Losing You Terrifies Me

by A. David

Gentle. That was the word the monster had used. Will would hold onto that word as if it were the only thing in the universe. Because it was gentle. Each skim of lips and trace of tongue, each brush of fingers and dip of hips were nothing but gently maddening, sending Will so far into himself that he thought he would never be found again.

45. Chapter 45

"You've been awfully quiet," a light voice commented, pulling Will's attention from Hannibal's work. Hannibal had been gone for several hours and Will was curious if the man had returned to the castle for something or other or maybe wandered into the nearby town for more supplies. "Haven't spoken to me in so long."

"Abigail," Will sighed, turning away from the fully built structure. He leaned his back up against the tree he had been hiding behind for hours at a time and looked over the girl who was once more dressed rather inappropriately for the weather. Always barefoot, but this time in overall shorts with a forest green t-shirt beneath it. "Forgive me."

She pursed her lips, hands clasping behind her back and she shook her head, glancing around the forest. "So this is where it all started, huh?" she asked without missing a beat and throwing Will for a small loop. "Where all of our beginnings and ends came from."

Will glanced back over his shoulder and to the castle in the distance that was still dark and gloomy, especially against the greying sky. The tallest tower seemed to stab at the clouds with its spiky spires.

"Yes."

"I thought it would look more... Cheerful," she muttered, head tipping to the side as she followed Will's gaze. "You'd think a castle would be more magical. Especially a palace where children grew up."

"Dark magic is more like it."

"Do you think he would have turned out the same?"

Will turned back at the question and rested his head back against the tree trunk with a deep breath. "I don't have the faintest."

"Curious if we would have met all the same. Maybe in a different world you both still would have saved me, but..." Abigail shrugged, attention turning back to Will, her dark brown curls bouncing with the movement. "There's no use thinking about what ifs and could have beens, is there?"

"No," Will agreed softly. "I suppose not."

"Dad, what do you suppose is going to happen to me?"

"To you?" Will ran a hand through his curls with a deep breath and then rubbed at his tired eyes. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you're going to forget about me, aren't you?" She stepped forward in the same childlike stance she had been using since the first time she had appeared to Will. Shoulders swaying back and forth like in a dance while her feet went toe first like a ballerina. "You'll take Hannibal back with you and be with Walter and I won't matter anymore."

"Of course you'll matter," Will argued sharply, only to receive a sad little side smile from the teen.

"No I won't. You'll forget all about me and move on."

"How could I possibly forget you Abigail?" Will pushed himself off the tree and moved over to the girl, reaching out to take her cheek in his hand. Her insanely blue eyes met his, wet with tears. "I will never forget you."

"It's ok if you do." She shrugged all while leaning into his palm. "I would understand."

"I won't forget you," Will repeated firmly, thumb brushing over her cheek. "You will always be special to Hannibal and me. Nothing will ever change that."

"But..." Abigail pressed, that sad smile only growing. "It is time for all of us to move on. You can't keep holding onto me. It isn't right, Dad, and you know it."

Will licked at his lips with a nod, but couldn't bring himself to say anything. His hand dropped back to his side as she pulled from his grip to move closer to the edge of the hill overlooking the tomb.

"My parents are waiting for me anyways."

"Your mother and father," Will supplied, causing Abigail to nod.

"Yep. But you'll be ok. You have your own family to take care of now. You don't need me."

"Abigail, I-"

"It's ok, Dad. You can let me go, just like you've let everyone else go. It's time."

Will inhaled with a nod and looked down at his shoes. "You'll be alright?"

"Of course I will."

"I'm sorry I wasn't there for you like I should have been."

"Thanks Will."

---

Night fell far more swiftly than Will had thought it would and he found himself sitting at his campfire once again, another can of food in his hand that he dug through with a spoon. For the first time in a long, long time, ever since his wife had died, his mind was silent.

It was an eerie sort of quiet that came with an abandoned building. The same uneasy stillness that Will had felt on stakeouts where he was meant to sit hidden away for hours at a time waiting for something to happen. The kenopsia that came when one had to stop at a rest stop on the highway in the middle of the night. His head tipped at the epiphany. He had thought that with the people put to rest that a sweet quiet would envelop him and that he could once more have his mind to himself, but it was unsettling.

He wished there was a way to put a name to it, to describe exactly what it was that made his teeth clench and his hair stand on end. He wished he understood why his muscles were tense and his gut was unsettled.

It wasn't until he let his fire dwindle away into nothing and the nightlife came more to life around him that he finally got his answer. It wasn't that he was alone. It had never been that he was alone. Even with his mind quieted, he wasn't alone. Hadn't been the whole time, if he had been honest with himself. He had known it deep down in his bones. Something that had been nagging at him, but he had pushed it aside because it had been the same feeling he had the first time he had come to this place. A feeling of being watched and not alone.

