With bright eyes of glazed glass Will stared out the window at the passing evergreens that went on in never ending rows. It was already light out and so he could not help but wonder how long he had been asleep, no dreams came to his memory; it must have been an undisturbed sleep he imagined. Inside the protective shell of the car it was warm and a soft melody played in the background of his thoughts that reminded him of rain. He then turned his gaze to the clock that read 7:26 a.m in a glowing blue, satisfied by this trinket of knowledge, the man allowed himself to relax again. Reclining in the passenger seat he tried to get comfortable, adjusting the seatbelt and turning his body to the driver. Hannibal's eyes had taken many opportunities to look at the other's sleeping form as the car swept them further and further from the mangled town. The dependence and vulnerability that Will Graham exuded delighted him; Will's fingers curled into fists, his face buried in the fabric of his coat, his hair falling over his eyes. Dr. Lecter breathed in the man's musky scent as though it were the finest symphony of smells. The allure which Will possessed was artless and natural, untouched by woman or man. Hannibal allowed himself to have faith that the other man retained the innocence of one who stood at the edge of the world and looked out at it as though at the crystal surface of a lake, its great expanse showing only a magnificent reflection of the sky, and that was enough. To dive in was to drown.
"Are you okay Dr. Lecter?" asked Will, these were the first word he remembered saying in a long time. The past seemed to be cut from him along with its clouds of doubt. He wanted to regain confidence in his body and mind as well as find out all that he could about the man who had willingly fulfilled his secret wishes. He trusted in Dr. Lecter to know what he wanted before he wanted it.
"Yes Will, I am," Hannibal turned his eyes from the road for a moment and looked at him with a gentle smile intermingling with concern. Will took in this face and stored it in the fresh compartments of his memory, observing how subtle and expressive the other's eyes and lips were, how this new set of expressions appeared foreign in some way as though the man were only recently unveiling them.
"How do you feel?" Will went on in his search.
"Blissful," Hannibal replied after a prolonged pause as he searched for the words, it had been a long time since he had to catch his feelings and share them with another, the feelings that he stored for himself for their own sake like wonderful souvenirs.
"Me too, I feel like everything will be different now," Will smiled at Dr. Lecter, he tried not to think but to feel instead, subconsciously he believed this would bring him closer to his real self than the cold scalpel of analysis. It no longer frightened him that his impulses would bring him deeper into madness or in harm's way as his emotions were glowing and light as feathers when he tried to catch them and examine them. They were the sort of feelings that he had felt when he saw his dogs running in the mornings through fields, neither the cold winds nor the mud under their feet deterred their wild exhilaration. While he looked at them he enjoyed their freedom vicariously, a form of joy that he knew would only come from loosening the reins on instinct and emotion as only animals and children could truly do. To weave and analyze was to make a web for oneself, something that is too delicate and bound to get tangled, trapping dirt and living things that he did not want to catch. All that he had discovered from picking and prodding into the minds of people was that they were as a hive of bees, each knowing his place and his ritual, dancing with others like a storm of atoms and contributing to the incessant humming of voices, those that fell out of place shriveled up and died, they were almost the same on the surface, their lives were short, productive, humble, beautiful, repetitive, and meaningless. Still, more than anything else, Will wanted to live.
"Are you hungry?" Hannibal asked him, stirring him from his thoughts.
"Yes, my stomach has been grumbling a bit," all the while he had not stopped smiling, the light from the window seemed to grow brighter. In his gut he felt that something was left unfinished, that something was amiss, that he had turned down the wrong path, but he tried to ignore the sensation, wishing to strike it off as one of the usual bouts of anxiety that followed him wherever he went. The spontaneity that seemed to have caused the prompt departure of himself and Dr. Lecter was bound to come with certain inhibitions, to act without explanation was both liberating and unnerving to some degree to a man such as Will Graham. There was certainly peace to be found in habit but without moderation it would grow to be oppressing, and as for making a habit of the disturbed scenes to which he had been growing accustomed to was further still from the life he hoped to make for himself. This much he knew but from there the future appeared nebulous, the future of his desires. He could only describe it in terms of sensations: the feeling of being out of reach yet at the same time to be embraced by the warmth of a lingering sensation that was quintessentially human. Birds flying south, Will imagined, felt like this, knowing without knowing that somewhere out there an island waited. On his island he did not want to be alone. His heart beat in wonder of what sort of broken being he was supposed to fly to.
