A/N: Hi everyone! I wrote this based on the promo for the finale, and how Will got to prison. Also, I've seen a lot of pieces where Will discovers Hannibal's secret and is completely okay with it, so I decided to take another look at that. I'm really bad at this intro thing, so without further ado, enjoy!
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Click. It had been several days since Hannibal had entered this house. Even more since he had come here alone. Will had given him a simple request, though, and he wasn't about to let the poor dogs starve.
He took a breath before pushing the door open. The fleet of dogs his friend– no he couldn't really say that anymore, not after what he had done –his acquaintance had acquired rushed to entryway, tripping over one another in an attempt to see Will. They pushed past Hannibal, some sniffing around for their owner and a handful running out to the lawn to do their business.
Disgusting animals, Hannibal never understood Will's fondness for them. Perhaps the eternal loyalty or a desire to not be alone. He wasn't there to psychoanalyze Will, not this time. He was just there to feed his dogs.
He left the front door open for the mutts and to clear out the smell of urine and dog before he walked into the kitchen, and it really hit him why he was in Will's house. This was no trip like the last time.
"Will, you need to listen to me."
"I am done listening," Will said, holding the gun steady. Beverly had mentioned he had trouble shooting, but Hannibal never would have guessed. "I know what you did. I know what you are doing."
His voice was shaking slightly. It wasn't hard to see the situation through Will's eyes. This was the ultimate betrayal. Hannibal was the only one Will trusted fully anymore, and in the end, it was all a lie. His plans had worked near perfectly. Will had grown too much too quickly. At the same time, he was never supposed to find out.
"I don't know what you're talking about, Will," Hannibal replied calmly. "Do you see me as Hobbs? Will. I am your friend. You can trust me. Look past the hallucination." It was a futile attempt at one last deception, Hannibal was positive of that much. Will was far too certain of himself to fall into another lie. Especially now that he knew how much had been a lie.
"Don't say my name like that. You are not my friend," Will hissed. He let his form go for a moment, wiping the sweat off his forehead with arm.
Hannibal took a step forward, a hand raised to lower the gun.
"Don't move. I will shoot."
Hannibal stopped. No need to push him further. "Will. Please. I deserve to know what you are accusing me of."
"I know who you are." He accentuated the statement with a short laugh, as forced as the smiles he often gave Hannibal. "Chesapeake Ripper."
He walked slowly through the kitchen, not wanting to disturb anything. The FBI had examined and moved so much and taken a handful of items in for further investigation. There was no purpose in wrecking his home further. If Will ever returned home, Hannibal wanted him to have something decent to return to.
He walked by Will's tipped over cutlery block, and couldn't help but put the knives back in their places. He unplugged his toaster and dumped out what remained of the three day old coffee. It wasn't long before he found himself emptying the dishwasher and washing the few dishes in the sink by hand. His own kitchen was pristine, and he couldn't resist the urge to perfect this one.
One of the dogs–Winston maybe–ran up and rubbed himself again Hannibal's leg. Great, now he would have to run home before going to visit Will again. Jack would find out he was taking care of Will's dogs on Hannibal's terms.
Brought back to the task at hand, he found the dog food stood in the same place as it had before. Of course then, Hannibal had ignored it, slipping them bits of human instead, something he would never risk today. It was a joke back then. The word cannibalism didn't ring in his ears as it did now. A simple fact had turned into a haunting.
"The Chesapeake Ripper?" Hannibal chuckled. "What makes you think that?"
"At your house for dinner the other night, I excused myself to the bathroom. I wasn't feeling well, I was afraid the fever was returning and took a wrong turn." He paused for a moment. "Your study is covered in articles of him. There were sketches–"
"My personal study."
"–and books of human bodies. How to cut them apart."
"Most would have simply written them off as research. The few who I have allowed into my study have. I used to be a surgeon, after all, and I have become quite invested in the Chesapeake Ripper case."
"You know that's not how I think. The room was empty, and in front of me stood my design. Your design." He closed his eyes for a moment. "It all makes sense. I couldn't see it was you because you didn't want me too. Not only are you better than all of them, but you had the FBI's best in the palm of your hand. How could I have been so stupid?" He was growing angrier with himself by the moment. "You killed those people for the meat. You kept them until you needed them. That's how it started, as a way to feed your sick diet. Did you have to leave surgery because your cannibalism became too much for you? Did a patient die or did you kill them, Hannibal?"
"Calm down, Will. I never wanted–"
"Then the copycat murders. You're a parasite; you didn't even come up with your own crimes. You just wanted to screw with me. You knew I was your only threat. You had to keep your cannibalism safe, so you took advantage of me." His voice was near a whisper. "You were afraid of me."
With enough food in the dog bowls to last a few more days, it was time to leave, but Hannibal couldn't find the will to go. He couldn't go back to the prison yet, to see the accusations in Will's eyes. He needed more access to the man, so he was designated has Will's official therapist for the first time. He was the only person not completely affiliated with the FBI that was allowed to see him. He normally spent every second he could there, trying to repair the shards of their friendship, but it was obvious that's not what Will wanted.