It had been Chiyoh the first time. Both of them watching each other. She wasn't here as far as he knew. Now that he thought about it, he didn't know what had happened to her after being shot. He hoped she was well. He was certain that Hannibal would have taken care of her in any capacity that she needed. He hoped that now she was free to do what she needed to do, be who she wanted to be.

Hannibal hadn't been watching him. Will had lived with those hungry lion-like eyes on him for years. He knew what it felt like to have a cannibal look at him, stare at him, devour him with a simple look. Even when he couldn't remember the man's name, he would have known if the man were staring at him. Hannibal wasn't in the woods with him.

The sound of a branch snapping sent Will to his knees and he pulled his gun from where it sat on his hip in its holster. He checked the magazine to make sure it was loaded and shoved it back into the holder before cocking the gun.

His eyes darted around the dark, the trees nearly blending into the night. The only light he had was from the moon that was barely a crescent in the sky and was hidden behind large storm clouds that didn't lend him much to work with.

He held his breath as he waited for another form of movement. Any hint of something else in the woods with him. Something different than an animal. He had hunted those with his father. He knew exactly what it felt like to have something bigger than you stare you down. This wasn't that feeling either.

A hushed whisper caught Will's attention and he rose to his feet, turning towards the voice. Will couldn't make out the words being said and he wasn't sure if maybe the low voices had turned the words to a muffled mess or if they were really in a different language, but that didn't matter.

Thunder rolled and cut off the voices, but Will started off in the direction that they had come from. Through tree after tree with his gun held in front of in and down, ready to be lifted and aimed at a moment's notice in whatever direction he needed it to be.

Will came to a stop behind the tree that he had been using the last while to hide behind and watch Hannibal work. Will glanced around its large trunk to see, curiously enough, Hannibal. Will had watched the man return to Chiyoh's quarters and get ready for bed like he had every night and then had returned to his own camp.

Maybe it had been Hannibal that he had heard speaking. Hannibal had begun a habit of speaking to himself while he worked, but that didn't seem like the right explanation either. Hannibal was coming from a completely different direction. Coming from the other end of the family plot where a much smaller gravestone for Mischa had been.

Being carried respectfully in both of Hannibal's arms was a large box shaped object and it took a moment for Will to finally make out the correct shape in the dark of the night. A casket. Mischa. Or whatever had been left of Mischa. By the looks of the box, it didn't seem quite big enough for a young child, but it was also bigger than an urn or a newborn's casket.

Will's stomach churned at the idea that Mischa was merely scattered body parts in the casket. That maybe parts of her were missing. He had never considered the idea. He knew that she had been eaten, but he had never given thought to what parts of her might have been taken and used. If her body was hacked up in an attempt to eat or if she had been handled with a bit more respect.

Will's heart sank at the idea of Hannibal finding his sister's body. Having to leave it behind while he ran or maybe he hadn't seen it until he had come back as a teenager to bury her. Maybe Hannibal had been spared the trauma of seeing his sister cut to parts and pieces and hopefully all that was left were the bones of the girl. Or... Will hadn't even considered what the wild animals might have done to her body if Hannibal really had had to wait until he was older to find her.

So many questions swirled through his head, but he didn't dare give them a voice. Hannibal would tell him if Hannibal wanted to and Will wasn't about to use his empathy to dig into it further than he already had. Stepping into the cabin had been more than enough for a day. The fear that oozed through the walls and the stench of cooked flesh that clung to the air, though it hadn't been there in years.

Will shook his head to push the memory he didn't have permission to explore from his head and focused back on his husband who had disappeared into the beautifully made stone tomb. A whole altar just for his dear sister. A proper place for her to rest exactly as she deserved.

If there was one part of Hannibal that Will could accept wholly without fight, it was the man's deep love for Mischa. She was all he had in the darkest points of his life and Will didn't dare tread on those moments or the comfort they brought Hannibal. Mischa was now as sacred for Will as she was to Hannibal and nothing would ever change that. If someone had been wonderful enough to shape Hannibal into the man that Will loved, then she would be cherished.

Will's head snapped up at a rustle of brush on the hillside and he ducked back behind the tree, listening while willing his heart to slow. The rustling stopped as if cut dead and Will's brows furrowed as he once more glanced around the tree. Down below, not noticing in the slightest, Hannibal exited the large stone structure and went back in the direction of where Mischa's old grave was located.

As soon as Hannibal was out of sight, swallowed up by the dark, the rustling started again. It was so loud that Will wondered how Hannibal hadn't noticed it. Maybe Hannibal had and just hadn't cared to do anything about it. Will clearly remembered that Hannibal's home back in Baltimore didn't even contain a security system, which was how Beverly had been so easily able to slip into his home.

Hannibal had never been too horribly concerned with the monsters out in the world and Will didn't see that changing any time soon. Hannibal was among the top of them, but that didn't mean that he had to be stupid about it. He should have at least been vigilant. Or maybe Will had it all backwards. Maybe Hannibal had it all under control and Will just needed to relax.

