Cold. The first thing he felt was how cold the water was. The feeling was exceptionally new and unknown, as if this coldness was unique to the ocean. And yet, he didn't feel pain, no. It was something more. He accomplished something he never thought he would be able to do. He was confused, certainly, the fall had been unpredictable and painful. But it wasn't the most important thing he thought about. In fact, he now found a peace he never knew he was seeking. It was the most wonderful feeling in the world: knowing that everything wasn't as complicated as before, that it was right. It was the righteous act. And it was that thought that prevented him to swim to the surface. Death was peaceful, wasn't it? He knew that, this time, he wouldn't go back from that, why would he? And yet that didn't bother him, because the pain, the actual pain he felt so many times before wasn't there. He actually was quite sensitive about physical pain, not as much as the mental one, but still. All those times he endured it, it was so uncomfortable. So uncomfortable he never even felt the need to scream. It was more than that. And now he still didn't want to scream. He was just… at peace. At a wonderful peace that was so rare and so palpable. But everything was so right. Beautiful.

But peace wasn't known to last. Man wasn't made to only live with it, it just existed to make pain even more unbearable. Longer. And yes, that was only now that the reality of the instant sank in: he was dying. His life was ending, in such a common way. Peace left, beauty didn't. Death was beautiful, even if he was just drowning, an end so commonly known and felt. He understood at that very moment that it wasn't how you died that mattered the most. It didn't. In fact, it was more the reason why you were dying that was so important. What would it bring and leave. Because any person at that moment would only have one question, he realized: will it matter? He actually didn't know what was going to change. Someone will take his place in this world, and he would be left in the sea. Simple as that. And yet, even that didn't bother him. Fear wasn't the reason why he had those thoughts, this feeling wasn't there, it wasn't needed. He didn't need anything, not even an answer. The significance of all this wasn't wanted even. He would not die with water filling his lungs, no. He would die because of the beauty of all this. It was the most beautiful moment of his life.

It was just with this that body and mind made one, without his consent. It wasn't up to him if he was going to die or not, he wasn't the one who made the final decision. Even now he couldn't just go freely, when the puzzle was finally made and done. No, death wasn't peaceful because life always had to intercept it. Those contrasted feelings didn't help him in the least, he didn't know what to feel anymore. But he didn't have to know what to do, his body was doing everything by itself. It didn't want to be left there, falling at the bottom of the ocean. Without even being entirely conscious, without being actually there, he swam back to the surface, the moon being brighter and brighter with each of his movements. He only realized how far he was sinking when his face emerged from the water. Tired. The first thing that came to his mind when air replaced the water in his lungs was how tired he was. He didn't even know if he had enough strength to survive this, even if his body would not let him die just as he wished.

He coughed and coughed, his lungs burning him, punishing him for staying under the water for so long. His vision was blurred by the tears that came with it, he didn't know what was going on around him, but what he felt was the solitude that was unpleasant and unappreciated. He didn't want to be alone now, not when he had to live this, this moment which was, in fact, so painfully hard to endure now. He was better dying, knowing that he would live left a bitter taste on his tongue. Or maybe it was just the salt of the ocean, but it wasn't the reason why his heart kept beating harder and harder, as if it wanted to leave this weak body. Weak, weak, weak. He even was incapable of dying.

He didn't try to swim; he saw a shore that wasn't this far but it didn't tempt him. What he wanted was the answer to that pain that wasn't only physical but present. Why now?

Oh, but he had an answer, he thought, a smile growing on his lips.

"Hannibal," he whispered with what little strength he had, before feeling his body giving in, his mind finally quieting after all this symphony of grief.

Sand brushing his fingers.

His head so heavy he thought we inserted plumb in it.

Water finally leaving his lungs through his mouth. And hands, hands everywhere. On his torso, his cheeks, the back of his head.

"I need you to stay with me Will. Breathe."

Weak, he was too weak. He couldn't stay with him.

The first thing he sensed was a sound, familiar. The roars of a car, he affirmed. He didn't want to open his eyes, still in a certain pain, but which was much easier to go through. That was okay, he was used to physical pain, he even felt a sort of calm with it which was soothing. He didn't know how long he slept, but from the windshield he felt a heat which could have only been made by the sun.

