My first story for this fandom. The muse would not be silent after that finale.
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Bedelia wasn't deluded enough to believe that she was the first choice to be occupying the seat next to Hannibal at that moment. She had briefly allowed herself indulgence. It lasted only long enough to realize that the empty first class seat in front of her was going to stay empty for the entirety of the flight.
She can see the configuration that Hannibal had envisioned. She saw the outcome he had anticipated, had planned for, and had let himself hope for. Will would be where Hannibal now sits and Abigail would be curled up against the window. Hannibal had monopolized so much more of Abigail's time over the last months of his planning. Hannibal had the privilege of watching as Abigail moved from tensed shoulders at the mere sound of his footsteps to gentle acceptance. Hannibal watched as she warmed to the idea of their kind of family. Will and Abigail had so much to catch each other up on.
Bedelia knew that the empty seat in front of her was meant for Hannibal. He would spend the majority of the flight with his head tilted back to rest against the headrest, much as it is now. Hannibal would bask in the soft, reverent sounds for his two loves reacquainting themselves with each other. He would allow himself the indulgence of a small smile when their whispers were interrupted but Abigail's soft giggle or Will's unselfconscious guffaw. Hannibal may even allow himself to drift close enough to sleep that the world would narrow to just the three of them.
She knows this as clearly as she knows that the bloodied clothing Hannibal had come to her wearing are currently in the bulkhead of the plane. Secreted away by one of Hannibal's many contacts and ready for him to claim possession of as soon as they land. She mulls over the fact the Hannibal has chosen to keep them. It is certainly against his best interests. They carry traces of all four people that he had left for dead.
Yet, she understands why he kept them. She knows why they were worth the risk. It is the last and only thing he has left of Will Graham. She can almost see the frown of disappointment that must have overtaken Hannibal's face when he was finally able to survey what was left of his clothing. The totem of his beloved was sullied with the blood of Jack, Alana and to a lesser extent, Abigail. Rainwater diluted it even further but beggars it seemed cannot be choosers. For the first time in decades, Hannibal was confronted with the fact he was once again a beggar.
This time she doesn't need to ask him where he goes when he closes his eyes and tilts his head back. She can see it as plainly as if it were her knee deep in ice cold water. Hannibal losing himself in the steady rush of the stream at his feet. Hannibal's bloodstained hands casting line after line. Each lure holding the name of his beloved. Each line becoming a plea for the chance to go back, to speak plainly, to tell his beloved of the family he saw for them.
This moment on this plane, she wishes that her presence was not needed. Yet, when she allows her eyes to slip shut she also allows herself to believe that her required presence is temporary. She allows herself this small precious thought for one reason. It's the reason that Hannibal is so desperately casting lines in his mind's eye. It is the reason that Will's coat is tucked in among all of Hannibal's finery. It is the reason that Hannibal doesn't have more than that coat to carry with him as a tribute. Hannibal had used the excuse of the sirens coming down the street to justify why his escape needed to be so swift. In truth, Hannibal hadn't been able to bring himself to stay and watch as the last of Will Graham drifted away.
Bedelia let herself believe that this world was still graced with the presence of Will Graham and she allowed herself the smallest indulgence of a smile.
When the wheels of the plane touch the runway, Hannibal Lector is a man that had almost burned his entire life to the ground. At that moment, Will Graham is the man almost six hundred miles away with the threading heartbeat fighting to make sure that it remains an "almost".
When Hannibal's last memento of his beloved is place in his hands again, his breath catches. At that moment, Will's breath stutters too. All too suddenly, Will is surrounded by too many sounds and too many feelings. He is surrounding by the stench of cleaning product and covered in a threadbare hospital blanket.
In that moment, Will is alive. He is in pain. He is in mourning. But most of all, in the darkest part of himself, the black part that now threatened to engulf his entire being, Will Graham is in love.
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This may be expanded into a multi-chapter story especially with the hiatus now on. If it does, I have a feeling a rating change will be in order. Please let me know what you think.