Chapter Text
Six men dawned in pearlescent white robes watched the market from a tower’s landing.
“That bastard is dead.” The head man said in broken English, “And my name rotted his mouth. Pah!”
One of the robed henchmen shuffled forward. He smiled crookedly, “Sir, you expected the vermin to be dead within the month. And say - it came true.”
The head barked, “And yet, not by my hand. It is no good now.” He rammed his fist to his chest, and vice shred deep into his eyes.
The leader gazed out upon the old town in all its merriment. The day was young and balmy, sweet with the gulf’s briny spray. “Miro, no body was found. They simply tell us he got up and left. That pompous fool.”
“Sir, you do not believe anything like this?” Miro, with his crooked smile, inquired.
Another figure stepped forward, instead adorned in jeans and a pilot’s jacket.
“Mr. Kokolja knows better than to doubt Dilas’s sliminess. He’s too crafty to simply slip away and leave his debauchery behind.”
“You say this with confidence, Vincent. What does it matter to you?” Kokolja asked, curious as to his appearance suddenly.
Vincent smirked, “I have beef with the killer.”
Kokolja cocked his head, “You know who it is?”
“I have my assumptions.” He shrugged vaguely, “And a majority of the time they’re right.”
Velisav Kokolja frowned, “You will not tell me. I see.” His hands balled into fists, slowly going white.
“No. I shouldn’t give you the benefit. It’s undeserved, Mr. Kokolja.” Vincent replied dryly, casting his deep russet brown eyes across the town.
Kokolja growled, “I could simply rip the name from your lips.”
“Oh, but all I have is an assumption. Are you going to bet my endless usefulness on that?” Vincent drawled with a crude grin.
Kokolja paced back and forth the small tower landing. Vincent shifted aside.
“You brought us here, for what? You do not tell us who this killer is.”
Vincent brought a hand up apologetically, “Sorry, sorry.” His voice turned icy, “But - you’re here because I’ve allowed you to be here. You’ll get your chance to gather up the loose ends of your crumbling underbelly. But not before I finish what I came here to do.”
Kokolja casually desired to break the man’s jaw, but he refrained. His face contorted into a tortured smile, accompanied by a complacent tone of voice. “ Certainly , we are partners of good business, no?”
“Till the deal is done. Afterward, I promise nothing. This shall benefit both of us, Mr. Kokolja - but only if you cooperate accordingly.” Vincent pressured softly, his eyes narrowed. He took a step forward and firmly grasped the larger man’s shoulder. “Do we have an understanding?”
Kokolja tensed in fuming rage, “ As insignificant as it means to.”
“I’ll take that as a tentative yes.”
Vincent laughed shortly before waving his hand aside. “Well now - I should be going. Much to do, too little time to do.” He turned once more, “Also, it might be better to not constantly be surrounded by suspiciously robed men. It’s quite…. Unsettling.”
“Mind your own business.” Kokolja snarled as Vincent skipped away.
One of Kokolja’s men opened his mouth - but was swiftly rushed.
Velisav Kokolja slammed the henchman’s head into baked stone, his eyes aflame. The robed man screamed and collapsed, blood spilling like oil upon the ground. The five remaining robed men dare not flinch.
Vincent chuckled, his voice echoing from the stairwell. “Be careful Mr. Kokolja, you might find yourself feasting on familiar company.”
~~~
Will sat down at a quaint cafe, located in the very heart of Kotor’s old town. Hannibal stood talking to a vendor in a small circle of stalls. A passing breeze tingled his neck, a cool pleasantry to the rather warm day.
Hannibal chuckled in response to the vendor’s exclamation, which was exchanged in Serbian. His husband returned to their table with a paper bag stuffed with jams, jellies, crackers, and cheeses of countless varieties.
“Platter for dinner tonight?” Will asked and took a sip of his smooth and delicately roasted coffee.
Hannibal slid his chair in, “Would you prefer something else, Will?”
“No, no. It sounds fine. Anyway, I had no ideas for food to begin with.” Will resigned, “You’ve always been more eloquent in your choices, so why complain? I’ll just let you come up with the menu.” He snorted.
Hannibal grinned, “And yet, you do regardless, my dear.”
Will blinked, and choked out, “ Me? No …”
Hannibal lifted a brow, “Well, you have recently provided us with meat. And merely doing so reveals to me what you want.”