Will glanced back around the tree when the rustling distanced itself from him and blinked through the dark to see what it was. It wasn't until a flash of lightning lit up the night sky that Will made out the shape of four men. Large men, larger than Will, stalking their way to the open tomb that Hannibal had vacated.

Will's heart jumped into his throat at the figure of Hannibal on the horizon, but he didn't dare move. His feet were cemented in place as he watched his husband make his way back into that tomb that he had hand built for his sister with a shovel in hand.

The world around Will fell silent as the scent of inorganic burning, like wires or plastic, filled in around him. The only sound was the rumbling thunder as the moments ticked on. Tick, Tick, Tick.

Rain began to patter down and over the empath until his curls clung to his face and his clothes began to stick to his body. The lump in his throat only seemed to grow when no one and nothing stepped out of that grave. He had no indication of who had come out on top or if there was anything left in that tomb. No lights, no noise, no people.

With heavy feet, Will pushed himself from behind the tree and made his way down the hill that was now muddy and slick with the falling rain that was beginning to come down in sheets. He wasn't ready yet. He couldn't face Hannibal yet. There was a reason that Will had stayed on the very outskirts of Hannibal's life for the last handful of days. He wasn't ready to face that man who he had tried to kill a multitude of times over and admit to him that he had been right all along.

Will's insides twisted as the monster tugged at the chains that he had put it in. Chains that had been made of impenetrable steel that had become to rust and crack the moment he had met another monster that was free, but trained to behave. How jealous he had been of that freedom. How jealous he had been of the collected coolness of Doctor Hannibal Lecter as he played his cards as if he could see the entire poker table from behind his own hand. Hannibal Lecter who liked to deal in fate and came out on top constantly. The devil in a suit and tie that Will didn't dare try to wake from his slumber until Will had been awakened from his in the middle of a mental institute.

Will stopped on the outside wall beside the doorway, back up against the stone that sucked the little warmth he still had through his soaked jacket. His gun was held up as his lifeline and he rounded the corner to look into the tomb.

If Will had more of a moment to look around, he probably would have been impressed with how nicely the inside had turned out. How smooth the walls were, how carefully the flooring was laid down, how sweetly each candle was lit and place to keep each step cast in a fluttering golden color, the way that the casket had been given the right of the very center of the room that was shadowed by an oversized cross. The casket sat on an altar, a singed red ribbon adorning the top of it, in between the pillars that held up the roof that was much taller than Will had originally thought it would be. Every inch of this place was polished as if a master craftsman had constructed it and Will wondered if there was anything that Hannibal couldn't be absolutely perfect in achieving.

A flick of lightning brought Will back to himself as shadows of men danced along the walls of the tomb. Four men behind the casket and what looked like a rope. Will tightened his grip on his gun and stepped over to the casket that had been jostled.

A dark lump laid on the ground in front of the casket and Will's eyes narrowed as he stepped closer to it. His shoes slipped on the floor and Will thought that maybe it was the rain he was dripping across the floor, but the puddle was far darker than water.

Will's chest tightened at a shadow of movement in his peripheral and he turned to follow the movement. The ding sound echoed through Will's ears like he had shoved his head into a bronze church bell and it had gone off to signal it were time to say the lord's prayer. Without his permission, his body dropped to the floor, gun fumbling from his hand as the stunned shock of the impact began to set in.

The desire to assess the damage was immediate and Will's hand reached up to his face to feel at his left temple and cheek bone to make sure that they weren't broken. He didn't care about the possibility of broken teeth or the blood that he had fallen into. All he cared about was if he were going to get the stars in his vision to disappear so he could once more be inside of the tomb instead of in an epilepsy starter pack.

The oddest part to Will, as his body fought to get back to his feet, was the fact that Will knew exactly where he was and what had happened, even if a numbness was settling into the left side of his face. His fingers found nothing out of place, thankfully and returned to help the rest of his body in the attempt to right himself.

The shovel. Someone had hit him with the shovel and it wasn't Hannibal. The man's build was different from Hannibal's. There had been four, but whoever Will was using for stability had been taken out by Hannibal.

The harsh prickle of a jute rope wrapped around his throat and Will to his knees. In a blind panic, Will's hands jumped to the rope, clawing desperately at it. He gasped and coughed, trying to get oxygen through the restricted airway.

Stop and think, Will ordered himself through the mess of his head.

With fingers going numb, one of Will's hands dropped down to his boot where his hunting knife sat. He ripped it free and flicked it open as quickly as he could, fisting the handle in his hand and drilling it back as harshly as he could into the man's leg.

There was a loud cry of pain in Will's ear that was nearly as deafening as the shovel bouncing off his skull, but the rope around his throat loosened. Will inhaled sharply with a sputtering cough, forcing himself to focus back on the knife in his hand that was still embedded in the man's leg.

Will tugged it free and turned, plunging the blade into the man's chest, a refreshing feeling through him. A breath of air like he had just gotten home from a long day of work and kicked off his shoes. A moment of peace as the blade sunk down to the hilt only for Will to pull it back again.

