Title: Conversations with a Cannibal
Rating: T
Warnings: Violence, swearing, dubious consent, discussion of drug use, non-consensual drug use, murder, gore, cannibalism, forced cannibalism, heavily implied rape, fade-to-black rape, torture, psychological torture, dangerous medical procedures, sexual situations. This story is potentially triggering. Proceed with caution.
Part 13: Blinding
Chapter Twenty-Four
It was dark and eerily silent as Will crept toward the car. It was parked far enough away from the streetlights that he couldn't quite make out the color. He used the shadows to his advantage, moving slowly through them and trying to banish the ridiculous comparison to Dracula from his thoughts.
As he got closer he could make out the silhouette of the driver – definitely a woman. His fists clenched tight when he saw the mass of curls leaning forward in the car. Even in the darkness he knew it had to be Freddie Lounds and she was steadily taking photos. For a moment, all Will saw was red and his body felt taut with the tension.
Unconsciously, his fingers slipped into his pocket, sliding over the handle of a beaten up old hunting knife he'd taken for good measure. It wasn't as good as a gun, but a weapon was a weapon.
As he crossed the street and came up around the car from behind he saw a brief flash of Freddie's red hair as she ducked her head. She was looking for something. Another camera, a recorder, a phone to call the police…
Will doubled his pace, moving swiftly forward until he could reach out and touch the back door on the driver's side. Without a thought, he yanked it open and slid inside. His hands didn't tremble as he reached forward and jerked Freddie's head back, the tip of the hunting knife pressing dangerously hard against her throat.
His breathing was heavy and his entire body tingled. The knife pressed harder against her throat and he couldn't stop himself from speaking.
"It wasn't very smart to come here alone,"
To her credit, Freddie didn't scream. Her voice wavered, but she let out a nervous laugh, smiling faintly.
"Will Graham," she said, "Always knew you were a killer."
Will's fingers in her hair tightened and he felt a thrill run through him as she winced. God, the times he'd fantasized about a moment like this. It probably made him a sick person, but he did not care.
"Too bad you'll never get to tell anyone."
"I've got all the evidence, Mr. Graham," she said, "Do you think you'll be able to argue your way out of that?"
Will leaned forward, his breath pressing against her ear, "But you can't show anyone those pictures if you're dead."
Will could feel her fear. He could hear it in her quick breaths, smell it in her sweat and see it in her trembling hands. It was amazing. He felt light headed and half-drunk and all it took was one quick, hard jerk to expose her throat. She swallowed loudly and her breathing stuttered as he slowly pressed down on the knife.
It was one vicious, violent movement, but in his head it happened in glorious slow motion.
His fingers tightened around the handle of the knife and Freddie shook as he pressed it into her skin. The first drop of blood slid out, looking black in the darkness. The metallic smell hit him and he felt like he was flying as he pushed all of his strength into the blade and ripped it across her throat.
It took considerable effort to pull it across the flesh and the muscle but once his knife cut through her jugular and blood gushed out to splatter the windshield it didn't matter how his arm ached with the effort.
His eyes were dark with the euphoria as he watched the ruby-black liquid spray out in all directions. It was like watching something beautiful and sacred, Freddie's warm blood hitting the glass and the inside of the car seeming to grow thick with the heat and the smell.
For the longest moment Will simply sat there, a wondrous feeling rushing through his veins.
But then he was moving again, faster than before. He snatched her bag and her phone and her camera. He searched the car and remembered to wipe his prints away.
It wasn't until he was out of the car, staring at Freddie's lifeless form through the window, that he remembered he had told Clarice he wasn't going to kill her. He tried to remember why he'd made such a promise, but all he could think was how much the mere sight of Freddie Lounds sent his blood boiling. He couldn't make himself regret it.
Hannibal was right about him. He was just as much a monster as he was.
The door didn't make a sound as Spencer pulled it open. His shoulders relaxed when he wasn't immediately noticed. Swallowing, he peaked his head outside and looked around. The hall was wide and long, dotted with half a dozen other doors. There wasn't anyone that he could see, but he heard a voice talking – the thick accent sending a jolt through his body as he recognized the voice of his earlier attacker.
He was talking on the phone to someone, Spencer assumed. His voice was low and he said "sir" several times so it was likely Verger he was talking to. As the voice got closer Spencer could hear his footsteps. His chest felt tight and he held his breath.
