Hannibal woke to the sound of the bed shifting and he opened his eyes to see Walter pull from the bed and quietly leave the room. Will was still asleep, tangled in the sheets, one arm draped across the expanse of the bed, having been holding Walter through the night and Hannibal hoped it was enough. If not for their sake, then for the boy's.

Hannibal sat up in the chair he had occupied for the entirety of the night, back in pain from the odd angle and the discomfort of the wood frame. He stretched, spine cracking with his movements and he sighed, rubbing at his tired eyes. Will must have sensed that he was awake, Will often could, because he spoke in a soft tone still laced with sleep.

"Come here."

Hannibal closed his eyes for a moment before his body obeyed, pushing himself up onto legs that were weak from little blood flow. He straightened himself up a bit more before he moved to the side of the bed, sitting on it. Will hadn't moved, still on his stomach, back rising and falling steadily with a calm breath. Hannibal reached out his hand and let his fingers caress through Will's curls, unsure if this would be the last time he would have the chance to do so.

The last time the concept of death had frightened him had been years before. Not with a stab wound and a fever. Not in a bathroom or at a lighthouse. Not on a cliff side or on a pig farm. Not with a gun pointed at his head or with a noose around his neck and wrists slit. The last time that death had frightened him had been when his sister had gone missing and the overwhelming thought that he was next nearly suffocated him.

He could feel that same suffocation now. Somehow the room was growing thin in its air supply and his blood was beginning to run with more CO2 than he could process. It wasn't until Will's hand was cupping his cheek that he realized he was hyperventilating.

Those blue eyes held concern, but there was still an underlying determination in them. His mind was made up and Hannibal's promise held strong. He didn't need to be told this was it. He didn't need anything to say those words to him, he never had.

Will didn't say anything either. He didn't need to. His kiss said enough. A kiss that told Hannibal that everything would be ok, that he could finally rest because Will would take care of it, take care of him. Will would end this unholy battle they had spent the better part of the last five years fighting and that was calming in a sense.

Hannibal was guided gently back into the bed and Will climbed over the top of him, the kiss unbroken and he doubted it would be broken until his lungs stopped working. His fingers dug through Will's curls until Will's hands had finished unbuttoning his shirt to open it up. Will's hands circled around his wrists and his hands were pulled from Will's hair. Cinnamon hinted curls that he would so dearly miss.

Will's fingers were gentle as they traced over the deeply scarred flesh of an attempted proxy kill that had only pissed Hannibal off before Will brought him Randell Tier, spread out like a feast on his dining table. He had only fallen further for Will when he came home to that picture.

Fingers then pushed one of his hands over his head, the other still being caressed. Will's fingers were feather light up and over his left palm until fingers met the silver band that sat proudly on his finger and somehow that night felt so long ago, so distant in this moment.

Your thoughts are so loud, husband, Will's mind called into the space between them. Hannibal could hear the words as clear as day, ringing like crystal. You don't have to worry any longer. Your mind can relax now. I won't be long after you, my monster. I promise I'll follow.

His left hand was pressed above his head, crossed at the wrist with his right, Will's grip firm on them, but not threatening. Will's free hand dropped back to Hannibal's chest and his palm pressed tightly over his heart. Hannibal could feel it beat up into Will's hand as if begging to finally be held and stopped.

The weight shift was nearly unnoticeable, carefully calculated to be as hidden and unobtrusive as was possible. Will was fully settled over him now, weight pressed into Hannibal's wrists as Hannibal was ceaselessly kissed.

I love you, Hannibal.

And Will did. Hannibal could feel it being poured from the man in an overwhelming emotional waterfall. Something torturously pleasurable. Sinful and wicked. So deep and real it was consuming.

Hannibal's fingers flexed in the grip above him, but he wasn't attempting to get away, all he wanted to do was cling to the boy above him. The boy who was going to be his beginning and his end, his devil and his angel, his slayer and savior all in one and it was dizzying.

Will gently bore down on Hannibal's wrists, adding more weight into them, slowly restricting the circulation in them. Hannibal's eyes flickered open, and he was met with the beautifully flushed face of his husband whose focus was solely on him. Gorgeous in his brutality.