The man tumbled back, a hand going to his chest, but Will didn't care. He lunged forward, straddling the man and sinking the knife back into the man's flesh.

There had been a handful of times that Will had felt this sensation before and all of them had to do with Hannibal and killing. The first was with Garret Jacob Hobbs. The feeling of power that had run through him and kept him shaking and jittery long after the rest of the FBI had shown up. Next had been with Eldon Stammets. Though Will hadn't been able to kill him, the idea that he had the man under his thumb and could pull the trigger at any time was thrilling.

Randel Tier was next. The way that snapping the man's neck had jolted up his arms, echoing the sensation up to his brain had sent his heart into a fluttering overdrive. Freddie Lounds had been close to meeting her end. Will nearly considered disposing of the thorn in his side, but had ultimately decided against it when he realized how they could trace her back to him so easily with the continuous scuffle that existed between them. Biting into Cordell's cheek had heightened his senses and brought him closer to Hannibal still, opened up some understanding doorway between them with that little smirk from Hannibal when Will had spit the flesh from his mouth and sticky red dripped down his chin.

And then sending Chilton into that checkmate. Will couldn't deny the wicked sense of control and satisfaction that came to him when he stepped into that hospital room and was greeted with a charcoaled doctor who honestly shouldn't have been alive.

Francis Dolarhyde really had been just what Will had said and that honestly wasn't terrifying anymore and Will didn't know why he had fought it for so long. Beautiful. That's what their dance had been. A waltz that someone had perfectly choreographed between the cannibal and empath.

Jordan and Casey had been an adrenaline riddled rush, an itch that needed to be scratched. The same way that drilling a knife through Jordan had tired out his arms like it was now was a delicious revelation at how strong Will actually was to be able to take the reins.

Liam Jefferies and his goonies had been enjoyable. There was no point in denying it. It had reawakened something in Will that he had forgotten had existed. Something that he had reveled in all night and the next morning as he scrubbed down that hotel room. Something dark and horrible that he could share with Hannibal that Hannibal wouldn't judge him for. Something that Hannibal would gently encourage, like a kind push from a parent towards a child who was learning to ride a bike for the first time.

As for this moment... Will's rushing blood was waking up his brain, though he had been fairly certain he was already awake. His smile grew of its own accord and Will couldn't even begin to dream of hiding what this had ignited in him. He was going to be black and blue by the end of this, but honestly, that's what he had been built for. The abuse was his to live through and make his own and he wasn't about to let it control him again.

A strong pair of hands snatched up his shoulders and he was ripped away from the whimpering body and his knife. His feet staggered as they attempted to catch himself as he was shoved away from his prey.

Arms of the fourth man circled around his chest and pulled him in tightly, restraining him as man number three came after him. A strike of lightning filled the stone encasement and thunder regurgitated itself repeatedly around them, the rain almost as loud. In the sharp light contrast, Will could make out something glittery on the fist that was coming for him.

The blow to his ribs knocked the air from him and he doubled over, coughing as he gasped once again for air. The arms around his chest held him in place and Will's vision blurred with tears as his ribs rippled pain, possibly broken from the brass across number three's knuckles.

A handful of his hair was seized and his head was back, pain alight across his scalp from the rip. The world went bright once more and Will found it hard to breathe as the fist connected with his face.

He could feel the knife through butter like tear of his skin over his cheek and the sticky heat of his own blood rushed down the side of his face and filled his mouth with a sickly coppery saltiness. The world spun and Will's knees went limp as he tried to regain control of his body.

With all of the strength he could find in his legs, he threw his body weight forward and tugged Four with him to the floor. Will's ribs screamed and the sound reached his ears, meaning he must have made it aloud, though he couldn't quite register it having been produced. Another crack of lightning illuminated the space and sent a halo of light around Will's gun. He scrambled from his fetal position towards the weapon and scooped it up.

His body turned as it had been trained to do and from where he lay on the ground, he fired a shot that lit up the room like the lightning. There was a sob indicating that Will had hit his mark and then a thud of a body falling. Will wasn't sure if he had hit Three or Four, but he honestly didn't care. The thrill wasn't lessened in the slightest.

The room fell silent save for the outside storm and Will stayed quiet, looking through the dark room to find the last of the four men missing. Will's eyes narrowed and pushed himself slowly from his back, to his knees and then his feet. Had he run? Will hadn't seen a body go for the exit. He hadn't heard any rushed running.

With a deep breath, Will leaned over, spitting his mouthful of crimson to the floor. He cautiously stepped his way around the altar, the lightning not even giving up any secrets for him. But it highlighted a rope that Will had completely forgotten about. A rope that had been thrown over one of the exposed beams in the ceiling and tied to one of the pillars.

Will rounded the casket and stopped at a man on his knees, ankles tied and hands restrained behind his body and hoisted up at a hideous angle with the rope that stretched sky high. His face was cut up over one cheek and Will wondered if the shovel or the brass knuckles had taken him down.

