Notes: Two chapters in one day. I am good to you. One left to go!

So I bare my skin
and I count my sins
and I close my eyes
and I take it in
I'm bleeding out
I'm bleeding out for you

Bleeding Out- Imagine Dragons

It was unseasonably sunny. Hannibal was smiling as he walked back to his car. He was excited to get back home.

It was a strange feeling, knowing that there was somebody waiting for him. Somebody who loved him.

Abigail was there, too. Hannibal knew what she was, and what she had done. She needed him.

The whole thing was strangely satisfying.

He had just climbed into his car when his phone rang. He saw his home number on the display and smiled, expecting to hear Will's voice when he answered.

"I have them." The words were cold. Greg Walker.

Hannibal's smile died. His stomach gave a sick lurch. This was what happened when you loved people. "Excuse me?" He forced the words out in a cool, calm voice, but inside he was breaking.

"Your boyfriend and the girl. I know what you did to me. I know you made me hurt people." Greg's voice was chilling: calm, yet tinged with madness.

"I am not sure what you are talking about." Hannibal had started the engine and was already pulling out of the car park, his heart racing in his chest. "Please do not hurt them, Greg."

Realistically, Will and Abigail should have a good chance against Walker. Will was trained with a gun and was strong and capable. Abigail had killed a man already and was smart enough to know how to outwit Walker. However, Will's ankle was a definite handicap. For the first time, Hannibal cursed himself for doing it.

He was driving more erratically than usual, desperate to get home, although he had no idea what his plan was. He had to keep Walker talking.

"I haven't hurt them yet. Not really," Walker said in his ear, the words velvety.

"Can I speak to them?"

He heard Walker consider, then the sound of the phone being passed to someone else.

"Hannibal?" It was Will. Hannibal exhaled in relief. Will sounded shaky, but alive.

"Will, are you hurt?"

"No." A pause; Hannibal heard Will swallow. "Abigail is, though."

Hannibal felt the blood drain away from his face. "How badly?"

"It's hard to say." Will's voice was measured, but Hannibal could imagine his face as he said the words- his teeth would be clamped, the words uttered around them. Will was concealing great anger. At any time, it would be interesting and arousing. "There's a lot of blood."

"Please pass the phone back to Walker." Hannibal sighed. "I love you."

"I know," Will said. He didn't want to say the words in front of Walker. Hannibal understood. He suspected that Will was angry with him. He could hardly blame him; he was angry at himself.

"So, that's where we're at," Walker said.

"What do you need from me?" Hannibal was speeding, one hand gripping the wheel as he manoeuvred the roads. It was such a long drive home.

"I need you to return, alone. If you bring anyone or tell anyone, I will kill them both. Slowly."

"I understand."

Hannibal heard the click as Walker hung up.

Normally a situation like this would thrill him, but he felt nothing other than cold dread and fear. Abigail had lost blood; what had happened to her? Wasn't it his job to protect her?

Wasn't it his job to protect Will, too?

He was furious with himself. He had been so distracted by events with Will that he hadn't foreseen the possibility of Walker's return.

It was hard to imagine that mere hours ago, he had heard Will tell him that he loved him for the first time. Will's memories of this day would be forever tainted now.

Although any memory with Hannibal would always be tainted.

He was holding the wheel so tightly that his knuckles were white. There was a gun and a knife in the car; he would place these beneath his coat and kill Walker quickly- a shame, really, but he didn't want to risk Will or Abigail.

It seemed to take a lifetime to reach his house. He forced himself to pull up carefully, conscious of the neighbours, and he walked inside calmly, although inside he was a mess.

They were in the kitchen. The first thing he saw was the blood; usually it didn't shock him, but it was scarlet and Abigail's and it was splashed everywhere... he swallowed and took a deep breath.

Abigail was on the floor. Will was pressing a ruined shirt- checked, so not Hannibal's- to her stomach. She was out cold, her face young and vulnerable.

Walker was leaning against the counter, his eyes wild. He was pointing a gun at Will.

"She needs medical assistance," Hannibal said. "Please allow me to tend to her wound."

Walker frowned, hesitating. "Very well."

Hannibal crossed the room and dropped to his knees beside Abigail. His eyes met Will's over her; Will's glasses were sprayed with blood, a grim reminder of the last time they had been in a similar situation. Behind them, his eyes were dark, furious and terrified.

Gently, Hannibal covered Will's shaking hands and tugged them away. Will had pushed Abigail's shirt up and Hannibal could see the knife wound clearly. It was shallow. She had lost blood, but if they could get her to a hospital she would live.