Hannibal would remember him like this. Hold this image of Will kissing him wholeheartedly deep inside of his subconscious until he couldn't hold to it anymore. It would be the last thing he would remember and he found himself fully accepting that fact. He let his eyes slip closed again and fell into the kisses still being pressed into his lips.

Like a caress, Hannibal felt Will's hand slide up his chest until Will's warm palm was over the front of his throat, fingers and thumb gently petting his skin before settling there, precisely over the two points of his arteries. Hannibal's breath caught before Will even had a chance to compress and cut off the oxygen supply to his brain, palm resting over his trachea and larynx that would be so easy to crush.

Shhh, my monster, Will's words whispered through him from lips still pressed firmly against his own. This is my design. Love it as you love all of me.

Hannibal let those words soothe him, wrap him in a burning heat, something so intimate in allowing Will this moment. Yet, questions ran through his mind. A million questions and he desperately needed the answers before the end did come. He had to know and maybe it truly didn't matter, but for some reason, it meant the world to Hannibal that he would be permitted into Will's thought process once more.

When I'm gone, what are you going to do, my love? He let the words seep into the universe and just as he had thought they would be, his beloved snatched them up and answered back.

I will lay beside you, hand in hand and put the barrel of my gun in my mouth. The sound will give Margot and Alana enough time to settle the boys so they won't be the ones to find us.

And where is your gun, Will? Where did you hide it?

Walter had said that he couldn't find it when he had been looking for Will's hunting knife. Will must have known that someone would look for it, maybe thought that Hannibal would look for it in a chance to save both their lives, breaking his own promise.

Some mysteries are better left unsolved, Hannibal.

You're a cunning boy, aren't you, mylimas?

I hope I'm still precious after all of this.

Infinitely so.

Will settled his full body weight over Hannibal and his grip tightened with purpose, both hands on wrists and throat and a soft choking noise caught in Hannibal's throat. He could still breathe, though it was more difficult now. Only his ability to speak would be gone, something frighteningly tender in how Will restrained himself from crushing Hannibal's windpipes all in one go.

Will wouldn't do that. He would draw this out, make this last. Their last few moments together were going to be the longest that Hannibal had ever lived through and he found himself welcoming the idea, slowly falling into it.

Hannibal tugged naturally at his wrists in Will's unrelenting grip. His mind might have been accepting, but his body would be anything but. His mind knew it was too little too late, but his body arched, trying to remove Will from over the top of him. His throat muscles twitched against Will's fingers as he tried to swallow in vain and more choking noises came between kisses from Will.

He could feel the heat rising to his cheeks as he gasped in the sparse air that was still granted to him. There was pain in the pressure now and he could feel his own heart beating against Will's palm and hear it in his ears.

Focus on me, Hannibal. Don't focus on the hurt.

He had never wanted to bow to Will's instructions so completely before, but even as he tried to lean himself into the kind and gentle kisses his husband gave him, the burning in his chest was overwhelming and set fire to a pounding in his head that made him think of getting his head smashed in with a crowbar.

Will applied a more precise force to Hannibal's neck with his thumb and fingers, cutting off Hannibal's air completely. Hannibal willed his body to still, to obey him as it always had, but his eyes flickered open with a renewed panic that prickled through his body.

His pulse ticked up a few beats faster, desperately trying to provide oxygen that he could no longer suck in. His body jerked a bit more violently than before, teeth clenched and legs trying to obtain leverage, but his feet only slipped in the sheets on the bed. It was futile. No sounds aside from his strained choking noises slipped past his lips when Will broke the kiss momentarily for a new angle before kisses were pressed back against him.

Every muscle in his body tensed and he was certain that if he could breathe, he would smell his own fear thick in the room. The idea was surprisingly gratifying and he was curious what his own fear would smell like. Would it be acidic like Will's or metallic like Margot's? Sickly sweet like Alana's or hot and bitter like Walter's? Maybe muted and citrusy like Morgan's?

Hannibal desperately tried to hold on, keep a careful mind on his husband's touches, but it was difficult when his medical mind was running a mile a minute, calculating just how much more time he had left before the inevitable. He knew what he must look like. His eyes would be wide open and bloodshot now, his lips off red, slowly becoming ashen as they twitched uselessly between noises and failing gasps for air.