"I was beginning to wonder if you were going to grace me with your presence, darling boy," Hannibal muttered in English with a chuckle lacing his words. It was almost odd to hear the accented voice instead of the melodic Lithuanian Will had been listening to over the recent days.

Will stayed silent, unsure what to say. Instead he spit another mouthful of blood to the floor. His eyes trailed over his husband, but Will wasn't able to make anything out in the darkness of the room. He took in the room one more time, still finding it void of the fourth person, and went for the closest lit candle. The flame danced as Will moved it closer to the killer until it splashed the smallest bit of light over Hannibal's face.

Hannibal's eyes were soft with a kind smile that didn't pull at his lips, but if Will had to guess, Hannibal was truly happy to see him. Will wished the feeling was mutual. Happy wasn't exactly the right word, though Will wasn't sure what could be right. Not when the hair on the back of his neck still stood on end, ready for what could possibly be waiting for him.

"You left," Will finally stated, voice far more cracked and broken than he wanted it to be, his body feeling a little weaker now that the pain was beginning to set in. His ribs thudded annoyingly in his chest and his face was brightly aflame. "You fucking left, Hannibal. I-"

With a huff, the words were knocked out of Will's mouth and his body connected sharply with the floor beneath him. He groaned at the crying of his ribs. His wrist was snatched up and slammed against the floor, causing his gun to drop from his hand before he had a chance to regain his grip.

The man above him scooped the weapon up and aimed it at Will's face. Will forced his knee into the man's back and threw him off balance, allowing Will the chance to scramble to his knees to reach for the closest thing he could find.

His hands grabbed up the handle of the shovel and the metal loud as it scraped across the floor as Will pulled it to himself. He lifted it from the floor and it immediately tried to jump from his hand with a shower of sparks.

The thunderous roar of the gun was nearly hidden beneath another rumble of thunder and Will's heart stuttered in his chest as he struggled to regrasp the shovel that had deflected a bullet for him. He turned, swinging the shovel as hard as he could and felt the collision up the handle and into his arms.

It dropped the last man instantly with a moan. Will stepped closer, kicking his gun from the man's hand before raising the shovel over his head. It came down on the man's back, knocking the rising figure back to the floor.

A strong, maroon stare flushed Will a blushing red, embarrassment pooling through him at the captive audience. He did his best to ignore the encouragement radiating from his husband as the shovel leveled the last intruder once more.

Will stepped around the body, looking at the man for as long as it took him to get back to his knees before he thrust the blade of the shove down and into the man's back. The sensation was so far detached from a shovel hitting dirt that it sent shock through Will that only lasted a breath before he repeated the action.

Over and over, the sounds sickening, but overtaken by the thunder outside.

"Will," a faraway voice called to him, though it too was muffled.

It felt good, straight down into his bones, it felt good. Excitement danced in the core of what and who he was as a gurgling death rattle came from the intruder's throat. Why hadn't Will leaned into this earlier? Why hadn't he aligned his mind with his soul in the beginning? It was so crystal clear now.

"Will."

For once in the big, wide world of confusion, Will knew where he was heading and how. He knew that he no longer needed that wendigo to guide him through the forest. He could see the path perfectly, but he would keep the wendigo at his side.

The buzz from power was addictively drunkening. His body no longer ached, instead it was bright with life. High with adrenaline and a racing heart. Ready to take on the world and strike down any being that so much as dared to look in his direction.

"Will."

The weapon careened down with a final strike, the shovel reverberating as it hit the stone floor. Will stared, blinking through the dim candle light, curious as to why he had hit the floor when he had been so certain that he had been hitting a body.

A sense of satisfaction filled Will's chest as he looked over a death that would have obviously been a figment of some novelist's imagination. The shovel fell from his hand and clattered to the floor beside the decapitated body that was swimming in a puddle of scarlet that caught the lightning like a glass of Lambrusco.

Will inhaled deeply, trying to steady his panting. The sweet metallic twang of a jar of change was strong, even among the newly poured concrete scent. His eyes flickered around his work, pride flaring as he made his way to his gun. He picked it up from the ground and returned it to its rightful place against his hip before he stepped past a curiously watching Hannibal and to one of the other men beside the altar.

Will knelt down and reached out, removing his knife with a hard jerk. He checked each of the remaining bodies for life before turning his attention back to the man sitting in submission upon his knees.

"How did they get to you?" Will mocked, steps slow and calculated. "You must have known they were here." He rounded the space and was met with a wickedly curved smile and bright, proud eyes that followed the line of his body, assessing the damage left behind.

"Grave robbers," Hannibal supplied, though his attention didn't deviate from Will. "They have been casing out the place for about as long as you have been, darling boy."

"Don't call me that," Will instructed. "I am in no mood to deal with your charm, Hannibal."