“And so, you know me inside and out.” Will acknowledged thoughtfully and looked out at the crowded businesses and bustling streets. It was captivating in the sense of many people and many lives. Many of the passerbyers were evidently tourists, while others were visiting locals aching for sunshine and spring produce. Will was glad spring had nearly come full bloom, as the tides of early March battled with the rainy chill of February.
An old man in layers of fur laid his body heavily outside a vibrant establishment. Will noticed him; his eyes glazed over - mouth parted in a grimace. The gnarled man held in his hands a Tamburica, with its three single and one double string. The pear-shaped instrument was well-worn and engraved with intricate designs. The old man strummed it with scarred fingers, expertly producing a quake of sound. A patched cap was situated out in front of him, shimmering with coins and folded Euro.
As he played, a gentleman walked up and tossed a few coins into the cap. He knelt and spoke a few words. The gentleman was casually dressed in a jacket and jeans with nothing offputting. However, his mannerisms reminded Will of something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. The gentleman tossed a sideways look at the bell tower above the two before careening off down a cramped alleyway.
Hannibal watched Will’s interest dim, and he prodded, “A semblance of memory?”
“I doubt it,” Will shook his head. His brows furrowed, as he noticed the old man now staring directly at the two of them. Or passed them, he could not tell with those milky eyes. They finished off their drinks and rose from their table.
“Shall we meander, my dear?” Hannibal brought out his arm and smiled almost childishly.
Will looped his arm through his husband’s, “Why not?”
~~~
He fell against the side of a wall in three ragged breaths. He knew he’d find them, and yet - wished it weren’t true. If it was just a false call - one of Jack’s flighty suspicions, and the two men on the run were actually dead… He would have been fine with chasing air. But now, having seen both Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter together - on a wild guess of their location… It stung. It was as though hundreds of glass shards needled their way into his chest.
He quickly recomposed himself before anyone took notice of his sudden break. He coughed aloud before slinking farther into the winding buzz of people - against its raging current. His body was tense, eyes darting from either side, never missing a beat to remain unknown. He was certain now of Mr. Graham’s connection to the missing Mr. Dilas. Why wouldn’t it be so? With Mr. Graham’s spirling complex of blood and justice, and a man of ill-repute… It calls for suspicion. Especially with the bloodthirsty Hannibal Lecter knelt before him with ravenous loyalty. Or was it the other way around? He was not certain of the specifics, but he was ready to take them down for good. Unlike the incompetence of Agent Crawford and his team.
He would avenge his sister.
Ease her eternal suffering.
Even if the light in her eyes would never again meet her smile.
~~~
Hannibal and Will bid farewell to a charming vendor with a wicked tongue and equally fierce eye - who in all accounts insulted the living hell out of both men. But in the manner of his ludicrous and altogether relentless attitude, they were genuinely amused. It was true; as in any other case - he would not live to see the dawn. Hannibal was still grinning like an idiot as they perused the lively stalls. Vendors of all ethnicities and peddlers with roaming carts hawked to nearby passerbyers. Many ventured to take a look at their wares and were ultimately dragged into ridiculously fiery bids. The very stones beneath the two rattled with wheels and feet, causing Will to tremble slightly.
“A lot to take in, Will?” Hannibal called, drowned out by the noise. Will looked at him with narrowed eyes.
“What?!” He shouted back as the crow of a rather vicious lady broke through their bubble of safety.
Hannibal gripped Will’s hand tighter, “We might get run over if we don’t keep moving, my dear!” And so, in a last-ditch effort to avoid being crushed or carried away - they moved alongside the current of buyers and stalls. Whenever they paused, Will would swiftly scan the vendors’ wares and Hannibal would haggle the rest. Will’s Serbian and Montenegrin were put to the test as he pointed to the fascinating items on display.
Hannibal was quietly impressed and rewarded him with a kiss on the head. Will took it proudly with a minute snort. They wandered and wandered to their heart's content. After a while, they sat down on a bench as the flood of people diminished to a gurgling stream.
“I’m happy,” Will says breathlessly. “If the world stopped spinning, and the stars escaped the night. I’d still be happy.”
Hannibal stroked the palm of Will’s hand. His lip quivered, “This is our bliss, my love. Joy in the shroud of cruel existence.” He murmured, close enough for him to hear. “ Despite it.”