His body was losing its tension, adams apple shifting less, struggles to breathe coming in fewer spurts as resignation set in.

Will's hand had tightened significantly and Hannibal's vision was going fuzzy, eyes half closed and not far from rolling back. His eyelids fluttered and the heat was finally leaving his cheeks, leaving him grey.

Hannibal could feel the phantomness of surprise at his own awareness when Will released his wrists, Will's fingers sinking into his hair. And finally his body obeyed him, finally relaxed instead of fought. His movements were sluggish as he weakly placed his hands to either side of Will's face, caressing softly, struggling to keep them there as a peacefulness incased his mind.

I love you, Hannibal.

Hannibal's fingers twitched and then dropped down to the wrist around his throat, though he didn't push or pull, just let his fingers relax into Will's steady and calm pulse as whiteness enclosed his vision.

Will could still let go. There was still time. There was another minute before full unconsciousness and at least another minute or two before his brain functions would fail and death would finally claim him. Hannibal was curious if Will would let his own compassion inconvenience him as Hannibal's had done so often before, but it was swiftly answered when Will's other hand added a new pressure to the first.

Cunning boy, was Hannibal's final thought before everything went delightfully blank.

He wasn't sure if shock was the right word. Shock was definitely present in his system, but not at what he was seeing. More in what his body was doing.

In his hands was clutched a heavy and thick book, one that he had stolen from Morgan earlier at breakfast when Alana asked him to remove the book from the breakfast table and Walter assumed that maybe fate had made Morgan read this particularly heavy book on this particular day. A day where he would, without any real reason as to why, use said book to protect a serial killer.

The spine chilling choking sounds had finally come to a stop from the man under Will and time crept by like years as Walter stepped closer to the bed, the book raised over his head. Seasons of playing baseball would finally mean something more than just trying to fit in with a crowd of kids that didn't like him.

He swung the book at the back of Will's head as hard as he could, the jolt through his arms at the contact was unreal and frightening. There was a groan from Will and he fell forward, over the top of the doctor.

Walter blinked, the book dropping from his hands with a thunderous thud as it hit the floor and he stumbled back with wide eyes and uneven breathing as Hannibal gasped, coughing and sputtering.

Walter fell into the chair that was beside the bed, hands trembling as he watched Hannibal weakly push Will's dead weight from over the top of him and onto the bed beside him. Walter glanced over Hannibal, taking in the man's bruising neck and slowly recoloring cheeks. The man's fingers shook as he checked over his throat, continuing to cough and gasp.

Walter could hear the clock on the wall ticking down the time, echoing through his skull, but it felt distorted like a truck stop in the middle of the night, like he wasn't supposed to be there. Or maybe it was his heart beating in his ears. Whatever it was, it was loud and hollow.

Walter tipped his head as the older man got himself under control before sitting up to check over Will. His pulse was taken and then fingers slid to the back of Will's head to take in the damage.

"He-" Hannibal cleared his throat, the word sounding as if he had been swallowing gravel. There was a hiss of pain and another throat clearing. "He'll be alright."

Walter nodded numbly, hands no longer trembling. He wasn't sure if the assessment was a relief or not. He wasn't truly sure what to make of his dad any longer. The same man that had taken him fishing and played catch with him and the dogs in the yard was not the same man who lay unconscious now.

You never really knew me, Molly. We both know exactly what our relationship was and we were too stubborn to say anything about it. I was a stand in for Walter's father and you were a stand in for Hannibal. We never really loved each other, we were just two broken people who tried to use each other to fix ourselves.

Maybe Will had been right. Maybe Walter never truly knew his dad. Maybe their relation was nothing more than a façade, a stand in for what might have been. But Walter didn't believe that. He didn't want to think that were the case. He really did feel like Will was a dad for him and maybe that's why he still felt so numb after watching a cruelness that he hadn't known was there, manifest itself in his dad.

"Leave," Walter said, voice far stronger than he thought it would be. He wasn't sure where the word came from, but it held firm and Hannibal gave a curious look. He shook his head and Walter could feel a frown cover his face. "Leave now, Hannibal."