"I just can't discern why they wouldn't have waited for my departure or tried for my home. There's nothing of value here other than my sister's remains," Hannibal continued on like Will hadn't said a word and Will could feel that same bubbling anger that had caused him to pull his gun on Hannibal not too long ago. The same itching in the back of his skull that had ended with an engagement. "One of them hit me with the shovel, though..." Hannibal's eyes turned to where Will's last victim lay before they flickered back to Will with a swirling darkness in them. "They did not use the same finesse that you did."

Will chuckled with a shake of his head. He grabbed up the hem of his shirt and used it to clean the blade of the knife, noting the way that Hannibal's head tipped in curiosity. "What do you want, Hannibal? Drop the mask. I already told you that I don't want to deal with the bull shit charm. I won't repeat myself again."

"I have what I want already, Will," Hannibal assured, eyes tight on the knife as Will bent over to return the weapon to his boot. "Anything more would feel like challenging the gods."

Will's eyes flashed as they shot up to Hannibal. Will straightened himself and stepped closer to the man, spitting another mouthful of blood from his lips. "You said you don't fear the gods," Will whispered, dropping to his knees to be level with Hannibal.

"Are all of those lovely little memories back in place then?"

The words were punctuated to make sure each one stuck out in the air between them. "Each and every single one, Hannibal." Will looked over Hannibal's injuries, enjoying the way that the red looked black in the faux moon made of candle light. "From the very beginning us to now. From the first moment I heard your name." Will's voice had softened slightly and he reached out, caressing over Hannibal's cut cheek. Hannibal inhaled sharply at the contact, but his eyes stayed strongly connected to Will's gaze.

A flash of lighting sent a flicker of shine up to Will and Will's hand wandered down to where his attention was. Over Hannibal's jaw and down his neck to where a chain greeted his fingertips.

"Bastard," Will hissed, fingers snatching up the chain and what ornamented it, only to rip it from Hannibal's neck. The chain snapped and fell limp in Will's hand. "You took it. You fucking took it back."

"You had no use for it," Hannibal defended, but he must have known the excuse to be weak because he didn't follow it up with anything more substantial at Will's bitter look.

"I'm your fucking husband, you asshole." Will pulled the ring from the chain and tossed the chain aside to be forgotten before he placed the ring back onto his finger, the bone adorning his skin beautifully in the flickering firelight. A breath of air filled Will's lungs and tugged painfully at his tender ribs as the familiarity of the ring wiped the odd feeling from its place. "I thought I had lost it. I couldn't remember you and about had a panic attack when it was just gone."

"I didn't-"

"Why did you leave?" Will demanded, hands thrown to his sides and now fists. He was met with silence and his chest tightened. "Why did you leave, Hannibal?"

"Walter wanted me to."

"So you listened to a little kid?"

"I don't think you quite grasp the situation that-"

"What on earth would make you listen to an eleven year old?"

"A gun," Hannibal supplied, unsure he would be able to get of a longer answer out than that. Will's expression grew to a confused curiosity and his lips twisted into a pained small with a snort of laughter. "He's your son, Will."

"He is," Will agreed with a nod. His hands relaxed and with a sigh he once more reached out to caress Hannibal's face. "He's yours now too, you know." Hannibal's eyes slid closed and he leaned into Will's palm, pressing a kiss to the skin there that was tacky with dried blood. "We can finally be a family, can't we? The one that you promised me so long ago?"

"Yes," Hannibal whispered, giving Will's hand another kiss. "Once I say goodbye to my sister, we'll get your son and be a family like I promised."

Will couldn't stop the whimper from his throat and he leaned over, kissing the man in front of him. His breathing hitched as he fitted himself perfectly against the killer. The gentleness didn't last long as Will's hands tangled up in Hannibal's greying hair and tugged at it to pull Hannibal into an angle to deepen the kiss.

Will pulled back, leaving Hannibal breathing hard with glazed over eyes. "Our first kiss," Will muttered with a pitiful chuckle and a shake of his head. "Didn't think it would be like this."

Hannibal's brows furrowed in confusion. "This isn't-"

"This isn't our first, first kiss, Hannibal," Will agreed quickly with a nod, resting his forehead to Hannibal's. "But it's our first kiss with my acceptance of all of my memories." Will's laugh was a little louder this time and he cut it off with another kiss that quickly turned into a moan. "I hate how charming you are," he muttered between the heated kisses that Hannibal returned wholeheartedly. "How many times have you won me over? How many firsts have we had between us? Each version of me you loved."

"I will always love every facet of you, Will."

Will pulled away with a groan and wrenched Hannibal's head back so he could attack Hannibal's throat with his teeth. Hannibal gasped at the contact, but didn't fight as a lacing of purples began to bloom over his skin.

"You left," Will accused, nails digging into the back of Hannibal's head, earning the empath a moan. "You left me, Hannibal." Their bodies pressed to one another, hips to hips, chests to chests. Will's claws dragged down and over Hannibal to rest on his tensed shoulders from the angle that his arms were still restrained into. "You're not leaving me again."

"Never," Hannibal agreed on a forced breath.

