Cherry Wine

5

He was lucky, they said. It could have killed him. But it didn't and so he was lucky. Or so they say. She didn't see the luck. She didn't know what or who to trust. Jack said it was over. The evidences said it was over – Dolarhyde was dead, she'd made sure he was. The doctors said it would take time. The journalists didn't seem to want it to ever end. And she wasn't allowed to go see him. He is too weak, they said. He needs time, they said.

So she stopped asking for permission. She waved around her badge and she entered the room. She locked the door. And, slowly, she walked closer to the bed. At first, she couldn't see a thing except those white blankets that seemed to eat Will alive. When she got close enough, she realized it wasn't just blankets. Bandages, as well, all around his head, covering his face, hiding his mouth, his eyes, his cheeks, his chin. Or what remained of them. She heard one of the junior doctors saying that it looked like a sick jigsaw. That he would never look human being again. That finally the flesh reflected the madness within. Of course, he shut up as soon as he realized she was listening. He grew really pale and disappeared in a corner of the multiples corridors of the hospital.

She sat on the edge of the bed and didn't say anything for a while. He can hear, but he can't answer, the doctors said. She was sure he could. He just had nothing to tell them. And she knew he was looking at her through the two tiny holes in his bandages. She forced a smile and tilted her head. She reached for his hand and gently squeezed it. What could she tell him ? That she was alive and kicking and, for some reasons she couldn't really understand, he was only barely alive and definitely not kicking ? She gulped.

She knew what they all thought. It could have been her. It probably should have been her – she was the one who did the talking, with Lecter. But he was the one trusted with Dolarhyde's case. She was deemed too fragile, too shaken by what happened with Hannibal. But still Will and her worked together on this case, as they always did. But in the end, Will was the only target. Why ? Dolarhyde received information from someone, Jack said. They didn't really know from whom. I know. It must have been Lecter. It couldn't be anyone else. He retaliated, at last. But not against me.

"Hi," she finally said. "The doctors said you can't speak. It's okay, you don't need to. I just want you to know that… It's over. He is dead. I don't know if you know, but… I wanted to tell you.

- Lecter ?" Her eyes widened. His voice was croaky and he was apparently unable to really distinguish the syllables, but he could speak. "Lecter ?

- They put him in a another cell. Smaller. No window. Concrete walls. No view.

- You spoke…?"

She couldn't see his eyes, couldn't see his face, couldn't know what he meant. But the way he said that sounded like a threat. Or a reproach. She gulped and shook her head. Of course she didn't – she had nothing to tell him. Soon enough, she would have to go back and resume her profiling. It wasn't going anywhere and she damn well knew it, but the FBI wanted more information about it. They wanted everything she could get. It had become almost pleasant to talk with him, lately. He almost killed Will.

He didn't say anything. She caressed his hand. She had been ready to hear it, after they took him to the hospital. She thought they were going to tell her he was dead. But they didn't. He is alive, they said. And it had broken her, in a way she never thought possible. She had lost her family. She had lost friends. She was prepared to lose… Him. But he wasn't dead and she had realised how much it would have hurt her to lose him. And since then, she asked herself the same question over and over again. What is he ? What was he, for her ? What was she, for him ? She never dared answer this question. She wanted him to answer it for her – she wanted to tell him she was scared. And she tried. But it didn't pass her lips. She was unable to utter it.

"Can I bring you anything ?" She smiled again, in a pretty weak way. "Some covers, books ? Clothes ?

- No.

- Alright, nothing then. Listen, I…" She gulped. I have to tell him. I could've lost him ! "Will, I…

- You're fine."

Startled, she only nodded. Why does it sound so… So… Accusatory ? She was going to take back his hand in hers when he put it far enough from her to avoid her touch. She gritted her teeth and bit her lips. She could feel his eyes… His eye, she had to remember, staring at her, under the bandages. And she could tell, even without seeing it, that his stare was ice-cold. She managed to keep on smiling and shrugged lightly.