"Walter-"

"Now."

Walter stood from his chair and stared down Hannibal who had finally begun breathing steadily again. The bruising was beginning to darken under the angry red from Will's tight grip and there were tear tracks down the man's cheeks.

Walter inhaled deeply and folded his arms over his chest, waiting.

Hannibal was the common denominator here. Hannibal was what had torn his world in half before Walter even knew it was. Hannibal, while he didn't physically do it, aided in his mother's death. He ripped apart a marriage that could have truly been something great. He twisted his dad's mind until Will was this monster. Hannibal was at the center. He was the root of all of their problems, so it only stood to reason that if Walter could separate the man from both Will and him, then their problems would stop. It wouldn't be perfect and it wouldn't be an overnight fix, but things would get better. Walter would see to it.

Hannibal rose shakily to his feet with another cough and rebuttoned his shirt with unsteady fingers. The bruising was covered up, but still lightly peaked out from under Hannibal's collar. He cleared his throat once more, fixing his hair before heading for the door.

He stopped and Walter bit his tongue as the man turned back to look over the boy beside the bed and the unconscious man in the bed. His eyes looked over the mess that was there, that he was leaving. He exhaled deeply and his fingers were once more at his throat.

"I said leave," Walter hissed. He knew he didn't have a chance if Hannibal decided to do something to him. There was no way he could fight off a man that much taller and strong than him, but he would fucking try. His eyes glanced back over Will who was still pale and sick looking, but something under the mattress caught his eye. Just barely a disturbance in the edge of it. When he looked back up, Hannibal hadn't moved an inch, eyes tight on him. "I mean it."

"Walter, your dad-"

"I will take care of him," Walter interrupted sharply. Maybe with Hannibal gone Will could be better. Maybe Will could be the way he was when they were a happy family. Before the man that came after them. "I've always been there for him and it won't change now."

"Your loyalty is admirable."

"Get out, Hannibal."

But Hannibal didn't listen. When would the man ever listen? The man was the devil himself and would do just as he pleased. Walter moved as quickly as he could and reached under the mattress to find the cold harshness of the gun he hadn't been able to find the night before. He pulled it free and with both hands to hold it steady, aimed it in Hannibal's direction. There was something amused that settled into those red eyes that made Walter change the weight on his feet.

"Do you know how to use one of those?" Hannibal asked back in a cool voice, or as cool as his aching throat would allow.

Walter hoped his actions would speak for themselves, but his hands were trembling so badly he was sure that he looked weak and helpless. He used one of his hands to jankily pull the slide back and his hands shook with the effort before it finally clicked and was quickly aimed back at Hannibal, finger on the trigger.

"My dad taught me."

Hannibal's amusement didn't wane, but he gave an accepting nod. "I can see that."

"Leave Hannibal. Stay away from us."

"And if I-"

There was a crack as the gun went off in Walter's grip and he jumped with the force of it in his hand. His ears rang with the noise and there was a sharp and pulsing pain in his hand that had been cut the night before. When he opened his eyes again, there was a hole in the wall beside Hannibal's head. Walter blinked several times and it took a moment for him to find himself and aim the gun again, the grip less firm as his finger cried in anger.

"I won't miss next time," he hissed out.

"That was quite impressive, Walter," Hannibal acknowledged, voice still ragged. "There's just a matter that I need to settle with you before I depart and I would appreciate it if we conducted ourselves like civilized adults."

Walter's eyes narrowed and his nose scrunched up. "What?" he asked back in a low voice. He didn't have time for this. Margot or Alana would be coming to see what the sound was that crackled through the house.

"What happens to me when I leave here, Walter? What awaits me? What stories are going to come from your lips?"

Walter was silent for a moment. He could tell someone, anyone what he was going through, but no one would believe him. And that would only be if he could get away and find someone not in Hannibal's back pocket. Alana and Margot were trapped there along with Will and the FBI might as well have been his personal bitch with how much they aided him. There was truly nothing he could do that wouldn't label him as insane and land him in a hospital to be looked over by doctors for the rest of his days.

