Hello you lovely Hannibal fans ;)
I recently binged watched the three seasons for a third time, and as expected fell in love all over again. I shouldn't have started a new fic because I still have a long way with my HP one, but I couldn't fight the temptation.
No worries though, both stories are already mapped out, this one will be exponentially shorter, so it's going to be easier to update. For those following my HP fic, don't worry, it needs more polishing and sometimes I get stuck in my own head, but you will have updates.
Now that being said, I hope you enjoy.
They lived.
It still surprised him sometimes, waking up surrounded by Hannibal's scent, opening his eyes to him laying beside him, trusting, so very close.
They had painted each other's skin in scars, while their minds inched closer each time, a part of him was aware though, a part of him he could only recognize now for it was bright and clear.
He never believed he made a mistake by throwing them off a cliff, it was his last attempt at conserving the ideal image he so desperately wanted to reach and strayed so far from.
It was his last ounce of fight, the last thrashing of a dying animal, and Hannibal never punished him for it.
He wouldn't see fault in it, the shedding of the last layer of skin that separated them was to be celebrated, and boy did they celebrate.
By the time the Great Red Dragon was declared missing again, he was nothing but an empty carcass. Slayed and consumed in his entirety, his few remains buried deep in the ground. A harsh goodbye to a life left behind, there was no going back after that. No Jack Crawford to make proud, no Alana Bloom to protect, no Molly and hunter to go back to, No Abigail.
There was only Hannibal.
Chiyo pulled them out of the water, she was nearby, always a phone call away. He should have seen it but he didn't, her life was Hannibal, her love was Hannibal, perhaps more muted, subtle even, but as real as the sun. She remained until they healed and then left, there was too much contempt between them to remain civil forever.
Her love for Hannibal was protective, and the only form of love she had seen him show Hannibal was on his skin. He couldn't exactly blame her.
He moved slowly so as to not wake him and went to the kitchen to start breakfast. It was rare for Hannibal to stay in bed and he made sure to let him sleep in, everytime the chance came.
"It smells divine Will, so far from the simple fried eggs you used to make." Said Hannibal as he took the plate from his hand, to place it on the table.
He chuckled, "what did you call them?, Ah... Lifeless eggs."
He turned to put the rest of the food on the table and sat as Hannibal went through the news.
It baffled him at times the normality of their days, considering the savagery within, a contrast that still rattled him. In those days Hannibal knew not to push, he had to give it to him, he knew him better than he knew himself. He made sure physical contact was few, made sure to sirve regular meat, and made sure they went hunting.
He called it a Ghost image, like the pain coming from a limb long gone, it still Disturbed him, this new self, this version of him that brewed itself out of his control and grew and grew until he couldn't ignore it anymore. His old self didn't vanish into nothingness, it evolved, and there was still the memory of what he was, an imprint that would probably fade in time.
Perhaps it would take more than three years, they'd be reaching the date in a few months and he couldn't fathom much change by then.
Hannibal made a slight noise of interest as he turned the tablet to him, showing him an article. He frowned as the picture caught his attention.
The letters on the wall were not drawn but pinned, red and bloody, he really thought it was blood at first but then his eyes focused.
They were intestines, forming the word 'bully'.
The picture reminded him of a certain redhead with a surprising lack of manners, he couldn't fathom the idea of a legitimate Newspaper showing the decorative innards of a murder victim.
"He's punishing them", he said, taking a sip of coffee.
"Showing the World what they're made of, quiet literally." Finished Hannibal with a smile.
"This is new. Spain is not exactly a nest of psychopaths... People here are pretty chill, nothing quiet so flashy." He answered, removing the thing from sight.
"Do you miss it? The thrill of catching the bad guy."
"Killing them felt greater", he said, sending him a smirk, as he moved back to the kitchen.
He felt his big hand on his neck, possessive as he whispered. "Perhaps we should hunt a bad guy this time, ... for old times sake."
He turned aided by his warm touch and placed his chin on his chest.
"I'm in...", He whispered wickedly.