A/N: This is a Hannigram (Hannibal x Will) fic. There will be slash in later chapters. If that is not your cup of tea, then don't read this story.

This is my first Hannibal story, so bear with me here! Hopefully it will turn out alright and you all will like it.

This is My Design

By KayYaoi

Chapter 1: A Tragic Beginning

Rockford, Illinois

Wednesday, October 27th, 1990

1:39 AM

He entered the house through the front door, armed with nothing but his gloved hands and an intention that was far from pure. It was after midnight. The house was quiet and all of its residents were sound asleep in their beds, completely unaware of his presence there.

The vigilante grinned as wide as the moon as it's light shined through the blinds on all of the windows-a waning gibbous.

The man had came there with only one goal, only one intention: to kill. They would have to pay.

The man headed for the master bedroom, having very well known exactly where it was. His footfalls were heavy, but relatively silent compared to the rest of the noise in the house. As he approached the room, he could see light coming from underneath the door, most likely from a television.

The killer grasped the door handle tightly and turned it, finding that it was locked. Interesting...

He took a step back and lifted his leg up from the floor behind him. Using his weight and momentum, the vigilante kicked his leg forward hard and knocked the door down.

The wood fell with a thud, causing a racket that woke up the sleeping couple. The wife screamed and pulled up the covers around her as if they would protect her. Her husband quickly got out of bed and reached behind the headboard, pulling out a metal bat painted red and silver. Apparently he intended to add a bit more red.

"Hey!" The husband shouted. "What do you think you're doing?!" The husband gripped the bat and ran straight towards the vigilante. The criminal ducked, narrowly dodging the blunt object. The vigilante retaliated by quickly jabbing the husband in the stomach and bringing his elbow down upon his head when he doubled over.

The wife shrieked and got up, rushing over to her husband. She laid a hand on her husband's back.

"Please!" She cried out. "Don't hurt him anymore! Don't hurt us!" The criminal just stood there with a blank expression on his face, obviously not moved by the wife's please. "Take what you want, just please don't hurt us!" The criminal gave a small smile at that. It was a bit unusual for the situation.

"Very well." He said. "I will take what I came here for." He picked up the bat that had fallen on the floor when the husband collapsed and gripped it tightly. He enjoyed the way the bat felt sliding across his gloved hand. He swung it a few times, testing the quality, the grip, the strength.

"Oh, this bat is very nice." He said. The husband groaned and looked up at him with a pained expression on his face.

"If you want it, you can have it."

The criminal smiled. "Are you fond of this?" He said.

"A little. I did play some of my best games with it."

"I see." The criminal remained silent for a moment. "I could never take an item with such sentimental value from you."

"If you want it, you can ha-"

"No." The criminal cut him off. "I have a better idea." He raised his arm, bat in hand, high. The wife whimpered and the husband visually shuddered. The fear in their eyes was well-defined. It was such a beautiful sight. The vigilante would surely treasure it in his mind forever.

And with that he swung. Screams filled the air as husband and wife were beaten to death in their own home.

He gasped as the vision left him. He found himself crouching towards the floor with his right hand in a fist as if it were gripped around something. He was standing right where the bodies had been found.

There was no doubt in his mind that the events of last week had gone any differently.

There were blood stains all over the room and the scent of death filled the room. It was nauseating and it made him feel uneasy. The bed looked as if it had been moved, the blankets were hanging off the bed on one side touching the floor, there were scratch marks and dents in the carpet-all obvious signs of struggle. This killer was ruthless and showed them no mercy.

The man felt a hand on his shoulder and jumped, whipping his head around to see who it was. He gave a sigh of relief when he saw who it was.

"Are you alright?" Said Crawford. All Will could do was nod his head. Perspiration moistened the skin on his forehead and scalp, dampening his hair. "Are you sure?"

Will nodded again and wrapped his jacket tighter around himself, not because he was cold, but because he felt nervous and over-the-edge. He suddenly felt the need to be hugged, which was not uncommon when he became the criminal-when he put himself into their perspective and acted out their actions just as they had done.

This had not been the cleverest of criminals, but he had certainly covered up his tracks well enough. They hadn't found a single fingerprint that might have been related to the case.

"What can you tell me about this guy. What's his deal?"

Will shuddered. "He thinks himself to be a law enforcer, a vigilante." He stopped for a moment and took a deep breath. "He punishes people who commit acts that are illegal or socially unacceptable. Crimes." Jack listened attentively, taking all of the information in.

"Why them?" Jack said.

"I did some research on the Turners. A few years back they had been accused of kidnapping and abusing a child physically and sexually. They were trialed by the State's Supreme Court, but were found innocent. The charges were dropped." Jack nodded.

"I guess he thought that wasn't good enough. He wanted to punish them himself." Jack said.

"Or herself, rather. We don't know for sure."

Will turned and walked out of the room, sliding his hands into the pockets of his grey slacks. Jack followed him out of the house. There were FBI vehicles parked around the yard and the agents themselves were scanning the house for clues.

"Our suspect is most definitely male," Will said. "Don't ask me how I know. It's just a feeling, I suppose."

"I understand." Said Jack.

Will walked over to the passenger's side of Jack's car and tugged on the door handle. It was locked. Jack pressed a button on the key in his hand and the car beeped twice. Jack chuckled and opened the door on the driver's side, getting inside and shutting it behind him. Will got in on the other side and sighed as he settled into his seat. He closed his eyes, leaning back. Images of the crime flashed through his head.

When it became unbearable, he opened his eyes again.

Jack had started the car and it was now humming quietly. "We can worry more about the case tomorrow. You need to get some rest."

