All The World Will Be In Love With Night
There was nothing that amused Will more than the look of impotent anger and frustration on Jack Crawford's face when Will repeated the same profile of the Chesapeake Ripper every time they discovered a new murder.
He was a highly intelligent psychopath whom fit in well with society; he was charming, attractive, well-spoken and persuasive. Will took great delight in saying that even as he struggled to meet Jack's eyes, shuffling awkwardly when the spotlight fell upon him to perform. He'd continue with a physical description; he was male, in his mid-twenties to fifties, white, and physically fit. He was well educated, likely from a privileged background with a history of studying anatomy. The Ripper killed because he could; while he was a sadist he wasn't compelled to murder, and he derived no sexual pleasure from it.
The Ripper killed because it amused him to play an elaborate game of cat and mouse with the authorities, and in particular, Jack Crawford.
That was the most honest description Will had ever given Jack. The rest was nonsense. Mostly true, nonetheless, but nonsense that wouldn't help Jack catch the Chesapeake Ripper, no matter how hard he tried.
Will did so very much love playing games.
Hannibal Lecter had spent his entire life making up for his troublesome and wild youth. That was how he described it when his partners asked after his childhood. It was a polite way of stating he'd gone on a killing spree after his sister had been murdered, and only gotten away with it because there hadn't been any proof that he'd been to blame, only circumstance.
Hannibal didn't regret killing the animals that had attacked his sister. But he tried very hard not to be that man; he'd moved to another country to get away from his past in Lithuania; he'd dedicated his life to helping others with their issues, thinking that perhaps if he'd had someone to talk to, he might not have given into his baser instincts. It was a fool's fantasy, but he was being a productive member of society, and every day he listened to his whinging patients he congratulated himself on it being a day that he did not relapse.
When his old friend Jack Crawford asked him to take on one of his profilers as a patient, he couldn't refuse. The profiler had been forced to kill someone to save another and needed to be cleared for duty. He wondered if he was inviting darkness back into his life. He still didn't say no.
When Will walked into Hannibal Lecter's office he saw a mild-mannered man with so much potential behind his hooded eyes it almost hurt, his chest tightening with excitement. He made it through his first appointment by merely going through the motions, although he allowed a flash of something darker inside himself to escape, just enough to pique Hannibal's interest, but little enough to make him doubt that he'd even seen it in the first place. His following appointments continued in that vein, exposing just a small amount of himself, and seeing Hannibal's eyes darken as he did.
As Will got to know Hannibal better he realised something even more exciting. Hannibal fit Will's profile, down to a t. It was as if Will had created the Chesapeake Ripper just for him.
He checked to see if Hannibal had an alibi for any of his murders. There was nothing concrete. And then the next time he saw someone being rude to Hannibal, Will was simultaneously furious and elated.
Will cut off his victim's lips and forced him to swallow them, to make him regret the words he had spoken. Then he cracked open his chest and stole all of his viable organs besides his heart, which he left framed inside the broken rib cage. He displayed the man with his palms out, offering himself up, and left him outside the opera house.
Hannibal was as much a regular to the scenes of crimes as Will was, and his eyes narrowed when he saw the victim. Did Hannibal recognise him? Did he remember the brief encounter when the man had sworn and shoved past him to get to the front of a supermarket queue? Will hoped so.
"It's a demonstration of affection," he told Jack. Jack's face was twisted with disgust, but there was a dark glee that indicated he was happy to have something new to add to his profile.
Hannibal had an excellent memory, and as such was shocked to recognise the victim, if only in passing. He debated whether it was worth informing Jack that the man that lay dead before him had been rude to him when he'd been doing his shopping last Friday. He couldn't see how it was pertinent, but he wondered.
He didn't say anything.
Will fascinated Hannibal. There was something about him that made Hannibal want to draw him closer, explore him further. He felt as if he were perpetually on the edge of discovering something about him, something nobody else knew. He satisfied himself with discussions of Will's childhood, and invitations for dinner. Sometimes Will returned the favour, feeding Hannibal the meat he caught when he went hunting with his dogs. It was a good trade off. They were, dare he say it, friends.