As quietly and quickly as he could, he pushed the door closed again and stood to one side. He could still hear the voice, louder now as he approached. He felt like he was trapped in a horror movie for a moment when the door handle twisted, but the door didn't open right away.
"Of course," he was saying, "I will bring him immediately."
Spencer trembled and pressed himself as hard as he could against the wall. The man stopped talking and finally the door was pushed open. He only got a glimpse of his face as his eyes darted to the unoccupied bed. As swiftly as he could, Spencer brought the mirror down heavily over his head.
The glass made a horrible cracking sound and Spencer felt the aftershock of the blow jolting up his arms. The man stumbled, swearing in Spanish, and nearly fell to his knees, but he did not pass out.
He jerked unsteadily to his feet, one hand pressing against his head where he'd been hit. His eyes were unfocused and if anything, Spencer thought he might have given him a concussion. He didn't want to stick around to find out though, and instead ran as fast as he could from the room.
"Fuck!" the man's reaction was slow, but he chased after him, "Get back here you fucking bitch!"
Spencer's legs were longer, but he was weak and tired. Even with the possibly mild concussion, the man was stronger and faster. He lunged and crashed into the younger man, sending them both sprawling across the floor.
Spencer bit back a scream and tried to remember every little bit of self-defense training Morgan had taught him. He was not good at fighting, but he knew the specifics and all he really had to do was incapacitate the man and use his phone. He could call Hannibal –
His thoughts jerked to a halt when a callused hand wrapped around his throat and squeezed. His legs flailed awkwardly and his first instinct was to latch onto the hand at his neck, but he wasn't anywhere near strong enough to pull him away.
Closing his eyes, Spencer fought not to struggle. He went as limp as he could, holding his breath and hoping it would work.
After a moment, the powerful grip loosened and he felt the man move to stand, one hand gripping his shoulder to haul him up. His eyes snapped open and he slammed his left knee up and into the man's groin.
The grip at his shoulder fell away and the man screeched as he stumbled. Spencer pulled himself away from him as quickly as he could and debated for half a second about trying to get the phone. He was still not a match physically for him and he didn't want to take the chance. He'd find a phone downstairs if he had to.
He took off running again, slower than before as his muscles twinged and he felt new bruises forming. He didn't look back, but it was nearly a full thirty seconds before his attacker came after him again and the head start let him get to the landing of the staircase before being caught.
Gripping the handrail with his good hand Spencer launched himself down the stairs two at a time. He nearly tripped, but held himself steady as he reached the bottom and picked a direction to run without thinking, feeling fleeting hope that he might actually be free.
Only to run straight into his other kidnapper. His heart squeezed and he nearly fell to the floor, but two powerful hands latched onto his upper arms and kept him in place. He might have been grateful if it hadn't been for the murderous look the man was giving him.
Seconds later his attacker came fumbled down the stairs, swearing loudly.
"He nearly escaped," the man holding Spencer said. His accent was thick, but not as hard to understand as the other's. "Can't you do anything right, Miguel?"
Miguel scowled, "He took me by surprise!" he said, "It is not my fault!"
Spencer felt the hands around him tightened and suddenly found himself being spun around so that his back to the man holding him. His wrists were pulled tightly together and he heard the distinct click of handcuffs being locked. They were too tight, cutting harshly into his already abused wrists and he grimaced.
"You were supposed to be watching him,"
Miguel's eyes flashed angrily toward Spencer, "How was I supposed to know the little bitch would break out of his handcuffs, huh?"
Spencer's jaw clenched and he looked down at the floor. His heart was racing and he felt cold and sick. He wanted to vomit, but he doubted very seriously if they would take kindly to that.
Behind them, Spencer heard the faint sound of Verger's electric wheelchair and was suddenly spun around as the man holding him turned to face him. Verger and his doctor stood before them. Verger's one good eye shone with delight as he stared at them and his nonexistence lips were twisted into something similar to a smile.
"Miguel, Felix, bring him around back. Our guest Dr. Lecter is here."
Spencer's eyes widened. Hannibal was there? He had to stop himself from grinning. And then he wondered why he even thought Hannibal being there was a good thing. He just knew that he wanted to see Hannibal again and that made him feel even queasier than he already was.