Will pressed a lingering kiss to Hannibal's pulse, feeling it pound beneath his lips. He licked hungrily at it before his teeth latched onto Hannibal's earlobe and gave it a tug. "The safe word is teacup, and I am going to make sure you fucking use it, Dr. Lecter," Will hissed, eyes dark and dangerous when he met Hannibal's gaze.

"Another first, dear Will?"

"I swear to Christ if you quote Madonna's Like a Virgin or something, I'm going to-"

Hannibal shook his head. "I've missed you is all."

"Prove it."

"Untie me."

Will laughed heartily and Hannibal's chest warmed at the sound he wasn't sure he would ever hear again. Will nipped playfully at Hannibal's lips with a deep sigh. "Not so fast, Dr. Lecter. You're not getting out of this that easily." Will pulled himself completely from Hannibal and rose to his feet to look over the rather intricate knotwork. "Impressive, if anything," Will praised, eyes following the line of the rope up and over the exposed beam.

He stepped past Hannibal and went to the pillar it was tied to, untying the knot, only to wrap the rope around his hand. The bite of the fibers against his skin made him smile as he gave an experimental tug. Hannibal groaned as his arms were pulled back behind him and Will spun around with a smirk. "Hush, monster," he instructed as he walked back to Hannibal, allowing the rope to go slack. "Hush."

Hannibal's shoulders slumped and he breathed a sigh of relief that Will didn't allow him to live in for long. He pulled the rope taut once more and there was a sharp inhale of hair through crooked teeth.

"Monster, I have a game for you to play," Will announced as he gathered up the slack rope and wrapped it further around his hand and then his wrist. He found himself at Hannibal's back and looked over the angle Hannibal knelt in. Submissive and silent and sweet. "It's called Remind Me Of Your Vows. Your empty, pretty vows to me." Will knelt down behind Hannibal, leaning over to kiss at the back of Hannibal's neck as one of his hands slipped around Hannibal's front to work at the fabric that was between them. "I'll help you start them." Will nipped at Hannibal's neck before pulling back to add all of his focus to pulling Hannibal's pants down to his knees. "I commit myself."

Hannibal let out a whimper and Will only smiled a bit more as he finally freed Hannibal. His hand immediately went to work, taking Hannibal's hard length and stroking it. Hannibal's head fell forward at the touch.

"I commit myself." The words were no more than a breath through an opened mouth. "To spend the rest..."

"Do continue Doctor Lecter," Will taunted in Hannibal's ear, his other hand maneuvering around its grip on the rope to pull at his belt. "What pretty little lies did you tell me that night?"

"To spend the rest of my days making yours as beautiful-"

"Beautiful," Will repeated for emphasis.

"-and complete-"

"Complete." Will gave another pull at the rope in his hand and Hannibal moaned, shaking his head.

"Will," he begged, but Will ignored him, the tightness in his jeans far too much for him to bear any longer. "Please."

"We're not done with the game, Doctor Lecter. Continue."

Will pulled his hand from Hannibal and the man let out a whine at the loss of contact. Will wasn't sure he had ever heard the man so absolutely weak before. Not even when he had been crying on the floor in their kitchen.

Will pulled himself free from the fabric of his jeans and, without more of a thought, spit into his hand, only turning the dried blood into a gummy mess. But what did it matter? They could be as dirty as they wanted. It was raining outside. Thunder still crackled, lightning still lit up the room like the second coming of Christ, so what if the pompous asshole got a little dirty? He could go clean off in the rain if he wanted to complain about it.

"Making yours as beautiful and complete as you have made mine since the day I met you," Hannibal pressed on.

"Keep going," Will instructed darkly as his fingers found their way to Hannibal's entrance, circling it. Hannibal's body stiffened slightly with a sharp exhale. Another tug of the rope was accentuated with a, "Keep fucking going, Doctor."

Hannibal's voice was absolutely shattered when he obeyed. "For you are the reflection of my very soul."

"Am I?"

"Yes," was gasped out as a finger pressed into him without so much as a warning. Will's breath was magma against the nape of his neck as Will nuzzled himself there. "A reflection of a part that I-that I had lost..." Hannibal moaned at the hint of pain that came with an impatient second finger.

"Stay with me, monster. You're not even close to being done yet."

"I had lost many years ago." Hannibal's jaw clenched as he was worked open. His eyes shut tightly and all that was there was feeling. He couldn't reach, couldn't touch, couldn't control. He just had to sit and live in this moment. Let it happen around him and it was terrifying and made his heart pound in his chest. "And was gone un-until-" A moan ripped apart the words as Will's fingers brushed that bundle of nerves deep inside of him. His breathing came in pants and Will chuckled.

"Is this too much, monster? Do you need me to stop?"

"No." Hannibal shook his head.

"Then finish your vows to me."

"Was gone until you gave it back to me." The strain in Hannibal's voice only made Will that much more impatient. But he wasn't finished with Hannibal yet. Hannibal would regret leaving, even if a gun was aimed at his pretty face. He was going to learn once and for all who he belonged to and that this wasn't just a whenever-he-feels-like-it situation. "No lies."