Hannibal couldn't help but admit that the crime scenes gave him nightmares. It made him think about what could have been. He saw himself as the killer, as the victim. He relived the murders of the men who'd attacked his sister every night in his sleep.
Then one of Hannibal's patients turned up dead. The Chesapeake Ripper pierced Benjamin Raspail's heart, and stole his thymus and pancreas. He was displayed on a church pew.
Hannibal had found Benjamin to be intolerable, although that was an opinion he had shared with few. He wondered if he ought to feel guilty that he'd turned up dead. He didn't.
Will wondered if Hannibal was any closer to figuring out Will's true nature than he had been the last time they'd talked. Will had hinted at a feral side to himself, a side that wished to submit to his instincts and burn down the world.
He hadn't, but there was a darkness in Hannibal's eyes that Will delighted in, one that hadn't been there before Will had murdered Hannibal's patient, and that was enough.
"I cannot honestly say that I will mourn Benjamin," Hannibal whispered. Will slid closer, entwining their hands together.
"You cannot help what you feel," Will said. "Only what you do." He kissed Hannibal, and Hannibal let him, and Will was utterly consumed by him.
Hannibal pinned Will fiercely to his bed, biting and scratching and Will allowed it. He turned on his front and revelled in the anger than Hannibal pounded into him, celebrated each bruise and pushed back against him, fuelling the dark rage.
As they lay sweaty and sated Will curled himself into Hannibal's arms. He changed his plans, realised that he couldn't allow Hannibal to escape his grasp, and especially not to prison.
"I would do anything for you," Will told him.
"And I, you," Hannibal said.
Their romance was like the ocean, at times quiet and serene and at times wild and untameable. Will rejoiced in the tempest and whispered epithets of love during the eye of the storm.
Then someone called them 'faggots' as they sat hand in hand in a café, enjoying a peaceful breakfast before they each left for work. Hannibal's eyes burned with barely concealed anger. Will hid a smile.
Will wasn't home, which was unusual for him at this time of night. Hannibal frowned, and searched the house. He found a notecard in the kitchen, a quote from Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet scrawled upon it.
'When he shall die, take him and cut him out in little stars,
And he will make the face of heaven so fine,
That all the world will be in love with night,
And pay no worship to the garish sun.'
He smiled, and got back into his car.
There was an empty field just outside of Baltimore that allowed for a spectacular view of the night sky. Will loved to star gaze, so Hannibal had taken Will there with a picnic once, and they had quoted Shakespeare at each other until the sun had come up.
Hannibal walked through a small copse from the carpark to the field. Will was standing in the centre, his eyes bright in the moonlight. There was a misshapen lump on the ground beside him.
As Hannibal drew closer, he saw what it was. It was the woman who'd slandered them at breakfast. Her eyes, mouth and ears had been sewn shut. There were ropes around her ankles and her wrists, and Hannibal realised faintly that she was still alive.
"Will," he breathed, the revelation rippling over him. "It's you." There was a hunting knife in Will's hand that he offered hilt first to Hannibal.
"With this I offer you my heart," Will said quietly. "For I cannot live without you, should you turn away from me."
Hannibal gripped the knife tighter. "You're the Chesapeake Ripper." He thought back to the last two murders, and realised that they were macabre offerings, declarations of love.
"Will you join me?" Will asked. "I can see that you want to. There is a darkness inside of you that is just waiting to be set free."
Hannibal's hands shook. Yet again he was faced with this decision; to kill or not to kill. Last time he'd been fuelled by hatred, and allowed himself to be led from that path.
Will procured a scalpel from his pocket. "If you'd prefer," he said. Hannibal looked at it, and found that he did prefer, very much so. He took the scalpel in a now steady hand, the knife dropping to the floor. He knelt beside Will's victim.
"Rudeness is inexcusable," Hannibal said, and she whimpered as much as she was able. He cut her throat, and then extracted her larynx. He stood to kiss Will over her dying body, his trophy clutched in one hand.
"To the victor go the spoils," Will whispered, taking the larynx and sealing it into a plastic bag. "And we are most victorious."
This time he'd willingly walked down the path to darkness, with nothing but love for sustenance, and love was all that he needed.
Word Count: 1756
Hogwarts Auction D14/2. Song — Sweeney Todd [1756 word = 35 coins]