Will rested his head back, eyes on the cloudy sky. “I’m tired.”
“Home?”
“Home.”
They rose and set off back through the dwindling crowds. The hours passed in a blur, and the sky began to ache with rest. The glisten of the moon hid shyly upon the horizon, crooning awake. Will paused at the very same spot the old man with the Tamburica sat. He was still there, wrapped in layers of fur and wool. The old man was startled at Will’s appearance, but he simply flicked his milky eyes about. He spoke gruffly in Bosnian, before returning to his dormant state. Will tucked some Euros into the old man’s cap before taking to Hannibal’s side.
“The man was a curious mirror of self-reflection,” Hannibal noted placidly.
Will shook his head, “His eyes were too hazy to see a reflection.”
“Who was he to you, Will?”
Will furrowed his brows, “Someone lost in his head. Waiting for time to take him quietly.” He turned his eyes to Hannibal, “You ask that of every person we meet.”
“Each one is as clearly different as the last to you. Like a mural of infinite color, or a gallery of self-portraits. You see it all.” He replied as they made their way out of the old town.
“Really? Seems like I’m taking on new powers.”
Hannibal tossed his head to the side, “Of observation.”
Will clicked his tongue, “Don’t make me hurt you.”
“Oh, do.” Hannibal pleaded mischievously, a glint of daring in his eyes.
Will dove his elbow into his husband’s side, and he winced back in mocked pain.
“You’re as bad as Hyde.”
Hannibal cocked his head, “Ah, but at least I do not hide my true skin any longer. As Jekyll. As I once did.”
Will raised a brow, “I was talking about our Hyde.”
“I am your Hyde.”
“Hannibal, you’re being a nuisance.”
“When, dear, would you say otherwise?” He inquired with a whisper of a smile.
Will remained silent as they took their car the last way to their cottage. As they drove away, Will caught a glimpse of the same gentleman who had knelt before the old man with the Tamburica. His russet eyes were grim, a stark contrast to his toothy smile.
Those eyes…
That smile.
The familiar curve of the eyelids, strong nose, the dip of firm lips.
The man faded from view as quickly as he came. And Will blinked away the sight, careful to not linger on the strange sense of fear that rippled up his spine.
~~~
They made it home when Hannibal finally turned to speak.
“Will, you have been abnormally quiet since we got in the car.”
Will looked at him with a raised brow, “When am I not abnormally quiet?”
“You seem perturbed,” His husband crooned with furrowed brows.
Will shook his head, “I just thought I saw something odd.”
“Like what?”
Will unfastened his seatbelt, “A familiar face. But - no.”
Hannibal did not pry, considering the rules they had set about delving too far into one’s thoughts. They grabbed their bags, Hannibal fetched the mail, and they unlocked the front door. Hyde at the sound of the ‘click’ went ballistic. He yipped and yapped, barked and whined, all until Will put aside their bags and sat down on the floor. Hyde whined forlorn into his ear, desperate to lick his face and sniff his legs.
Will patted him down, “Who’s a good boy? Y-yes, you are. Such’a good boy. Grrr.”
Hannibal laughed brightly from the kitchen, where he unloaded their produce. Once Hyde settled down, Will clambered up and grabbed a leash. While Hannibal cleaned the counters and organized the cabinets, Will took Hyde out to do his business and romp around in the backyard.
The sky was darkened now, and the clouds rolled in lush gray spirals. A speck of rain hit Will’s cheek and he blinked. “Alright Hyde, let’s get inside. I’d rather not deal with a wet dog in the house….” He paused, “Or deal with Hannibal.”
They returned inside and Will wiped him off before returning to the kitchen. Hannibal grinned, “I’ll bring out the platters when you’re ready to eat, Will.”
Will grunted and wrapped his arms around his husband’s waist. “Sure. In a bit.” He frowned, “Hannibal, remember your promise?”
He nodded, “If you desire, we shall go in a couple of days. Or sooner, if you wish.”
“Thank you,” Will murmured and nuzzled his head into the back of Hannibal’s shoulder - who wore a loose white shirt and copper leather jacket.
Hannibal twisted around and placed a firm kiss on Will’s cheek, his eyes alight.
He whispered, “Blood to blood, bone to bone, my darling. We are dark and beautiful.”
