He had decided, it hadn't been an easy decision but it was the only right decision. He had prepared everything the night before: the footstool stood ready in the middle of the living room, the noose hung above it, attached to a hook. He had picked out the finest clothes he owned; a white shirt, red tie, a black suit with matching black pants and black leather shoes. He wanted that whoever found him would remember him as something beautiful.
He looked at the farewell letter he held between his hands, read every word and syllable. His fingers began to tremble and he put it away, he couldn't being hesitating now, not when he'd made his decision - it was carved in stone and would remain so. If he pulled out now, he would repent it later.
Hannibal rose from the chair, went into the bathroom and gave himself a quick glance. His hair was gloomy, a few hairs glued against his clammy forehead. His eyes were dead - without life. His face grim. He nodded to his reflection and steered his steps toward the bedroom, dressed himself slowly into every piece of clothing.
When he was fully dressed, he went back to the bathroom, combed his hair and pinched his cheeks so they would have some color. He smiled at the man who looked back at him, an echo of something he would never be. He was too damaged, too wicked, to even come close being called human. He nodded one last time at the man in the mirror, a farewell, and then went to the footstool in the living room.
He stepped up on the stool, reached out to the snare, felt its material with his fingers and put the loop around his neck, took a deep breath to calm his heart that hammered inside his chest. His foot took step out of the stool's reach, he balanced for a few seconds on one foot before the other foot also moved into the air. The noose around his neck clasped sharply, the air went out of him and a loud crack echoed between the walls. The world turned black.
Will fumbled with the hairpins in his pocket, he finally got a grip of them and glanced around in the narrow stairwell before he put them into the keyhole. He picked the lock within seconds, pulled out the gun that rested in his back pocket and stepped silently into the dark apartment.
No one seemed at home... He held the gun in front of him while he tiptoed around the apartment, he sneaked into the bathroom to check if anyone was there but no one met him. He hurried to the living room and the sight that met him burned into his brain. A man, perhaps ten years older than him, hung floppy with a noose around his neck, dressed in formal wear. His face was blue from the lack of air, his neck twisted in a strange angle.
The first thought that came to Will was FLEE, idon't lay your nose into this/i, but he ignored it without really knowing why. He returned the gun to his back pocket, rushed toward the man, almost threw himself to the stool and managed to get the snare loose from its hold. He managed to catch the man before he fell to the floor, Will sank to his knees beside him, feeling for a pulse and finding it, it pounded weakly against his fingers.
He fished his worn telephone from his phone, rang the alarm center and thanked the gods that he remembered the address. The woman on the other end asked about his name, but he was afraid to reveal his identity, the police had already sniffed him up and he would not be drawn into more crap than he already had. He lied about his name and was just about to hang up and bail when the woman at the other end told him firmly that he was not allowed to leave the man alone until the ambulance arrived.
Will sighed, frustrated, hated himself for a moment and said "okay" before he hung up. He looked at the man who lay lifeless on the floor next to him, his neck was not as strange twisted as before. He breathed in quiet, frail gasps. Will wondered why he chose to end his life, he clearly seemed to have much money, so why would he want to kill himself? He felt a sudden contempt for the man and was angry with himself that he had saved this stranger. What would another rich man's death do? They deserved to die, the whole lot of them. He had struggled all his life to get even the smallest cent and now he'd sunk so low he was forced to start stealing from others.
Will sighed irritably and breathed easier when steps echoed in the stairwell outside. A man and a woman in ambulance clothing came running into the apartment, their hands full with medical equipment. They looked gratefully at Will before they examined the man quickly and took him out to the ambulance.
Will hurried out of the apartment and was just about to run away when the male medic asked if he wanted to go with them to the hospital. Will looked at him strangely and considered the decision for a moment. He had broken into the man's home to steal money, not to save his life and be mixed in any useless crap he didn't need. He didn't believe in destiny and other crap like that. He just wanted to go home and forget all of this.