Will whimpered inwardly at the thought of sleep. There was no doubt that he would have yet another nightmare. He usually had nightmares anyway, but they were at their worst at the start of each new case. He would wake up in the middle of the night, covered in sweat, and lying on a damp bed. He would get up, change into a dry shirt and lay a towel over the wet spot. Then he'd lie back down and eventually fall asleep again. He sometimes ended up having another nightmare and jolting awake, but by that time, it was time for him to get up and get ready for work.

Oh, how he dreaded going home at night. No one knew about his nightmares, but Will was sure that Hannibal at least suspected as such. It was written all over his face.

As much as Will hated to admit it, he actually enjoyed his talks with the man. He was an interesting person and had even taught Will a little about French and Italian cuisine. He wasn't nearly as dazzling as Hannibal was, but that was just fine with him.

Hannibal had his suits and he had his button-up shirts and slacks. That was just fine with him.

Jack drove him back to the hotel that they were all staying at. Alana had come along with them as well as Hannibal, both more or less there ensure his well-being, although Will assumed that they had just come to help with the case.

Naturally, Alana had her own room. Crawford also had his own room and Hannibal had insisted upon sharing a room with Will.

"I am his psychiatrist. It would be best for me to be there for him while we are away." The man had said.

Will thought it was a load of bull, but the man did sound pretty convincing. If he wanted to stay with Will, he could have just said so. No one would have questioned it. The two of them had grown from something more than acquaintances. They had become more like friends. Will even went to see Hannibal at his office more often, even when he didn't need to, and they would have conversations that sometimes lasted for hours. He had grown fond of the man's company and he was sure that Hannibal felt the same.

It took them 30 minutes for them to reach the hotel. Why they had chosen one so far away from the scene, Will didn't know. He remember Hannibal saying something about it being the nicest one in the entire city, which it probably was. Hannibal had high standards about what he thought was "nice", so if he said it was the nicest hotel in the city, it was the nicest.

Will walked lazily through the lobby, fatigue finally getting the best of him. He stepped into the elevator, Crawford coming in after him and pressing the number 5, the floor that all of their rooms were on. The elevator was not a slow one, but to Will it felt like minutes had passed before the finally reached their floor. Jack stepped out and Will behind him. They said their goodbyes and went off to their separate rooms.

Will found Hannibal setting plates down on a table that he had pulled between their beds. He had set silverware on napkins on the pillows and two glasses of wine in between the plates, for it was a narrow table. The room was dim. Hannibal had only turned on a few of the lights, not including the one above the nightstand.

Typical.

Hannibal looked up upon the door opening and smiled lightly as Will entered the room, closing the door behind him.

"Welcome back, Will." Hannibal greeted.

"Uh, hey, Hannibal," Will said lamely. "What's all this?"

"Dinner," Hannibal replied. "And a somewhat relaxing environment to ease you off the day."

Will just stared in awe at the scene before him, wondering how Hannibal had managed it all.

"Wow, this is... This is really nice. How did you..."

"I will not reveal my secrets to you," Hannibal spoke up. "Because then it would not be as surprising." Will nodded. He agreed with Hannibal's logic on that matter.

Sometimes Hannibal reminded Will of a magician: he pulled off so many magnificent things and never revealed his secrets.

"I was only able to cook one course with such limited resources, but this will suffice."

Will just nodded and stood by the door. Hannibal raised an eyebrow at him. The special agent sighed and walked over, taking off his jacket and sitting on the bed on the left. His silverware clanked at the movement. Hannibal took his seat on the opposite bed. There was barely any room for Will's knees and they were pressed against the edge of the table.

"So, Hannibal. Tell me about this dish." Hannibal immediately perked up at that.

"I have prepared grilled turkey slices with a light gravy, sprinkled with parsley and served with fava beans and pickled beets." Will smiled lightly at the other.

"It looks delicious." He said, picking up his knife and fork from his pillow and draping the napkin over his lap. He cut off a small portion of one of the slices of turkey and brought it up to his lips. He took a bite out of the already small portion. His eyes widened in amazement.

"This is wonderful," he said. "And to think that you're still able to make such exquisite dishes like this so far away from your kitchen. It's amazing." Hannibal smiled at the praise and began digging into his food as well, placing the napkin in his lap beforehand.

About five minutes later, Will's cellphone rang. He set his silverware down and reached into his pocket, pulling out the cellular device. He flipped up the top and pressed "talk".

"Hello?" He answered.

"Will?" It was Dr. Bloom. "It's Alana. I need you to come back to the crime scene. Quick."

"Why? What's the matter?"

"I can't explain now. Just get down here. Bring Jack with you."

"Alright. We'll be there soon." Will hung up and stood, heading towards the door. Hannibal stood as well.

"Where are you going?" The man asked. Will turned towards him, putting on his jacket.

"Back to the crime scene."

"I'm going with you."

Will sighed. "You can come along if you want, but hurry. We need to leave now." Will opened the hotel room door and walked across the hall to Jack's room. He frantically knocked on the door and not a moment later, it opened to reveal Jack.

"Will, what's the matter?" Jack asked, obviously confused and worried about Will's sudden arrival.

"Dr. Bloom just called. We need to go back to the crime scene."

"I understand. Let me get my coat." Jack hurried away and Hannibal came out of the room across the way, now wearing a tan trench coat over his suit.

Jack returned wearing his coat as well, shutting the door behind him. The three of them hurried down the hall to the elevator and went down to the first floor. As soon as the door opened, they were practically dashing out. Will nearly ran a lady over only to bump into a wall. Pain surged through his shoulder, but he ignored it and ran to catch up with the others.

Whatever was waiting for them at the crime scene couldn't have been good.

Will could hear the fear in Dr. Bloom's voice.

Thanks for reading my story! This is the first story I've written for Hannibal and I hope you enjoyed it.

Please write a review and tell me your thoughts. Feel free to give any feedback. No flames, please.