"I have brought some food for us," Dr. Lecter steered the car from the road and onto the gravel, as Will looked around he saw there were no other vehicles nearby, only in the depths of the forest did he sense signs of life. It was peaceful and he could not imagine wanting to be elsewhere. With eagerness, the man opened the car door and stepped out, breathing in the crisp air and the scent of pine. It felt good to leave the city behind. He heard a car door being opened and shut and the trunk opening, Dr. Lecter pulled his coat on and went to gather a basket of food and a few blankets. Once all was ready his hand brushed against Will's and a smile encouraged him to follow as the two men made their way into the woods. They walked for about half an hour, neither of them saying a word as they trudged through the light snow. Will's eyes followed the flight of a sparrow as it flitted from branch to branch, returning his gaze with its bright beads of black. The ambiance felt serene, reminding him of archetypes of family and of fairytales, he felt safe and alive, though not quite like himself, he felt guilty because there was a part of him that did not believe he deserved to let go. To leave the weight on his back behind was like losing a vestige limb.
"I wonder if he will look for us, Jack I mean –" Will thought out loud, he imagined Jack as a distant but protective father figure for a moment and himself a reckless impulsive child, he turned his back on what he must do. He refused to sacrifice himself and instead wanted to be happy, Will told himself. Blood stained girls with raven hair flickered through his eyes telling him that he ought to have run away, that it was dishonorable but human, to be selfish.
"I wrote a message to Jack before we left to inform him on our behalf," Hannibal answered him.
"What did you tell him?" Will inhaled deeply and held his breath for a moment.
"That upon my recommendation you have agreed to take a few weeks from your work for the sake of your health," Dr. Lecter answered concisely. "Given the significant impact recent events have had upon you I imagine Dr. Bloom would find our excursion equally advisable."
"How very plausible," running his hands down his neck in a gesture of mild nervousness, Will considered what it was that had truly happened.
"What do you believe has brought you here?" Will's question was echoed out loud in the voice of Hannibal.
"I don't know, I—I just wanted to get away, to run, to keep on running for a bit because I know I will eventually come back to where I started," he felt a pang of sadness hit him as he imagined how fleeting and imperfect the present moment was. "And you – I suppose. Why did you take me out here Dr. Lecter?"
"I wanted to escape with you, we could run together," Hannibal replied, his eyes avoided the other man as he spoke. He moved ahead, pushing aside branches as he continued to make his way through the thick forest.
"What are you running from?" Will stopped walking and after a few steps Dr. Lecter paused as well, no longer hearing the cracking of branches behind him marking that his companion was following.
"An unnatural life," answered Dr. Lecter.
"Your life seems very beautiful from the outside."
"Most lives do."
"I wouldn't say so. They are not so immaculate. I'm sure you're as natural as anybody but you clean up after yourself so well that there's nothing left to see."
"Nothing left to see?"
"Perhaps I have not been looking but in a way I felt that I shouldn't have been. It's like walking in a garden and looking at the worms and the dirt from which the roses grow instead of at the roses. There is always something broken in artists, the ones I like at least. It's strange that I have never seen you laugh or cry."
"You have."
"It didn't seem real, your laughter. And your tears – I buried them."
"Why?"
"I did not know what they meant from someone like you."
"Someone like me?"