Actually, the only thing he wanted now was to sleep again, have a rest not troubled by nightmares, for once. He lived way too much to have enough strength to dream about anything. Even thinking clearly was too difficult right now.

"Will, you are safe now," said this voice, also too familiar. That was this voice that made him open his eyes, a strange feeling of certainty emanating through it. And thanks to it Will knew he was right. The danger wasn't here anymore. Just like this will of staying in the ocean, unknown by anyone. Even this didn't bring him the security this voice brought.

"I know," he simply answered while he brought his hand to his eyes, the sun too bright right now.

The night had faded but not since long, everything outside of this car was colored by a beautiful orange only the sun could make. It was still dawn and that reassured him, in a way. Yes. Even through the hardest of nights, the day would still come up. The road was empty, which brought a sense of solitude that was welcome especially at this instant. As if they were both alone in this world, a world where he was never accepted and wanted. Except from the person next to him, maybe.

He hoped the person next to him wanted him in this world. That would give him a reason not to go back to that poisonous water. Oh, he was at peace, and it was beautiful. As beautiful as death.

"Seeing you smile is reassuring Will. How are you in that very moment?"

"At peace," he simply answered. What would he add? He didn't know how he could name this multitude of feelings, so numerous but so coordinated. "Yeah, I'm fine."

He turned his head to Hannibal, to see that the man was smiling. He too was fine, and still as elegant as ever, as if everything that happened hours ago – it actually felt like days – was just a dream to Will. Was it?

"Did I drown last night?" he asked, needing to have answers immediately. He could have waited to know, that they would be out of this car, in a more secure place where they would have been able to talk about everything that has happened until now. But no, he wanted to be fully conscious of all he had to understand.

"Almost," Hannibal answered, turning back his gaze to the road. "You emerged first from the water, seconds before I would too. But you were hurt in the back of your head – you inevitably hit a rock by falling. You went unconscious right after that. You would have died without even being aware of it, but I did not let that happen."

"Why didn't you?" Yes, why? That was the point of all that. Neither he nor Hannibal were supposed to live. Not in this world, legitimately. They didn't have the right to make their path on it.

"I will never let you die when I can act against it, Will. Even if it is your decision."

He went silent after that, not doubting his words. He had all the reasons not to believe him, Hannibal was a good liar after all. And he didn't want to think about the many times he almost died because of him. But, once again, almost. He was still alive, wasn't he? Yet after all this time he didn't understand him or why he was always doing the opposite of what he was supposed to do. He felt like Hannibal was the mystery of his life, the only person who decided if he would die or not. He wasn't God, but he sure liked to manipulate someone else's life. Especially his.

"We should have died. It was supposed to end this way, you and I. We don't have a place in this world."

"I don't agree with you, Will. Actually, we both are more present in this world than anyone else. We are supposed to live this lifetime, with or without each other. And now, I need you to trust me on that."

"Why would I do that? You never gave me a good reason to, you want my life to end in your own terms, not mine. I will never be safe with you, not when I can't know what's going on in your mind," and even by saying that, he knew he was wrong. Anyone but him was the real danger, and Hannibal was the one who would go in front of it and fight it. How paradoxical of a man he was, he knew he would never get used to him.

"You know better than anyone that what you're saying is not true," the older man answered. He put a hand on Will's forehead. He was feverish, he knew that, but that wasn't the problem. He knew that his life was taking a turn at this very moment, and he wanted to know why and how. He didn't like mysteries. Apart from Hannibal. "This is going to be better now, I promise you."

"I could call Jack the moment you turn your back."

"You won't, you don't want that."

"I know," he repeated, his voice quieter and quieter. He was always right, he always knew how to perfectly read him, leaving Will with absolutely no secrets. He should have been bothered by that, but he wasn't, he didn't find the purpose.

"Thank you," Will finally said, knowing Hannibal would understand the true meaning of it.

Silence wasn't a problem with Hannibal, even if he was the only person whose conversation wasn't felt like a burden. They were both at ease with the other; Will didn't need more answers when everything seemed so clear now. There wasn't even a duality within him, the idea of going back to Virginia – because it was clear as day that they left the state behind them, if only that – wasn't a solution, he had nothing that was waiting for him there. And he didn't want this life of uncertainty and fake smiles, anyone around him acting as if he was like them when he clearly wasn't. In fact, a weight he didn't even know he was bearing left his shoulders, leaving him free. He never got used of this typical life with Molly and her son, which slowly became his too. He wanted so much to get away from Hannibal he did things he never thought he would. Molly didn't deserve that, but he did it anyway. And now he had only regrets to live with.

