Dear Fannibals, good evening! This is inspired by the Nothing I know about the Vergers and how absolutely in love with the Second Season of Hannibal I am. I don't own anything of these incredible characters. I'm sure most of you will agree that this Haunted Horror House Roller Coaster of a series is macabre art at its contemporary height. I can't stop thinking about all of the allusions to sacrifice in Su-Zakana that make me so scared for Will. If you've read the books, you know what danger waits for him in Hannibal Lecter's embrace. I would argue that this show is the masterpiece of this canon-but that's just my very humble opinion. Anyway, I'll stop shipping this show (I'll never stop) and leave you to the first chapter.
The air is quiet in Wolf Trap as the predator eyes his prey. Will is resting peacefully in his rocking chair, waiting for Alana to return home with his dogs.
Applesauce had become lonesome, so she took the dogs to the park today to have a little visit. Will had intended to join them, but when she arrived at his home with Hannibal beside her, he felt the ghost of Abigail's ear in his gut and muttered something about feeling under the weather. He probably should not have said anything of the sort, because Hannibal had stepped forward and looked him over with great concern. Will had to bear the indecency with a blank expression, still holding the illusion of friendship before his mortal foe like a fragile piece of glass that a single breath could shatter. That smoke could sift its way through, back into the dark corners of his mind.
The bullet hits like the punchline to the cosmic joke of Will Graham's short and painful life. He rocks back, eyes gripping the gun like a raft as the world blurs around him. His fingers are suddenly sticky. He looks down to see his hands red with blood. His own. He loses balance, falling forward onto his knees.
Mason Verger swaggers forward into his line of vision, which is shrinking by the second. He strokes his gun before he aims it at Will's head. He is a handsome, petulant young man with the face of a boy and the mind of a sadist. He looks down at Will like a god looking upon the wreckage of a storm.
"Family is blood. You tried to take my family. You can't have it. But you can still pay me in blood," Mason says slowly, as though trying to explain something obvious to a rather slow child.
A vision of Margot blinds Will. He sees her as she was yesterday, floating on the lake. Her hair was in a neat ponytail and her emerald eyes reflected specks of gold in the sunlight.
Mason leans over and pushes the gun against the new wound in Will's chest, which makes him cry out and fall backwards. "Since Margot didn't have the decency to bring you home so her family could inspect you, I suppose that duty falls on me. People in my social standing can never be too careful about the swill our silly sisters trek in." He drags Will's now-limp body towards his car, drawing an ugly line of blood down the stairs.
…
"I still don't understand how you can treat him after all you've been through together," Alana says with a sigh. The sun in dimming orange against the park's green horizon.
"Will needs my help, Alana. Now, more than ever. I appreciate your concern, but I can take care of myself," Hannibal replies with amusement in his eyes.
"He tried to kill you. I can't excuse that."
"We don't yet know exactly what Dr. Chilton did to Will during his stay in the hospital. We have only just begun discussing his time there. And we cannot forget the damage the encephalitis has done to his brain. He will never be the man you knew before he killed Garrett Jacob Hobbs."
Alana shakes her head sadly. "I know. That's the problem. I hardly recognize him at all. I know if anyone can reach him, it would be you…but I wish you didn't have to."
"But you know how much I want to. How important it is to me to be able to look after him, after what happened."
"Yes."
"Will is my friend. I truly enjoy helping him with his work, but what I enjoy the most is helping him see his full potential. He has spent so much of his life afraid, Alana. I want to set him free. He's closer than he knows."
After a lovely afternoon in the park, Alana pulls up to Will's porch, her car full of barking dogs and Hannibal Lecter. He sits calmly in the passenger's seat, stroking a shaking Winston. He smells the blood and makes a terrible growl.
"See Winston, we're home. It's ok, boy," Alana croons, but Winston is shaking and barking loudly now. She honks her horn to get Will's attention, but the door to his little house remains closed. Hannibal sees the blood on the stairs but remains as still as stone. His grip on Winston tightens. Alana steps out of the car and opens the car doors to let all the dogs run onto the porch…which is when she sees the blood and gasps.
"Will!" she calls out. No response from inside. She rings the doorbell. Bangs against the old wooden frame.
Hannibal leans down, studies the blood. He notices a hole in Will's rocking chair. He imagines Will being shot. The very idea of someone else murdering his masterpiece is too much for him to stand. He frowns deeply and for a fraction of a second, is truly frazzled.
"Will! WILL!" she bellows as she continues to bang madly at his door.
Hannibal turns her and takes her by the shoulders. "He isn't here, Alana. You need to calm down. I believe I know who has taken him."
"What? What do you mean? You knew he was in danger?"
"No, of course not," he looks at her in shocked reproach. "But I do know that he has befriended a patient of mine…a patient with a rather possessive and abusive brother. I warned him but…he seemed taken with her." He lets all of the new information crash against her like a wave. She does not let a single emotion flash across her face for fear of betraying the jealousy blooming in her heart. But Hannibal doesn't need a visual affirmation in this matter. He is far more concerned with Will. "I want you to stay here," he says before striding towards her car.
"Hannibal, wait! Where are you going? If Will was shot and taken…you can't go without backup."
"I want you to call Jack Crawford. Tell him what we found here and that I think I know where to find him. Tell him to expect a call from me soon."
"No. No. Tell me where you're going," she asks desperately, clinging to his lapels.
"I can't trust you to stay away from this. You must trust me." With that, Hannibal drives off, leaving Alana in tears amidst a storm of anguished barking.