"A monster, a monster that is barely alive," Will felt resentment welling up inside of him, bile of hatred that he wished he had thrown up long ago. But even in that moment he tried to keep it back, he did not know what he would do with it once he gave voice to his fears, nor could he say what Hannibal would do. All that he could feel certain of was that his fate would not be ordinary, either he would not bring himself to harm him or he would die with a godly dignity in the other's eyes. "I did not know why I did what I did. You would not cry from pain," Will muttered the words for his own sake, as though to speak his thoughts would make them more tangible and real rather than a whirlwind of fantasy and paranoia. He remembered the prior night more vividly, how a part of him wanted to tear Hannibal apart like an old doll while another fragment of himself would cling to what was left of an illusion.
"Is there any other reason why a man cries?"
"There is but I do not need to say it."
"To deceive, is it not so?"
"Yes, in a way it felt as though you were lying to me by showing emotions," a bitter scowl was upon his face as he spat out his words of venom, not knowing what effect they would have upon the other. He knew that on the surface he would appear unwell which further added to his frustrations, to have such a sudden shift from happiness to disdain, the shell of happiness had cracked in the sun and fallen off like a scab. He felt that blood would flow in rivers. "Emotions fit for something sniveling rather than something monstrous – but at the same time they did not seem fake, I- I cannot explain," the man turned away from the other's gaze which he imagined was scrutinizing him like an insect.
"In what way am I a monster Will?" asked Dr. Lecter. "I cannot help but wonder at what point I had lost your trust, at what point I had been reckless. Certainly I have given you much to choose from in the repertoire of signs left to you, I knew that I could not keep from your path forever, nor do I desire to. I myself cannot trace the contours of what I am becoming, a part of me senses a longing for the possibility of your understanding and friendship, infusing me with your humanity. Having drawn myself closer and closer to you has awakened a sensitivity that had once possessed only practical uses in my life, starving me from the depths of human nature that I hoped to mirror in my construction. Most will only ever see this veil, I hide myself behind it and protect what is left of me. But the human waltz has led me to little satisfaction. Whether it is truly so or merely a desire, I believe myself to be capable of affection and altruism, of profound emotion; the highs and lows of pleasure and pain. This is the truth that I see and offer to you when I lift the veil."
Will looked at the other with a mixture of fear and morbid curiosity.
"I trust you entirely and not at all," he chuckled at his own words that sounded like a child's riddle in his ears. "I listen to what you say but I do not know why. I feel safe with you and afraid, both at the same time. I have been having this vision, over and over again, of a monster that has your face. I remember I once told you that I did not find you very interesting and you said that I would. By your voice it seemed as though you wanted to lace those words with more than what they were and I did not let go of them. In some dark pit in my mind I knew you were him – the Chesapeake Ripper. I felt like you were trying to tell me but were afraid to."
"Yes Will," Dr. Lecter licked his lips and swallowed, his gaze unwaveringly falling on Will, "I was afraid."
"That made me angry, to know that you wanted me to look at them all, that you were watching the whole time, watching me to see how I liked it, watching me feel inside of you," he remembered fragments from the previous night and from the days when Hannibal would follow him like a jackal to his personal exhibits of contorted death.
"I am sorry."
The words thrashed in Will's head like a curse, Hannibal's formal emotionless tone echoing in his ears like an enigma. He wanted to believe that they were genuine but even if they were how trivial an apology was for all the blood that stained his hands, Will knew that Hannibal could never atone for what he had done.
"What are you sorry for?"
"For having caused you suffering."
"Me?" Will's lips curled into an incredulous scowl. "Don't pity the dead, pity the living, is that it? And the people you killed like animals –"
"If a man eats an animal few would think less of him in this society," spoke Dr. Lecter. "The argument of those that take exception to him is that animals and men have an equal right to life; neither deserve such a death, or both do. By what principle do you accept the former justification as ethical and not the latter?"