"You know, I really wanted to do as Jack thought it would happen, yesterday. I didn't want you or Dolarhyde to survive, but I knew that I had to go with you. But that makes me curious about something."

"Please do tell, we have all the time in the world now," affirmed Hannibal as if he was talking about the weather, when this only sentence troubled Will so much he thought he misunderstood. Even for Hannibal, everything had lost its interest, but the both of them and what the future may give them. They were the only ones that mattered. Finally.

"Why did you let us fall?" he asked after another moment of silence. He wanted to ask him about what all of this meant, but he couldn't. He was afraid that what he would have as answers was all he dreamed about his entire life, without being aware until now. A companion. He only ever wanted someone who would accept him the way he was. How stupid he was being.

"I hoped we would have come to this conclusion, to this present," Hannibal answered while watching Will in the eyes, as if he wanted to know his thoughts. Maybe he did read his mind. "There was a chance we would have survived, so I took it and let you do what you wanted. And maybe Jack will believe we are truly dead and too far in the ocean to be found, or he won't. I erased you from your old life Will, it doesn't exist anymore. This ring doesn't have a meaning anymore, just like all your regrets. Please, leave all this behind you, it doesn't matter now. Only this, does."

"I don't know what to do anymore. We should have died," he repeated, again and again.

"Stop, Will. You don't need to be obsessed by death any longer, you won't need it again. It was an exit that is now useless ."

"Suicide is the enemy, isn't it?"

"It is, and you know that better than anyone. You don't deserve this end."

He smiled at that, but stopped it when he felt a pain on his cheek. He moved his hand to it and felt a bandage he didn't remember putting on. He was now acutely aware of all his injuries, on his torso, his head, everywhere. The effects of the drugs Hannibal might have given him were fading, which brought more reality to all of this.

"You took a bullet last night, how come you're standing as if nothing had happened?"

"I endure pain much better than you do Will. And I also removed it before I took care of you. I stitched the wound just like I stitched yours; I was afraid your internal organs would have been affected, but they weren't. We were both very lucky."

"Yeah, we're lucky you had a Ph. D."

And Hannibal smiled at that, a happy smile growing on his lips.

"Yes, we are."

Yes, Hannibal seemed happier than he ever saw him. It made him remember how content he was when they first saw each other after a long time, at the Uffizi museum. As if he was the only one who could put a smile on that face. Was he?

He remembered how solitary both of their lives were before. Even with a family, he couldn't have felt happy because something was missing. Someone. Thinking life was livable this way, by himself was his biggest mistake, and he lived with it all his life. Only now, and here, he knew how wrong he was. It was either having this instant with Hannibal, or dying. And the three years felt like he was asleep during a very long time, not aware of what he was doing, or thinking.

He had to admit it: he only lived his life when Hannibal was by his side. He didn't like this feeling of dependency, but it was in him, and it was so needed it felt like he was carrying a weight too heavy for him, he could only think about it. Losing one to gain another.

Hours passed, but were felt like minutes. They were usually alone on the road, but the moments they weren't left Will aghast. How could people not see Hannibal? His face was now popular in the country thanks to Freddie Lounds, but not only. He fascinated people so much he was known by almost anyone. And Will felt Hannibal's aura so much, it shined like a powerful light. But no one saw it, turned their head to the car, or knew that this person, so dangerous, was only meters away from them. How could people be this blind? Maybe it was just him. Maybe it only shined this much for him.

"You're not trying to know where we're going," suddenly said the older man, breaking a silence in which Will was so pensive he didn't see the lake at their right, nor the numerous trees surrounding them.

"You would have told me if I needed to know," he just answered, looking at the view he had by the window. "But I would be happy if you told me we're not far from our destination."

"I was quite certain this place would please you, in fact." Hannibal continued to drive a bit, at a slower speed, receding from the trees. And when only a house and the lake could be seen, he stopped.

Here, in this lake house, they would hide from anyone.

Hannibal then got out of the car. Will followed his movement, and before they made another, both men looked at the other.

"Now you know exactly where to find me when you need me," finally added Hannibal, always this smile growing on his lips.