"I am. I only had a few bruises here and there, but…

- Thank Hannibal.

- What ?" She blinked, now genuinely dumbfounded. "What are you talking about ?

- Lucky you. Spared you.

- It has nothing to do with him, Will, and you know it."

She stood up and walked around the bed. He didn't need to scream to be perfectly clear. He's blaming me for being alive. She ran a hand across her face and shook it almost violently. She couldn't let him say this. It wasn't true. She had not been spared by Hannibal. He did send Dolarhyde to Will. And she wasn't supposed to be home when he came. She was supposed to be…

She closed her eyes a few seconds and gulped again. Hardly. I was supposed to be with him. We had an appointment. She cancelled it because she had made a last-minute reservation in a restaurant to celebrate the end of the Tooth Fairy case. She was only going home to pick Will up and force him to go out. I wasn't supposed to be there. She wasn't supposed to even risk anything. She was supposed to be with Hannibal. It was his plan.

"See ?" He croaked. A weird sound followed. A laugh. Bitter laugh. "Feels good ?

- You're… You can't say that, Will," she almost pleaded. "You can't blame me for not being dead.

- How did you… Do that ?

- I didn't do anything Will ! I just… I just spoke to him, as I'm ordered to do. I have no idea what led his twisted mind to ask Dolarhyde to kill you and not me !

- Spoke."

She suddenly felt sick. Is it what he thinks of me ? Since how many time ? Why ? It wasn't fair, she wasn't responsible for any lecherous feeling Hannibal harboured for her, or any inclination he had toward her and not toward him. I'm not responsible for being alive ! She would have given her health for his, for him not to be there. She would have given her life for him.

How dare he ? Sickness quickly got replaced by anger. What a stupid girl she was. She should have seen that coming. The whole FBI was suspecting her of some sort of conspiracy. I'm not responsible for all of this ! She let out a groan and stopped in front of his bed. She leaned on the bedstead, facing him and his broken face. He's broken, he's sick, he's weak, a part of her mind was trying to tell her. He's not himself. But he so clearly was. He so clearly was lucid. He was so clearly expressing his thoughts. It wasn't sickness or brokenness. And it was exactly what was breaking her.

"You don't have the right to accuse me of collusion ! I spent all these night worrying about you, worrying about your state, about your life !" She tried not to scream. If I scream I'm going to cry as well. She took a deep breath. "You obviously need rest. I'll come back later."

She came back at his side. Please, just be tired. She didn't try to take his hand again, certain he would just take it back. She tried one last time, tried to believe one last time everything they had wasn't broken, and leaned closer to him to kiss his cheek. She turned his head away, slowly. She froze and fought back tears. She stood up, stepped back to the door, unable to take her eyes off this figure of a man, this bandaged figure of what used to be a man. Used to be my man. Could have been her man. He ostensibly turned his head to the window, on the other side of the room. She understood. So she went out.

He was lucky, they said. It could have killed him, but it didn't so he was lucky. She couldn't see the luck back then, and she couldn't see it now. He should have died, she couldn't help but think. Dolarhyde should have aimed for the heart. She thought nothing could be more painful that the thought of him dead, she thought she was lucky. She thought nothing could be worst than losing him to death. She thought she was lucky because she hadn't. She was wrong, oh god, she was so wrong. She had lost him. Dolarhyde had taken Will away from her. He had taken her Will and he had replaced him with this mere figure of a man. And this man didn't trust her anymore – this man betrayed her. Just like most of the FBI was already betraying her. She didn't go to their old flat. She didn't want to drown herself in everything that used to be true and that were now gone. She drove to the penitentiary and, for the first time since Dolarhyde had taken Will from her, she went down all the stairs and found herself in front of Hannibal Lecter.

"Tell me, Andrea. How is Will ?

- You killed him, doctor.

- What a shame." Smile. "But he is not dead.

- Not yet."

She never asked the right question. Never asked him why she was alive. She already knew the answer. I think I always knew it.