Felix marched him outside with Verger and his doctor in the lead and Miguel following behind. He could feel Miguel's angry glare on the back of his head, but tried to ignore it. There was a pit that was slowly forming in his gut as they crossed the wide yard and headed toward a barn sitting at the far edge of the property, lights shining through the cracks in the wood.
As they got close, Spencer could hear loud squeals and snuffling sounds and felt his blood run cold as he tried very hard not to think about exactly what horrible fate Verger had planned.
It was easier to get inside Verger's mansion than Clarice would have suspected. There were only two men near the side gate when she and Dr. Lecter approached it. She knocked one out with her gun and by the time she'd turned around the other was on the ground at Lecter's feet. She wasn't entirely sure if he'd killed the man or knocked him unconscious and she was scared to check.
Her breath puffed out in the cold night air and she met Lecter's eyes.
He stared back unflinchingly and his lips twisted slightly.
"Shall we continue, Clarice?" he asked.
Lips tightening, she nodded and he fell in step beside her as they made their way to the house. It was quiet and Clarice's footsteps snapped a bit against the hard floors. Lecter moved soundlessly. She glanced over to make sure that he was actually still there and frowned.
She cleared her throat, "Can I ask you a question, Doctor?"
"You may ask me anything, Clarice," he said, "I cannot guarantee an answer."
She smiled faintly.
"What's so important about Dr. Reid?" she asked, "Why do you care so much that you're willing to risk all this for him? And, actually… what's so important about Will Graham or even me? Why did you come to me for help?"
Dr. Lecter paused and looked at her thoughtfully.
"Are you certain you want me to answer that?"
"I wouldn't have asked otherwise," she said, pausing to watch him. He was so close she could reach out and touch him if she wanted – and she did want to – but she didn't dare. The air between them seemed to vibrate as she waited for him to answer.
Before he could, the door behind them was thrown open and Clarice spun around, gun raised and finger poised over the trigger. Will stood there, breathing heavily. He had a bag clutched in one hand and his hands and shirt were splattered with blood. Squinting, she thought there might have been blood smeared on his glasses as well.
He spoke before she could, "They're out back, heading for the barn. I saw them on my in here."
Lecter was eyeing Will curiously and Clarice lowered her gun, but kept her finger tightly pressed against the trigger.
"That isn't your blood," she said, her words hard and clear.
Will looked down at himself, eyes wide as if he had just realized he was covered in someone else's blood. He looked back up and stared hard at Clarice's forehead.
"Things happened," he said, "I didn't have a choice."
Clarice scowled, "I said no killing," she said.
"And I said I didn't have a choice," Will grated through his teeth. "We can argue about this later. Verger is taking Spencer to the barn."
Clarice let out a breath and removed her finger from the trigger. "Alright," she said. "Let's go."
As they started toward the door she stopped and looked back at Will, "And give me the knife."
She held out her hand expectantly. Will hesitated, a scowl twisting the messy scars on his face. Clarice raised her brows impatiently and he dug the knife out, dropping it into her open palm. She tried not to think about the sticky blood on the handle as she shoved it into her belt and scrubbed her hand against her jeans.
Will wasn't quite meeting her eyes, but his gaze was burning, daring her to say something else. She wanted to, but they were trying to save Dr. Reid's life at the moment, so she started forward, not bothering to think of how insane she was for putting her back to two people she knew were perfectly capable of brutal murder.
Will and Hannibal stayed a bit behind Clarice, who insisted on taking the lead as they headed for the barn.
"You said you had no choice but to kill our mysterious follower," Hannibal said quietly. "You were lying."
Will didn't say anything, lowering his eyes to the ground and taking a deep breath.
"Will?" Hannibal asked, "Why did you lie?"
Sighing, Will shook his head, "It was Freddie Lounds," he said. That was all he needed to say, really. Hannibal eyes lit with understanding. Will jolted when Hannibal placed a warm hand on his shoulder.
"There is no need to feel guilty, Will," he said, "Miss Lounds may have occasionally had her uses, but she was a vile woman nonetheless."
Will pulled away from Hannibal's touch, a cold feeling sweeping through him.
"That's just it," he said, "I don't feel guilty…"
In the darkness, Hannibal's teeth flashed, but he said nothing and Will fought the urge to shudder.