The man will certainly need someone when and if he wakes up. This might give your life a turn around, a little voice whispered inside his head. He clenched his teeth angrily, swallowed his pride and looked at the man in front of him and nodded.
"I will go with you," he said.
The paramedics smiled happily at him and they drove away with screaming sirens to the hospital.
Will sat outside the operating room and waited. The clock had just struck two in the morning, his eyes stung of fatigue and he yawned for an eleventh time. He didn't know what it was that kept him here, he didn't know the man, didn't know who he was or why he'd decided to end his life. Why was he still waiting for this stranger? He looked down at his tattooed fingers and sighed, hoping he wouldn't have to pay anything for this. He was already under his budget for this month.
A man in his forties, muscular with a slight scarred face came walking towards him. He moved a chair and placed it in front of Will. Showed his police badge and smiled stiffly toward him.
"Jack Crawford, police commissioner", he said seriously, and sank down on the chair. Will swallowed and ran his hand nervously over his beanie that hid his curly hair. He hoped the police wouldn't recognize him.
"I'm here to interview you about the man you found in the apartment. How did you get into the apartment?" Jack asked, prepared to take notes with a small pad and a pen.
Will looked into his eyes, wondered if he should tell the truth or not. He would probably be charged with burglary if he told the truth.
"I picked the door, I had intended to steal some money from him," the words flew out of him, it was impossible to stop them. He bit his teeth together and cursed at his stupidity.
"Oh..." Jack said, somewhat shocked with raised eyebrows and wrote something down in his notebook.
"I thought no one was home, I went to the bathroom first and checked if anyone was there, then I went to the living room, where this man hung like a flayed animal. I acted on impulse and got him down from the roof and called the ambulance", Will continued, shocked that he dared to speak the truth. He would have to pay for this.
Jack wrote down what he heard before he looked at Will with an inscrutable gaze.
"You saved his life," he replied simply and laid a warm hand on Will's thin shoulder, held it there for a few seconds before he stood up and faced his colleague. "We're done here," he told her, and they left the hospital. Will looked shocked after them, Jack had spared him. No prison sentence this time. Happiness and relief warmed his stomach. He was free. For now, at least.
He must have fallen asleep, for when he woke, the morning sun shone merrily through the windows. A nurse was standing in front of him with a cup of coffee in her hand. Abigail Hobbs was her name, her name plate told him. She smiled gently at him and gave the cup to him.
"The hospital pays for the coffee", she said when Will gave her an anxious look. "You saved this man's life. His operation was successful, he will live but with permanent damage." Her eyes were sad and she looked away for a second.
Will gratefully accepted the cup and looked at the nurse. She was cute and reminded him of his sister a little. He hadn't met his sister for many years.
"I am happy that he is alive," he blurted out, "I don't know him, however," he added quickly and drank a few sips of the coffee. God, the taste was wonderful. Abigail smiled at him.
"You have saved a life, feel proud in this," she said. "If you hadn't found him and called at the right time, he would've been dead. Now he lives thanks to you and he will get the best psychiatric care we can offer," she paused for a second and seemed to ponder something. "You are welcome to visit him, he is just a few rooms away. He will not wake up until a couple of hours and it will be a big change for him. He will be confused and certainly very anxious. He will be angry and bitter for being rescued, but hopefully it will pass. He isn't alone anymore," she smiled with a knowing look and patted Will's shoulder before she left him.
Hannibal opened his eyes slowly, the white light stung his eyes and for a second he thought he was among the clouds in the sky, but the illusion burst when he felt indescribable pain searing through his neck. He was istill/i alive. The mission had not succeeded. An angered cry came out of his throat and echoed among the white walls. He tried to punish himself for his failure but his arms didn't obey him, they lay limply beside him like dead worms. The panic rose in him and he continued to scream shrilly, a nurse came running in the room, an unknown warmth spread through his body and he blacked out.