Will looked into the depths of his eyes, pools of mystery and violence. They were his. He released his grip, but not the gaze he traced across the man before him. His heart thumped, tears straining to release.
This man was his shadow in the fading light, his reflection in the gloom. And still, every glance was new and alarming. A savage reminder of the disorder of their lives lived. He glanced down at his open palms, stained crimson.
Hannibal caressed his cheek and left for the office. Will stood alone, the fire in him smoldering. Something churned within. An unstable, insatiable craving. He shook, but not in fear, not in weakness.
In glory.
In tantalizing exultation.
Will stepped out onto the front porch, and down upon the grass. The air sapped his skin of moisture, thick and ravenous. The rain fell heavy, in steady blows of tragedy. The sky was dismal - the stars long gone - and the darkness hummed. Will let the rain carry him into the storm as it soaked him through. He brought his head back in ecstasy, eyes closed, heart but a gentle thud.
He felt it all upon his chest, upon his face. Under his skin, torn into his flesh and bone. It was a tapestry, strewn and tangled for years in chaos. Yet the clarity he once begged for, he renounced. He buried it for the obscure and ravishingly wrong.
He had left it all behind.
The man in front of him was all he ever knew. All that was ever true.
~~~
Vincent crumpled the photo in his hand and tossed it aside. The light flickered and died, as did his lack of resolve. He trembled and slammed his fist into the desk.
He snarled into the murky darkness, his control slipping like sand in an hourglass. “ You will see your blood on your hands. And drink its bitter wine.”
The room filled with silence, hanging in the air, suffocating slowly, cruelly.
He pounded his head against the wall, “I’m so sorry. Sorry - sorry. Sorry sorry sorry sorry.”
Thud, thud, thud thud.
He laughed, “Oh, where’d I leave my head?”
Blood trickled down his brow.
~~~
Two Days Later
~~~
Will’s brow twitched irritably as he looked out the window, his fishing rod in one hand - tackle box in the other. It was supposed to be a sunny and clear day. Birds chirping, bees buzzing.
They probably all drowned.
Rain was coming down relentlessly, and winds howled like the wolves of hell. It hit the shingles of the cottage’s roof in a rhythmic beat, steady and rather frustrating.
“This wasn’t in the forecast,” Will glowered as if his eyes could chase away the clouds.
Hannibal laid a hand upon his shoulder, “Will, you shouldn’t worry. We shall go another day. I’ll personally reschedule the weather to leave a day clear and radiant.” He consoled.
Will placed the rod down beside the door and looked his husband directly in the eye.
“Give me one.” He snarled, “Rotten, stained.”
Hannibal pursed his lips and his eyes sparkled, “Truly?”
“I’m restless. I need something, Hannibal. If you won’t help, I’ll do it myself.” Will stalked away.
Hannibal’s brow quirked, “Luca Daniels. Accused of pedophilia, all charges dropped suddenly - under unknown circumstances. The evidence points undoubtedly to guilt.”
Will glanced back, “Address.”
He pulled out a card for a bike rental, and the name of Luca Daniels was placed at the top. Will grabbed it and shuddered out a breath, “Thank you.”
“Enjoy your time, my dear.”
Will’s face flashed, he did not smile. His eyes did.
~~~
Tivat - Luca’s Wandering Rentals
~~~
Will rang the bell at the front desk and let out a short sigh. The rain had eased to a spittle - but the clouds still hung with dread. He wore a beige turtleneck with rolled-up sleeves, still cold from the wind’s chill. A short man, stout in build, walked in from the back door. A flashy smile reached his ears, his front tooth chipped. His tanned skin was creased with lines and spotted with moles.
“Welcome, welcome!” His accent rolled, “You here to rent a bike? Take a trip across the coast?”
Will shrugged his head to the side, “Yes, hello. I was thinking about it. But- I assume this is the only rental in the area?”
The man bobbed his thick head, “Yes, yes! Luca’s is the only one across the Bay!”
Will cast him a speculative glance, but disregarded it.
“Are you, by chance, Mister Luca Daniels?”
The man grinned boisterously, “Indeed, sir!”
“Ah, a pleasure.” Will ran a hand across the desk, his eyes downcast. A smile played on his lips.
Luca shuddered a laugh, “Well, sir! Would you like to look at the selection?”