Ahead of them, Clarice had stopped near the barn doors, "Shh!" she hissed over her shoulder, "I can see Dr. Reid inside. He's alive…"
Felix held on to Spencer's arms as the doctor pushed Verger onto the lift in the barn. It was large and wide open, the dirt floor strewn with hay and droppings. An unsteady looking wooden pen was directly beneath them as the lift moved up and Spencer tried not to look down, terror making him sick.
There were large pigs in the pen, squealing and rutting against the wood. They were fighting to push their way to freedom and Miguel was standing there holding a gun and a cattle prod to keep them from fighting too much.
Suddenly, Spencer's wrists were jerked backwards roughly and Felix was attaching something to the chain between his cuffs. He tensed and glanced over at Verger, who was watching the entire thing with that same disturbing gleam in his eyes.
"Why are you doing this?" he asked, hating that his voice cracked.
"You've seen what Dr. Lecter did to me, Dr. Reid," Verger said, "Surely you can understand my need to get revenge?"
Spencer grimaced as his arms were pulled even further back, his shoulders being painfully wrenched upwards and completely out of their sockets as the chain hooked to the handcuffs was lifted with a wench. He tried not to scream, but it felt like his arms had been ripped from his torso and when his feet left the ground he was left panting and fighting off stinging tears of pain.
It took several long seconds to regain the ability to see through the pain and when he did, he realized he was now being dangled over the pen with the pigs. His breathing sped up, his lungs pressing painfully against his ribcage. Every little movement sent new flashes of blinding pain through him and he tried his hardest to stay still as he looked at Verger with wide eyes.
"I am sorry you had to get caught in the middle of this all, Dr. Reid," Verger said, "If it's any conciliation, when Lecter surrenders I'll have Felix shoot you in the head. It will a quick death."
He wanted to tell him that he didn't want to die at all, fast or slow. But he found it increasingly difficult to speak through the pain. He could only make choking noises as he fought against the edges of black that was creeping into his vision.
"He should be here any moment now," Verger continued, "I'm sure you won't have to wait much longer."
A pained yell erupted from inside the barn, echoing loudly over the sounds of the pigs inside. Hannibal moved forward, but Clarice held a hand up, stopping him. She was only partly aware of how dangerous that move was.
"He's alive," she said, her hand on her gun. "It's alright."
Hannibal only barely contained his anger at Clarice and sent a dark look to the back of her head, but she didn't noticed and continued speaking.
"There are two men, plus Verger and his doctor. The men are armed. Dr. Reid's hanging in the air over…" she trailed off and stepped back, pale and wide eyed.
"Hanging over what?" Will pushed her out of the way to peer through the cracks in the boards. He saw Verger and his doctor on a platform lifted in the air near the rafters of the barn. One of Verger's men stood to the doctor's left and on the ground stood another one, pointing a gun at a pen. His eyes widened and he turned to face Hannibal.
"He's hanging over a pen of pigs."
Hannibal didn't noticeably react, but there was the faintest twitch to his lips and his pupils constricted slightly. It was enough to make Will nervous as he turned back toward Clarice, who was fishing her cell phone from her pocket.
"I'm calling Jack," she said.
Hannibal snatched her wrist before she could press a single button and he locked eyes with her.
"I don't think that was part of our agreement, Clarice."
Clarice met his stare, "There are two armed men in there and I'm the only one here with a weapon. We need backup. Or do you not want to get Dr. Reid out of here safely?"
"We can do so without the interference of Jack Crawford, I am sure," Hannibal said. His tone left no room for argument but Clarice didn't look away, instead jerking her hand from his grip and shaking her head.
"Then I'll call Agent Hotchner," she said, "I'm sure Dr. Reid's team would be more than willing to help us."
"You will call no one," he moved in close and Clarice found herself pressed against the side of the barn, staring up into the mesmerizing eyes of Hannibal Lecter. She felt a thrill of fear shoot through her, and then fingers trailed down her arm and lightly encircled her wrist.
"Just so we're clear, Dr. Lecter," she said, ignoring the way her voice quaked, "I don't intend on letting you escape again."
Hannibal smiled and before she realized it he had her cell phone in his hand and he moved away, throwing the phone to the ground and stomping on it.
"And I do not intend to make it that easy for you," he told her, "Now, do you wish to remain here and help or are you going to run off to call your so-called friends at the FBI?"