Now, here in Will's house, that began to hurt. Hannibal left for home every night, ready to try again the next day, but here he felt truly alone.
He walked around, continuing to pick up the items that had been carelessly knocked aside. He dusted, something Will had clearly never done for himself until he made his way upstairs to Will's room. He hesitated there, unsure he was ready to enter. Being in the house was enough to remind him how he missed his friend but to go into his room seemed to be intruding even further.
"What do you want, Will?" Hannibal asked, walking over the kitchen sink. He was aware of the gun and Will's eyes following him the whole way.
"I want you to call Jack. I want you to call him and tell him that you committed those murders and are turning yourself in. I want you to hand him my letter of resignation and explain to him that you pushed me too far. I want to be free of this job and free of you."
"I can't do that."
"Of course you can. I have the gun. The phone is to your left."
Hannibal nodded and picked up the phone. He slowly dialed Jack's number, hesitating before he pressed talk.
"I can't do any of those things, Will."
"Of course you can," he spit. "If you don't, I shoot you."
"You can't shoot me."
"Why. Not."
"Even as your unofficial and unpaid psychiatrist, Will, I know more about your mental health than anyone. I told Jack about your lapses in time. I told him how you took Abigail Hobbs to Minnesota."
"You killed her too? I should have known." He could hear Will's denial in his voice. The gun wavered for the first time.
"I have pronounced you mentally unstable. If they can prove you have no memory of the murders, they will let you live in a hospital instead of a prison, but they will still be on your head. If you shoot me now, they will put that murder on you, too, and it will guarantee you a life sentence in prison."
In the end, he knew he had to go in. Will may not want to speak to him more than he was required to, but ultimately, he still asked Hannibal to care for his dogs.
It was impossible for Hannibal to tell if Will had left his room this messy or the FBI had left it more askew. They had probably dug around some, but it still looked like Will had rolled out of here this morning, let out his dogs, and went to make a cup of coffee before running off to the latest crime scene.
He sat down on the side of the bed, staring out into the yard. The dogs were running around, glad to stretch their legs. He looked past them, losing sight of what was really happening outside, desperate to see the world as Will did.
"I trusted you," he choked. "I had no one, Hannibal. I thought– I thought I had found someone that wasn't trying to use me. Even Alana– I can't believe I believed you." He lowered the gun, placing it on the counter between them.
"I'm sorry, Will," Hannibal said. "I am truly sorry."
Will looked up, meeting Hannibal's eyes, one of only a few times he had since they met. Betrayal, anger, fear raged across he features. All to prevent his own prison sentence.
He reached across the counter, putting his hand on Will's, but it was immediately ripped away.
"Call Jack. Turn me in. Don't touch me. I can't do this. I can't." He slid down to the floor, his eyes never leaving Hannibal's. "Have them take me away. Lock me up. Just like they did to Gideon. They will talk about me for years. Will Graham, the agent who became so involved with his work he lost sight of himself. They will puzzle over what went wrong."
"No they won't. I know. I lied to you. Half of your brain is inflamed. There is something wrong with you."
"I can't believe you. I cannot believe you would do that to me. I needed you."
"It wouldn't have changed anything. Only the loss of time."
"But you couldn't tell them that. If you did, you would go to prison in my place."
"You could still be proven innocent. I can write you a report that will set you free." Hannibal knelt next to him.
"And waste all of the work you had to do to get me convicted? Set you on the run again? Don't bother."
"They'd set you free after I kill again anyway. This is for your own safety."
"Don't spin this. Don't manipulate me into thinking it was good." He took the phone from Hannibal. "Is he waiting outside? Did you convince him to send you in first? Tell him you could make me come peacefully?"
"You do not want me to answer that."
"I'll call. But always remember. I called." He pressed send and the phone rang.
The next bit was a blur. Jack never picked up, but agents were in the house in minutes. Will's eyes followed Hannibal, but he always looked away. He would talk to him again. Day after day until they reached the end of this madness, whatever it may be. They searched for any remaining bits of humans, anything that could prove Will guilty. It took several hours, and Hannibal stayed until the end. He sat in a chair, fielding any questions Jack had, and he waited.
Dusk began to fall, closing out the day. Hannibal walked down stairs and whistled, counting the dogs as they came inside. He locked the doors and walked to his car. He was late, but he was still going. He went every day, waiting until Will forgave him.
He arrived to find Will sitting on the edge of his bed. They walked in silence to a room with only a table and a chair, bare of recording devices at Hannibal's request.
They sat down and began their routine. Hannibal spoke, talking about Will's disorder, feeding his dogs, and even mundane topics like the weather. Will stared at him, never saying a word, and Hannibal once again found their roles switched, he becoming the one to avoid eye contact.
Day after day passed this way. Day after day they sat and he waited.
He closed out their session the same way he did every time.
"I'm sorry you're in this situation, Will. I truly am." He stood to walk out and fetch the guards.
"Hannibal?" He froze at the voice. "Thank you for taking care of them. Do you think I will see them again?"
"In time, Will. Anything can happen with time."