He could go after Hannibal though. If he truly felt the need. He was certain he could do it. Granted, he would need to wait a few more years until he could make his own money and he needed to train to be better with weapons than he currently was, but that was definitely a direction he could take.

"I'm not going to find you," Walter answered finally after a moment. "I'm not going to look for you. I don't want to know where you are or what you do. I don't want to think about you anymore."

Something flickered across those maroon eyes that Walter couldn't exactly place. Nothing else was said. Nothing else needed to be said. It was enough for the both of them. Hannibal simply gave Walter a small nod and finally left the room, closing the door behind him.

Walter stayed rigid in his stance, unable to loosen until the door opened and Alana rushed in. She paused as she took in the scene before stepping over to Walter. She dropped to her knees beside the boy, but he didn't pay her any mind.

"Wally, give me the gun," she commanded gently in a whisper. Walter couldn't bring himself to move, couldn't unhinge his joints or loosen his muscles. The gun was worked from his hands and upon its rescue, he tumbled to the floor, releasing a deep breath he didn't know he had been holding. "Are you alright?"

"Is my dad?" Walter asked, uncertain why his concern over his father was still so strong. Unsure why a monster draped in a black plumage like a raven with antlers that scraped the ceiling and spread out like growing tree branches was now laying so utterly human like in this bed without a mark on him.

"I'm sure he's fine," Alana muttered, blue eyes flicking carefully over the boy on the floor. "I'm more concerned over you."

"Where's Morgan?" Walter pushed himself to his feet in a blind rush, an urge to hide away. Alana's hands reached out to him, but he pulled from them before they could catch him and he ran. Ran as fast as he could from the bedroom and back towards the dining room where the boy had last been. He pushed open the double doors and came face to face with a concerned looking Margot and a happily distracted looking Morgan who had a new book in his lap and a slice of buttered toast in his hand. "Morgan, let's go look at the horses," he gasped out, unsure if he could breathe correctly.

The boy looked up from his book with a smile, both toast and book hastily set aside. He lowered himself from the tall chair with a bit of Margot's help and raced over to Walter's side. "Ok," he said excitedly. "Can we take Applesauce?"

"Yeah, sure," Walter answered absently with a nod. "Go get Applesauce."

"Ok!"

Morgan tried to race from the room, but Margot's hand caught his shoulder and she lowered herself to her knees, her other hand taking Walter's. Her own pair of blue eyes leveled over him for a moment and he licked his lips just wishing to be let go, no longer wanting to be trapped like a fish in a net.

"Where is Hannibal, Wally?" she asked softly.

"Gone," Walter said with a firm nod. He glanced over at Morgan who had his head tipped in confusion.

"You didn't-"

"No," Walter quickly answered before the rest of the question could be put out in the open. "I didn't do anything."

Margot nodded softly, eyes flickering up to the door behind Walter and Walter glanced over his shoulder to find Alana in the doorway with her hands on her hips where they naturally seemed to like to rest.

"Go see the horses, boys," Margot instructed and Walter nodded with relief. "Go on."

Margot watched as Walter snatched up Morgan's hand and tugged him from the room at a pace that had the younger boy stumbling to keep up. Once they were gone, she rose back to her feet and sighed, looking up at her wife who was silent, face lost in thought as it so often was.

"Where is he?" Margot asked, folding her arms over her chest and making her way over to Alana. Alana's lips pursed and she shook her head with a small shrug. "You don't know?"

"The car is gone," Alana replied with a deep breath, something weak in her normally strong stance. "I hope he doesn't come back."

"They left Walter?"

Alana shook her head. "Will's in the bedroom. From what I gathered, one of them hit him with Morgan's book. He's alright. He'll wake up in a bit."

"And the gunshot?" Margot didn't miss the small tip upwards in Alana's red lips that quickly thinned out again.

"Walter shot the gun. Must have been aiming at Hannibal." There was a hint of mirth in her eyes. Margot nodded, but Alana's expression did nothing so soften the worry that was sitting in her gut like a rock. "What do we do with them?"

Margot closed her eyes and rubbed at them with her thumb and forefinger for a moment. "I haven't a clue. Everything that we've been working with Jack on doesn't matter anymore. The whole point was for them to be able to leave us alone, but with them split up, who knows what they're going to plan to do."