Clarice bit her lip and stared at her broken phone. Verger might get impatient if Lecter didn't show soon and Dr. Reid's life was in very real danger. Any time she wasted put him in more danger. But barreling in there without backup or a plan was stupid. Of course, she had been the one to decide to do this without calling anyone in the first place.
"Alright," she said, "we go in. But you stay back and do as I say, Doctor."
She held her gun down and close to her side, once again peering through the slats in the boards. Nothing had changed inside. Taking a deep breath she motioned for them to follow her as she headed toward the barn doors.
Will and Hannibal stood back as Clarice entered the barn alone. She had insisted that Hannibal showing his face would not make it easier for her to talk Verger down. Will knew that there wasn't going to be any talking Verger out of his revenge, but it was likely smarter to at least try and stop him before Hannibal showed up.
They could hear her as she stood with her gun aimed upwards toward the rafters, her voice carrying out into the cool night air.
"Agent Starling! What a surprise!"
"Mr. Verger," Clarice kept her voice even as she spoke, "let Dr. Reid down and tell these men to put down their guns. You're under arrest."
Verger laughed, or, at least he tried to laugh. It was an unpleasant sound that made Will think of sick puppies and dying people.
"Are you alone, Miss Starling?"
"It's Agent Starling and no," she said, "I called for backup outside. They'll be here any minute, Mr. Verger, now have your men put their guns on the ground and get Dr. Reid to safety."
"I don't believe you, Agent," Verger said. He sounded absolutely cheerful and it made Will's skin crawl. "If you have backup on the way why didn't you wait for them? Why are you here all alone? I thought you were not working this case."
Clarice's patience seemed to be wearing thin, "Mr. Verger, I am an agent in the Federal Bureau of Investigation and am I ordering you and your men to cease and desist. Put the guns on the ground. Now."
Will could imagine the hard look on her face as she spoke and he suddenly realized what it was about Clarice that Hannibal liked so much. All that determination and steel hiding behind her eyes must've been impossible for him to resist.
"You know, I really did like you, Agent Starling. I hope you won't take this personally. Felix, kill her."
Clarice's heart was pounding in her chest. Her palms were slick against her gun, but she gripped it tight and met Verger's one-eyed stare with a cold look of her own. Her voice projected through the barn and she tried very hard not to look toward the pen that was barely holding back the vicious pigs.
The man on the ground kept his gun and the cattle prod aimed toward them, but the man on the loft had his weapon pointed at her head. She shifted on her feet and her eyes darted from the man to Dr. Reid, who looked beyond words at that point, his face pinched and pale.
She heard Verger give the order to kill, but she reacted before she even finished processing what the words actually meant.
The man on the lift – Felix – moved to better aim, but she was faster. Her finger twitched against her trigger and suddenly her ears exploded with the sound of the shot. She didn't realize that she hadn't been hit until Felix collapsed and his gun clattered at his side on the metal surface of the lift.
Her breathing was coming quick. Her hands tingled as she stared with wide eyes at the spot where Felix had been standing. Thoughts came too fast for her to actually register them and then suddenly someone screamed and she became aware of the other man on the ground cursing at her in some foreign language her adrenaline soaked mind couldn't place.
She saw the gun. She reacted as quickly as she could, her entire body still vibrating with the force of the last blast. Her ears rang as another thunderous boom exploded and then another and it took her a very long second to remember she hadn't fired two shots.
Her hands felt numb. Her thoughts spun toward things that seemed unimportant and vitally important at the same time. Her shirt was wet. Her gun fell with a thud and she looked down to see a growing red pattern.
With wide eyes she pressed a hand to the red and pulled it away, staring at the sticky fluid that coated her fingers. She'd been shot. She blinked. Shouldn't it be hurting?
And then the pain hit her, like a ripping fire that shot right through her gut and her knees crumbled beneath her she realized she'd already screamed, because her throat felt raw, but she screamed again anyway because it hurt and she was dizzy and the barn was spinning, but she was supposed to be doing something important, she just couldn't remember what.
Then there was a voice, a familiar, wonderful voice that made her smile and she looked up and met a pair of dark eyes the same color as the blood that was sticky on her fingers and she smiled because he might not be human, but even Lucifer was an angel, right?
At the sound of the gunfire Will and Hannibal rushed into the barn, Hannibal in the lead. They entered with just enough time to see Clarice and the man who had been standing near the pig pen collapse on the ground. Clarice was clutching at her gun, the man lying dead a few yards away from her.