The pain was not as noticeable next time he woke up. He couldn't understand how useless he was, to end his life had been his only goal the last few years and when he finally had done it, he hadn't succeeded! The anger became unbearable, he screamed in agony and tried to move but no part of his body obeyed him. He was just a package, a thinking package. Tears spurted from his eyes and he cried in despair, he had accomplished nothing. He was still as useless, if not more, now when he was paralyzed.
An unknown, quite attractive man came into the room. He was dressed in a worn black leather jacket and a pair of worn jeans, parts of his skin shone through the holes that littered the jeans. A black beanie hid some of the brown curls. A couple of black tattoos adorned his fingers.
Hannibal continued to cry without caring about the man who stood next to him with a worried look on his face. The man said nothing for several minutes, he was motionless and watched as Hannibal cried his heart out. Tears ran out of his eyes and snot oozed from his nostrils. Hannibal was ashamed and would have dried himself if he could've moved. The man seemed to understand what he wanted, he already had a couple of tissues in his hands.
"Is it okay if I...?" The man asked, his voice was calm and gentle. Hannibal blinked, hoping that the man would understand him, which he did. He wiped away the snot and tears with gentle movements and threw the paper into a wastebasket. Hannibal gave embarrassed the man an embarassed look, but the man just smiled gently at him without saying anything.
"Who are you?" Hannibal tried to say, but his words were slurred, he couldn't speak properly. He was surprised by the curiosity he felt the man next to him, it was a feeling he hadn't known in years. A good feeling.
The man seemed to have heard what he said as his eyes lit up when he heard the question. He smiled softly and looked away for a second before he met Hannibal's gaze again. A flash of fear appeared in his eyes.
"I was the one who found you in your apartment," he replied cautiously and avoided Hannibal's gaze.
Anger suddenly flared in Hannibal, it was this pathetic little rat that found him?! A broken drugged criminal man had found him dying. Fantastic! The anger, however, was replaced quickly with a touch of guilt when he saw the man's gloomy eyes.
"I couldn't just leave you there... I acted on impulse. I guess I didn't want to lose another human in my life," the man went silent and looked away, he quickly rose from his chair.
Hannibal didn't want him to leave, the anger and despair he felt just moments ago was gone, it felt like his life might had found a meaning, as if this man had been meant to find him hanging there. The man had seen him, he wasn't invisible anymore. A small piece of joy crept into him, an unusual sensation since he had felt hollow these past years, but he welcomed it with open arms.
"Don't leave," Hannibal slurred hoarsely, he grabbed every inch of strength he had to lift his arm and grab the man's arm but the only reaction he got in return was his little finger twitching. Maybe he wasn't wholly paralyzed?
The man turned to Hannibal with a worried expression on his face before he returned to his chair.
Hannibal was able to smile a genuine smile when the man sat down again and the man returned his smile, crinkles formed at the end of his eyes, and Hannibal thought that this man was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Maybe God had heard his desperate prayers and sent him an angel?
"What is your name?" The words were just a single incoherence but the man heard him. Saw him. Understood him.
"Will is my name. Will Graham," replied the man called Will. A sudden impulse came over Hannibal, his fingers twitched and trembled as he tried to reach out and take Will's hand, but he couldn't move either his hand or his arm.
"Hannibal. Hannibal Lecter," Hannibal presented himself, every cell in his body tired by the strain of trying to move.
"Hannibal", Will repeated, smiling and saw Hannibal's attempt to take this hand. He closed his fingers gently around Hannibal's hand and caressed the lax fingers that met his skin. An indescribable warmth radiated between them when they touched, Will had not felt anything like that before and he saw that Hannibal felt the same way.
They smiled at each other, blushing a little as Will caressed Hannibal's hand softly. The warmth sprang between them like small sparks from a fire and they went quiet as their eyes met. Somehow they knew they were meant to be with each other. Maybe destiny was worth believing in. After all.