"You believe Will would do something-"

"Of course I do," Margot whispered exasperatedly, shocked that Alana would even consider Will as some innocent bystander in all of this. "You know exactly what he did before we took care of Mason. You know what he was planning when you all faked Hannibal's escape. You can't tell me you honestly thought Will would go through with the plan, can you?"

Alana shook her head. "I was hopeful, I still am hopeful. He is a good man."

"He was a good man," Margot corrected. "He's just as twisted as Hannibal now. You don't know what it's like to have him in your head like we did. He just led you on with fluffy romance nonsense while Will and I had death beat into us. It was all I could eat, sleep and breathe until Mason was finally gone. I can't begin to imagine what Will's had shoved down his throat."

Alana gave a sympathetic look and her hands took Margot's arms, caressing them softly. "We'll make plans to leave," she said with a kind smile. "New identities, new lives, new country. As soon as we can get Will and-"

"Just Will," Margot interrupted. Alana's eyes widened in confusion and she fell silent. "Will is leaving and we're going to take care of Walter."

"Margot, we can't just-"

"Yes we can," Margot insisted.

"Will would hunt us down to get his son back. We can't risk that. Not when Hannibal already has a death wish for us," Alana hissed. "There is no way we are taking Walter with us. The whole point is to protect our son, Margot! Our son is who will suffer if we bring Walter with us." Alana leaned her head forward and sighed. "I don't care if we died right now, but nothing is going to touch Morgan. Taking Walter with us would get us all-"

"Will wouldn't touch Morgan," Margot defended. "He's fucked up, but he would never hurt a child. I should know."

Alana glanced up, lips slightly parted at the pull of a memory. Of Margot explaining why she had an unsightly scar across her stomach. Explaining how she had Will's baby in her until Mason ripped it away. How, despite how upset Will was, he had offered to be there for the child. Had offered any sort of help that Margot could need. Margot was right, but that did nothing to comfort Alana. Not when it came to their child.

"If Will won't hurt Morgan, then why are we taking Walter with us?" Alana challenged, uneasiness in her bones. Her eyes flickered behind Margot and out the back porch window where the two boys were with the dog chasing after them.

"You want Walter to grow up with a father like Will?" Margot sighed. "You don't think that Will would have some effect on the kid? He already just accepted Hannibal into his life without question. What child does that?"

Alana licked her lips. "Why is sending him away with Will now any different from sending him away with the two of them yesterday?"

Margot fell silent and pulled from Alana's grip, turning away from Alana and leaving Alana standing confused. Margot's heels clicked on the floor as she made her way over to the porch window. A small smile pulled at her lips as he looked over the two boys and the dog in the yard, the horses probably forgotten.

Alana followed after her, and sighed when she watched the children playing. She didn't like Walter much, if she were being honest with herself. She wasn't sure what Margot or Morgan saw in the kid. He was cold, dark, cruel. He was unkind to her son who trailed after him like a sunflower does the sun. He was sharp and blatant with Margot who smiled at him like he were her own child. He was inhumanly savage towards her. It would be a struggle to take him with them. He would resent them, fight them. He had behaved thus far due to Will's explicit instruction but without Will there, there would be no restraint of the boy. He was devoted to Will to a fault.

"At dinner last night," Margot finally said, calling Alana's attention from the boys outside and to her. "Hannibal said that they had come to a mutual conclusion of their relationship and he mentioned Will's condition. I'm assuming Will remembered. You said that he becomes violent when he remembers."

"Yes." Alana nodded. "The journal said that Will would attack Hannibal if he remembered."

"Will kept saying that he wanted the two of them dead and they asked us to look after Walter if something happened to the two of them."

Alana was silent as she let the information set in. She nodded. As much as she didn't like the child, his fate was not one she could leave up to Will or Hannibal. They had to step in and protect the child. Alana sighed.

"I'll make some calls," she announced, causing Margot to turn around to fully meet her gaze. "We'll leave as soon as time permits. Make sure both the boys are ready to go in short notice."

"I'll miss it here."

Alana sighed with a small nod. "We'll have each other and that's all that matters."