Hannibal was at her side, pushing her hair away from her face and talking to her in a quiet voice, trying to keep her conscious. Will snatched her gun from the dirt and looked up at Verger and his doctor.
"Oh, Dr. Lecter!" Verger called from above, a grin in his voice even if there wasn't one on his face. "It's been so long."
Will glanced back at Hannibal and saw his intense gaze focused on Verger. There was something inhuman about the way Hannibal looked in that moment. Will had always felt uneasy and often frightened in Hannibal's presence, but at that moment he felt downright terrified.
"Will, see to Clarice's wound," Hannibal stood and never took his eyes off Verger. Will hesitated, but went to the fallen woman's side, pulling off his jacket and balling it up to press against the bleeding wound in her gut. She was already pale and Will wasn't an expert, but if she didn't get to a doctor soon she wasn't going to make it.
"Mason," Hannibal greeted his former victim, his voice soft and congenial, clashing violently with his eyes. "It certainly has been a long time. I'm here now, though. Perhaps it would be better for everyone if you allowed William to take Clarice and Dr. Reid to the hospital. This does not have anything to do with them."
Mason's one good eye twinkled, "There are two problems with that argument, Doctor. One, if they leave I have no leverage. Two, if they leave I have witnesses. Neither of those things appeal to me.
"I'll make this very simple. You may switch places with your dear Dr. Reid, or I will drop him into the pen with the pigs and you can watch as he is ripped apart."
Spencer made a choking sound, but his eyes were unfocused. Will was pretty sure he wasn't going to be conscious much longer.
Hannibal seemed to consider that, studying Verger, who appeared slightly agitated, and his doctor, who was nearly hyperventilating as he stared at the scene before him. His hands were shaking and Will saw sweat shining on his brow. The man's fingers twitched against the handles of Verger's wheelchair. He looked like he was going to vomit.
Very slowly, Hannibal shook his head.
"I'm afraid that isn't very motivating, Mason. Are you certain you've thought this out very well. You're up there and your men are dead."
Mason frowned, "I'm up here and I have the controls for the wench holding Dr. Reid," he said, "I'll drop him."
"That would be unwise,"
He said it softly, but Will heard the undercurrent of threat there. He tried to focus on Clarice. Her bloody fingers were wrapped around his wrist and her skin was a horrible grey color.
"Hannibal," he said, "she's dying."
Hannibal barely spared a glance back before turning his attention back toward Verger and his doctor. Slowly, he smiled and tilted his head.
"I'm curious, Dr… Doemling, isn't it?"
The doctor made a noise somewhere between a gasp and a squeak and his head jerked in what may have been a nod.
Hannibal smiled, "Dr. Doemling, how exactly is it that you became a part of this scheme? It seems inevitable from where I'm standing that you are going to be caught… Two FBI agents injured. Agent Starling was not the only agent investigating Mason, you know."
Doemling stared at Hannibal, opening his mouth like he wanted to say something, but closing it again. He looked vaguely green.
In his arms, Clarice made a pained noise and shifted, blinking glassy eyes up at him.
"Hannibal," he said urgently, trying to hold her up. She needed medical attention.
"Don't listen to him, Cordell," Verger said, turning slightly toward his doctor. "Lower Dr. Reid into the pen."
Cordell hesitated as he moved toward the controls for the wench.
"Do you really want to do that, Doctor?" Hannibal asked. "Spencer Reid has never done anything to you. Or to anyone, for that matter. Why should you become a murderer for Mason Verger?"
Verger's voice was raised to a fever pitch and if he hadn't lacked adequate facial movement he would've been scowling.
"Don't listen to him!" Verger said, "Lower the cable!"
Hannibal's lips twitched and he met Doemling's eyes, "Or you could just… push him in," he said. Verger was having a fit in his chair.
"Cordell! Do it now!"
"It would be so easy," Hannibal said, "One little push. You could say it was me."
Slowly, Doemling moved back toward Verger's wheelchair. Verger was jerking in his chair, spewing at him to stop and lower the cable. "Cordell! Cordell!"
Doemling's hands were shaking so badly he had trouble gripping the handles of the chair. He looked down over the edge of the lift and back at Hannibal, who smiled easily at him. Swallowing, and ignoring Verger's screaming, he gave the chair one good push and watched with wide eyes as it toppled over and into the pen.