He was almost surprised by the relief he felt, and he wordlessly took Will's hands and pressed them and the shirt back on her wound. He saw some of the tension melt away from Will, who understood that keeping pressure on the wound was not a waste of time.

Hannibal stood up and faced Walker.

"She needs to go to hospital. Please allow me to call for an ambulance. You and I can depart, so we are not present when it arrives."

"I'm afraid I'm not that stupid."

Hannibal took a deep, steadying breath. "If your plan is to kill me, please do it quickly. She needs help as soon as possible. If you kill me, then leave, Will can get her some help."

Will's shocked gasp at his words was so loud he could almost taste it. Hannibal would have been offended, but he was surprising even himself.

"Too easy, I'm afraid." Walker was clearly excited. He had obviously thought about his plan carefully, and Hannibal knew from the gleam in his eyes that he wasn't going to like what came next. "I have a choice for you."

"Oh?"

Walker lifted something from the counter and held it triumphantly. It was the journal, the one Hannibal had given Will. Will had hidden it in with the recipe books in the kitchen; he had never mentioned this to Hannibal, but Hannibal had very good reason to keep track of this book.

"I didn't give him that," Will said hollowly. "He found it."

"I know," Hannibal said, keeping his eyes on Walker. He wanted to reach for his gun and shoot him- an almost painful rage was rising up within him. He was very aware of Walker's gun pointed at Will.

"The choice, then: either you kill Will Graham, or Will Graham takes this to your friend Jack Crawford and delivers it to him by hand."

Hannibal felt the world tilt and had to steady himself on the counter. He felt a brief stab of pride that he had moulded Walker into this clever creature.

The choice was a lot simpler than he would have imagined.

"If Will takes the journal to Jack Crawford, you will allow him to take Abigail to hospital on the way." The words sounded distant, far away- it was as if he was watching himself.

"Hannibal-" Will said his name, and he sounded close and horrified.

Walker nodded, and Hannibal turned to Will. Will was looking up at him, eyes wide and round. His chest was rising and falling rapidly. Hannibal realised for the first time that Will was wrapped in his dressing gown; it was too big for Will's narrow frame, and now it was covered in Abigail's blood.

"Will has a broken ankle. I need to help him get dressed and place him in the car."

"Will you be able to drive?" Walker asked Will, and Will nodded wordlessly.

Hannibal left Walker pressing down on Abigail's stomach, his gun pressed to her temple. The threat was clear; if Will and Hannibal did anything stupid, he would kill her.

Will was leaning against him heavily. Hannibal could kill him now, he realised; he could simply reach down and break his lovely neck. If he returned to the kitchen with Will's body cradled in his arms, Walker would lower his gun and laugh- Hannibal could charge him and kill him so easily.

If only he could kill Will Graham.

In Hannibal's bedroom, Will pulled on a shirt and jeans without speaking to Hannibal. His face was closed. He sat on the edge of the bed, fastening the buttons with shaking fingers.

Hannibal fetched a damp cloth and knelt down before him, reaching up to remove the glasses from his face and wiping the blood from them, before wiping Will's face.

Will caught his hand and held it. His eyes burned into Hannibal's.

"This is not good," he said.

"Do what you have to do."

"Why aren't you just killing me?" Will asked.

"In you, I have found someone I care about even more than myself." Hannibal almost smiled at Will's disbelieving snort. "Trust me, I find it as startling as you do."

"But... if I take that journal to Jack..."

"Will, please, you must. A life without you is not one I wish to live."

Will's eyes filled with tears. "But you're asking me to live mine without you."

Hannibal tried to think of an alternative, but he had none. He replaced Will's glasses, then kissed him. Would this be the last time their lips met? He kissed Will hungrily, and Will responded with equal intensity.

"I love you," Hannibal told him.

"I love you."

They returned to the kitchen and Walker handed Will the journal.

"If you do not return with the FBI within two hours, he dies," he said blankly, gesturing to Hannibal.

Will nodded, leaning on his crutches. Hannibal carried Abigail to the car, sick to discover that her pulse was faint. Walker followed them, his gun aimed at Hannibal. Hannibal wondered if anyone was watching from the surrounding windows, but he couldn't see anyone.

Will started the car and reversed.

Walker followed Hannibal back into the house. He was good at this; he stayed constantly just out of Hannibal's reach, so Hannibal had no option to try to wrench the gun from him.

"This is what you deserve," Walker said.

Hannibal forced a smile. "I deserve far worse."