It clicked and fell hung loosely against the hoops of the gate. The gate roared open, and Hannibal, pleased, returned to the car. Chiyoh started again through the gate and into the tunnel of branches.
The fragrant smell of wildflowers, hushed in dew, filled the air and pooled the car with bursts of life. How pleasant it was to have the window opened - and Will appreciated the change. As they traveled down the gravel road, Will let his head rest halfway out the window, taking in the blur of early-spring colors and the fervent busyness of the native wildlife. From the many open slits in the canopy of branches above, streams of light flickered against his face. It fell in pockets upon the earth - revitalizing and perfectly serendipitous.
The road winded through the forest until they were met by a small fountain - propped outside their new home. Will raised his brows in surprise, “A cottage?”
Hannibal opened the passenger door and got out, while Will followed behind.
“Yes. A cottage Fit for a small family.” Hannibal smirked, and all three of them started unloading the truck.
The cottage was as classically European as one would expect. With sidings of cobblestone, windows furled with plantlife, shingled roofing with small spires, and a lantern-accented doorway - embedded under a flora-dense trellis. The cottage seemed - at second glance - to be quite large, with beautiful earthy greens taking up the rest of the house’s exterior paint. Under each window hung boxes of flowers, while copper pots scattered the yard - blooming with more color. The fountain, which they stood next to, was small but pretty. It gurgled as water spewed out of a stag’s mouth, agape. It was situated in a rearing position, as it brayed, the water streamed down into the top and botton pools. Will was first caught off guard but quickly focused on his task at hand.
The cottage was stunning in every way. It was almost ethereal in its charm - put simply. Hannibal pointed to a small pathway leading back into the treeline, where it arched past the house and into a little dell.
Will brought their luggage in and placed it to the side. Chiyoh began scoping out the cottage to find the best spots for orderliness.
“Was not expecting this for my retirement,” Will admitted as Hannibal moved to his flank. He lowered his head and let his cheek rest on Will's.
“And I doubt you expected it’d be with me. ” He murmured, a hand on his shoulder.
Will scoffed, “Not in the slightest. But - I guess it all worked out. Didn’t it?” He affectionately leaned his head against Hannibal’s before making his way through the rooms of the cottage.
It was cozy, extremely cozy. Of course, however cozy it may be, Hannibal’s genteel flair was evident at every angle. With dashes of dark colors or obscure pieces of decor - it complimented and wildly clashed with the softer aesthetics. Passing the living room full of rugs, knickknacks, and hanging herbs, was a work den. To Will’s joy, it was a tackle room. There was a bench full of fishing-tackle gear that mirrored Will’s original workplace. Lines hung from the ceiling, and charcoal sketches of dogs filled the walls. The bench itself - Will realized - faced a large window. It looked out onto a decently sized river, crossed by an oak bridge.
“You-” Will turned to see Hannibal leaning at the door frame.
Hannibal smiled softly, “I thought you’d enjoy some peace and quiet, so familiar to that in your head.”
Will sighed, “Real. It’s been too long. Whenever-whenever I thought about fishing… All I could see were corpses, floating downstream.”
“This one - I promise - won’t.” Hannibal ensured with a gleam in his eye.
~~~
The rest of the time, they traversed the cottage and its grounds. The kitchen was the spitting image of Hannibal’s - except downsized. It could as well have been the majority of the cottage. A massive herb wall stood at the back end, with a bookcase full of recipes, cans, wine, glasses, and bottles - to the side. In actuality, the bookcase was but a gatekeeper leading to the cellar just behind it. To which they would store, preserve, and butcher meat and other cooled produce.
Will immediately found that - IN FACT - there was only one master bedroom in the cottage. (The other one was a guest, and already filled to the brim for storage. This, of course, was entirely accidental.)
The bedroom was sleek, but still retained its image of cozy. There was a small divide from the bedroom to the office and library. (Which could be closed off, and entered through a separate door). Two leather chairs were situated at the snug library corner, with a pine wine serving tray placed at the middling birch table. Hannibal made sure there was a cheeseboard within direct access to the tray.
Moving onward, Hannibal’s office was set in the back, with more bookshelves taking up the wall. The desk was exactly like what he had in his office in Baltimore. Rugs padded the ground throughout - making the rooms more comfortable. Will strode by the desk and noticed a particular stag statue standing proud on a podium. He grazed it and felt the ridges thoroughly under his touch. Hannibal watched, silent and enchanted.
“How did you even have time to bring the statue?” Will asked with an inquisitive look. Of all things.
Chiyoh raised a hand, “He told me to go back and get it.”
She wasn’t there earlier, right?
“Priorities,” Hannibal whisked his hand to the side. “A centerpiece, in its own right, you could say.”
“Apparently,” Will shrugged his shoulders before finishing the tour with a visit to the river in their backyard.
~~~
“Otherworldly, is it not?” Hannibal noted, shoulder-to-shoulder with his lover.
Will watched the clear water gurgle by, his head suddenly clarified in stillness.
“You could say. It-It takes you away, almost like a trance. The simplicity of the art.” He thought aloud, his heart content. Everything was composed within his mind-space, nothing tumbled or ripped. It fed into the water as though he was a droplet of many - rising and falling to the level of the current. In this daze, a body pressed to his back, and two arms wrapped lovingly around him. It was tender and desired. A blanket of sorts, to keep him safe. Secure in his bliss. Lips pecked his neck, and Hannibal settled his chin to Will’s shoulder.
They remained this way. Finally resting in a palace of their own making. A charming, and rather bizarre palace. With many wrong turns and strange peculiarities. But a palace of theirs, all the same. To call home, even in the tidings of chaos. The air smelt of honey and crushed roses. If this was heaven, they did not know. But they knew better than to say that this wasn’t one marvelous hell. However, there was one thing missing, and Will was thus shooketh.
“Dogs.”
‘Oh…’ Hannibal Lecter was not ready.