He nodded and followed Daniels out the side of the building. In the yard was a full storage of chained bicycles. Will looked around, both hands in his pockets.
Daniels whipped a hand widely to the side, “Look look! Many choices, indeed?”
“Indeed.” Will turned his head to the side, “I’ve heard about you, Mr. Daniels. Good business here in Tivat?”
Daniels’s smile grew wider, his face grayer, “I do not like to boast.”
Will ran his hands down the chains of a red and white bike. It felt cool underneath his fingers. They whispered to him, urging him to greet them.
Will’s voice grew softer, “What about this one?” He waved to the red and white bike. Daniels shuffled over, his shaved jaw nicked with dirty red.
“Good choice, good choice, sir.” Daniels moved around the bike, opposite Will. He turned his back for a moment.
Will heard his breath grow shallow, weary.
“Mr. Daniels, you look faint.” Will purred, his voice coarse.
“Just parched.” He replied hushedly.
Will turned his gaze upward, “I see.” It snapped back down.
“Mr. Daniels, what is that tattoo on the back of your neck?”
He shivered, reaching back to his neck, “Oh, an old thing, sir. I surely forget.”
“Mr. Daniels, it… Reminds me of something I once read.
The man shifted his weight, not taking mind of a hand close to his pockets. “Truly, sir?” His tone grew weaker.
“Mr. Daniels, you do not look well.” Will carefully undid the lock of the bike chains. He took a step forward, as did Daniels.
“Sir, I apologize… The rental is closed.”
Will chuckled, emotionlessly, “It is?”
One.
Two.
Three.
Daniels felt the heat of breath on his neck.
“Sir-sir.” The fearful gargoyle stammered. The reaper to his back greeted him with cold steel.
Will leaned down to his ear, “Little man, what did you feel when you hunted them?” His eyes clouded, voice like a winter’s spite.
“I do not know what you speak of, sir.” The gargoyle steeled himself and lurched to the side. A pistol slipped into his hand and he smirked.
It was weak, as Will saw his bones rattle.
Will stretched his neck, “Mr. Daniels, you must congratulate me.”
He flexed his arms, “today is the day I will have finally slaughtered a pig.”
Daniels bellowed as he pulled the trigger, and Will rolled to the side. The bicycles clattered to the side. He forced his way forward as Daniels tracked him through the chaos. Another shot and the bullet hissed passed his ear. He leaped from across one bike to another, and a moment later - he was on top of Daniels. The pig cried as Will grappled him. A shot rang out, and Will gasped. Scarlet bloomed from his side.
Will growled as he snapped the chains down against Daniels’ burly neck.
He thrashed and sent his arms around Will’s legs, twisting him down. He choked on steel, but now Will was below.
They clambered around until Will escaped with a strike to the ear. He laughed bloodily, “Oooh, beautiful.”
Daniels cursed, his eyes turned panicked. Where did he go? This man vanished.
Where?
Where?
Where?
“ Little man, you wear human skin.” Will cooed and thrust the chains across the pig’s head and against his throat. He struggled and squealed, his eyes bulging. He attempted to take hold of Will’s arms but quickly lost feeling.
Daniels gagged, “W-who are youuu?!”
“ An unstable dog Dad.” He murmured venomously and plunged the man down to his knees, the chains searching to crush.
Daniels thumped as Will stepped before him, looking down with disgust. The chains tilted, shards embedded into skin and muscle.
The man could no longer speak. He groaned with empty threats and begs.
Will’s lip quirked, his head spinning with glee.
“Mr. Daniels, you know what I hate most?”
Daniels choked.
He leaned forward, “ Eyes. Too much. Too little. For you - Mr. Daniels. They are worthless.”
Will pressed both palms to the side of Daniels’s head. The man thrashed, but could not move. Will placed his thumbs on either eye, and the pig screeched inwardly.
“Shhhh. Shhh.” Will crooned, “ If you cry more, you might piss yourself.”
Daniels shook, and he heard the sob, ‘Please don’t kill me. I repent! I repent!’
“Mr. Daniels, what is life without suffering?” Will smiled eerily, “False.”
POP.
POP.
The pig squealed and folded to the side. Blood splattered across Will’s face, and yet his heart felt free. He stood, yet another stain removed from his tapestry.
Will glanced down, “Porchetta's on the menu.”
The rain dwindled and fled from the reaper, his eyes alight with something dark.