The pigs went wild. The sounds of squealing almost covered up the horrible, sick screams as the smell of blood grew even stronger in the barn.
Almost.
Still looking sick, Cordell Doemling only just managed to get Spencer back onto the lift before collapsing to his knees and puking over the edge of the lift. He left Spencer laying there as he climbed down and ran on shaky legs out of the barn. Hannibal didn't bother to go after him.
"Hannibal, her pulse is weak," Will said from the ground, "We need to call an ambulance. I don't think she's going to make it."
Hannibal turned toward him and knelt in the dirt. There was something so wrong with Hannibal Lecter getting his fancy suit dirty. He pulled Clarice back into his arms and removed Will's jacket, moving her shirt to get a better look at the wound.
"I'll tend to her. Go make sure that Spencer is alright."
Will stumbled to his feet and ran to Spencer. The younger man was barely conscious and his hands were still cuffed behind him. He groaned as Will tried to move him as gently as he could. His pain-glazed hazel eyes met Will's and he smiled at him faintly.
"Will…" he laid his head against Will and his eyes fluttered. "Where's Hannibal..?"
Will looked over to Hannibal, who was trying in vain to do what he could for Clarice. She was as good as dead.
"Taking care of Starling," he told him. "Can you walk?"
Spencer blinked and frowned, "Maybe… It hurts…"
"I know," Will helped Spencer to his feet. He was shaky, but at least he could stand. "Come on."
He led him toward Hannibal and Clarice. Hannibal was holding Clarice to him tightly, a strange look on his face. If Will hadn't known better he'd say it was remorse, but that couldn't be. Hannibal didn't feel remorse.
As they got closer, Hannibal looked up, his voice slightly choked as he stared at him.
"She's dead…"
Will looked down at her body and then over at Spencer. Verger was still screaming in the pen, but he tried not to listen to that.
Very gently, Hannibal lowered Clarice to the ground and stood.
"We've got to go," he said, "I'll take Spencer…" he held his arms out for Spencer, but Will didn't move to help Spencer shuffle toward him. He stared hard at Hannibal, some unplaceable feeling welling up inside of him.
"You know this is your fault," Will said quietly. "All of it. Clarice and Spencer would be fine if it weren't for you."
"Will," Hannibal frowned at him and Will let his arm drop from Spencer.
"I don't know why I didn't see it before…" Will's voice was soft as he stared at Hannibal and stepped closer toward him. "You twist things and people. I don't… I don't even know who I am anymore."
"Will," Spencer's voice was pained, "Will, he's right. We need to go."
Will glanced back at him and shook his head, looking back at Hannibal with a dark look in his eyes.
"I killed someone tonight. In cold blood. I don't know who you turned me into, Hannibal…"
Hannibal's warm hands, stained with Clarice's blood, rested heavily on his shoulders and he met Hannibal's gaze as the man stepped into his personal space.
"You are Will Graham," Hannibal said quietly, "You are you. I did nothing to you, Will."
Slowly, with more caution than Will had ever seen Hannibal use, the doctor leaned down slightly and pressed his lips to his gently. For a second, Will thought of all the other kisses they'd shared. Of all the times he had said he loved Hannibal and all the times he'd actually believed he did.
A hard lump filled in his throat and he remembered a conversation he'd had with Spencer in Florence. It seemed like a lifetime ago, but it stood out so clear in his mind.
In one swift movement his fingers wrapped around the handle of the knife he'd slipped from Clarice's belt. Tacky blood stuck his fingers to it and he shoved it forward and into Hannibal's gut.
Hannibal barely made a sound. One quiet, surprised gasp escaped his lips and he pulled away, meeting Will's eyes for the longest second. He reached up with his free hand and touched Will's hair, sticky with blood and sweat.
The saddest smile Will had ever seen twisted his lips.
"You are so beautiful…" he whispered.
Breathing hard, Will pulled away from him and stared with panicked eyes as Hannibal Lecter collapsed next to Clarice's still body. He was in a cocoon of numbness as he stared down at the two of them. A feeling like peace washed over him and it was the calmest Will Graham had felt in years.
Then the real world came crashing down around him and he heard Spencer's terrified voice cracking behind him.
"What did you do? Will, what did you do!?"
TBC