As he listened Will tried to contain his disbelief, the thought was not new to him that the Chesapeake Ripper likely ate the organs of his victims but, until the present, his mind had kept this entity separate from that of Dr. Lecter as a defense mechanism of a mirage that must inevitably crumble.
"- To think otherwise would be to presume that the animal of man is entitled to live by a form of superiority over beasts, and if no significant superiority is found then there is a revulsion simply due to a social contract of self-interest. Whichever the case may be, humanity and empathy for the weaker has not been a strong motivator for most in sparing them from their dinner table."
"You make the notion of cannibalism sound almost vegetarian," Will remarked grimly.
"How rarely such considerations must cross the minds of those keeping animals as companions," Hannibal smiled lightly.
"Are food and friendship really so inseparable? I don't know whether to laugh, cry, or shoot myself."
"How do you feel Will?"
"Like I should be more appalled than I am – I just want to know, what happens now, with me?" he asked. "Not that it matters but I want to know how you imagined this would end. I can imagine why you chose me for this grand adventure, I suppose attracting the curiosity of shrinks and psychopaths is one of the many blessings of my wonderful 'gift', but what is it that you want from me that is worth a death sentence? Correct me if I'm mistaken but it seems like you've saved no expense to put on this show for me and marvel at my reaction. You knew that Jack would come closer and closer to finding you with every increasingly bold step. You knew that."
"I did and I believe you are worth every sacrifice," Dr. Lecter replied. "I hoped to find myself in you and find you in me. I wanted to be close to you."
Will grit his teeth in reaction to the irony in the other man's words, the many so-called sacrifices that he would see for many nights to come would be a dire reminder of the abominable world he had entangled. Still when he looked at Hannibal seeing the other's fatigued figure and mournful expression made the moment bittersweet to Will against his greatest hopes. The fear had long haunted him of attaching his sympathies to human minds twisted beyond recognition, no longer could they be called humane. He did not know to what extent Dr. Lecter had manipulated him or if he was manipulating him still but in his own way he it was hard to disregard his every word and movement as a figment of a façade.
"What do you mean by that?" Will asked, "- To be close to me." The two of them stood in silence as Dr. Lecter considered the question and weighed his words carefully.
"Do you believe that there is a worthy compensation for the lives that I have taken?" he began. "Anything that I may do to mend what I have done would be of no more worth than the simple words 'I'm sorry', I cannot bring back the lives that I have taken."
"No," Will replied firmly. "There is no compensation."
"I wanted to know what you would do once you saw every part of me," Dr. Lecter explained, "I would have the rare opportunity to watch my mind be dissected at a distance. For me this was the beginning of our bond, a mutual understanding. I wish that it could have been otherwise but we may both agree that to speak openly to you at the time would have been impossible without bringing our relationship to an abrupt end. The second stage of our bond was a mutual dependence, for which I sacrificed my professional integrity and your health, the latter of which I hoped to address before your condition developed in severity. I would feel your absence sharply and recognized signs of jealousy in myself when you had mentioned your affection for Alana Bloom. This led to actions of recklessness on my part in encouraging you to investigate Tobias. I had never anticipated that I could be made so vulnerable by an emotional attachment to another human being and I would not have it otherwise. The experience of life is rendered shallow without any form of human connection, before I had met you the most intimate bond I had formed with others had been through art, the relics they left behind. While I regret the harm I had caused, I still hope to be the first person to whom you would go to for help and for a time it was so. In hindsight I wish I had found another way to spare you of pain or deceit even at greater harm to myself. I have never met another with whom I could feel so entangled, who could see the world as I do and look deeper still. Above all else I want your companionship, for you to allow me to devote myself to you unconditionally and give me the opportunity to share the world with you through your eyes. I would willingly submit to you and feel that your life is of greater value than mine, you have a unique beautiful mind that I do not imagine to find elsewhere. For this reason I have placed you, myself, and innocent others in harm's way, ultimately my motivations are selfish. By deceit I have prolonged the pleasure of our friendship which I desire above all else."