"No lies," Will hissed in Hannibal's ear, earning him a moan.

"No secrets."

"No secrets."

"No laws- Will, please!"

"It's so fun to watch you unravel by my hand." Will gave Hannibal's neck another kiss, feeling the pulse just below the skin racing. "Who knew that fucking you was easier than manipulation?"

"Will!" Hannibal's legs had spread as far apart as the ropes around them allowed, only allowing Will that much more of an easy access to Hannibal's sweet spot. He brushed over it relentlessly, curious how long it would take for Hannibal to fall silent, like he could cause Will to do. Become nothing but a mindless, moaning mess. "More."

Will snickered against Hannibal's neck and shook his head. "After all of this and you think you deserve more?" His tongue trailed up Hannibal's neck, the taste of sweat and hard work present, only making Will ache more. But he could wait. He could draw this out for as long as he wanted. It was only fair, right? Of course it was. This was his design after all. "And we're still not done with our game." Hannibal whimpered, trembling against Will's body, hands snatching at the fabric of Will's shirt from the odd angle they were still being held again. "Something about death do us part?"

"And not even death," Hannibal gasped out around a harsh trust from Will's fingers and a tight tug on the rope, "will keep me apart from you for-"

"Not so fast, Doctor," Will interrupted. "I don't want to hear the last part yet." Will's fingers pulled from Hannibal and the tension released in his shoulders, his head falling forward with a whine until the rope caught him and held him in place. Will once more spit into his palm and ran his hand over his length with a relieved inhale. He released his grip on the rope just enough to allow Hannibal to relax into a much more preferable angle. Will lined himself up and pushed himself fully into Hannibal with a single thrust, pinning Hannibal's arms to his back and causing the man to straighten up with a gasp. "The rest of your vows," Will pushed with a deep breath as he focused on staying still, the tight heat enough to drive him mad.

"For you and I are one."

The words were weak and Will nodded, hiding his face in Hannibal's shoulder. The emotions rolling off of Hannibal sent Will's empathy into a skyrocket. Drowning him to the point where he was outside of himself until a whined version of his name jerked him back into place. Back into the tomb built with Hannibal's own hands that was now sanctified with spilt blood and bodies.

Will pulled back and snapped his hips back against Hannibal who gasped at the movement, hands twisting tighter into Will's bloodied shirt for any form of stability. Will's set pace was brutal, but there was no complaint, no argument from the Doctor. He simply took all of what Will gave him, stifled cries falling past his teeth without his permission.

The teeth that found Hannibal's flesh and bit into it sent Hannibal's head falling backwards onto Will's shoulder. The brightness of the pain given to him by his husband made him feel more alive than anything or anyone else ever could.

Will's free hand found its way back to Hannibal's cock and began stroking it with a fever that sent a spike of pleasure rushing up the man's strained back.

"Will," Hannibal begged, though he wasn't actually sure what for. He could no longer process what was actually happening, moans and whimpers and whines so loud, their mingled gasps and panting breath so lewd in the room over the thunder and rain. "Will."

Will unlatched his jaw from Hannibal's collar. "Hush, monster." His tongue licked over the reddening markings to sooth it and Hannibal shook his head. "Learn your lesson and I might let you come."

"Will!"

"I don't ever want you to abandon me again, Hannibal." Each work was accented with a harsh thrust that forced Hannibal off balance, once more being held up by his grip on Will's shirt and the rope around his arms that were now burning in the sweetest fire he could imagine. "For you are the reflection of my very soul. That's what you said, wasn't it, monster?"

"Yes."

"A reflection of a part that I had lost many years ago and was gone until you gave it back to me. Does that sound right?"

"Y-yes!" Hannibal gulped with a nod of his head, toes curling in his shoes as tight heat filled his gut.

"No lies, no secrets, no laws and not even death will keep me apart from you," Will repeated, his grip around Hannibal tightening. They were both so close, but Will wasn't sure he wanted to let go yet. He wanted this to sink into Hannibal the same way that he had wanted their first time to sink into him. Each sensation needed to be carved into the very being that was Hannibal Lecter.

Memories were tied and triggered by stimulus. Taste, touch, sound, smell.

Sear yourself into my skin.

Hannibal's fingers released and grasped at Will once more, nails catching the across his stomach, the bite harsh. There was not going to be a time without pain between them and Will didn't want there to be. The pain was theirs and it should stay that way.

"For you and I are one."

That was enough to send Hannibal over the edge with a bitten back moan. His body fell forward, weak against its restraints as he spilled over Will's hand. The tightness around Will brought his orgasm to him out of nowhere and he gasped, hiding his face in Hannibal's shoulder as he rode out the waves of pleasure, their gasping breath the only thing Will could hear.

"You didn't say anything about in sickness and in health, Hannibal," Will pressed on, licking at his lips as he straightened himself up. "But being a doctor, I think that means you have a double obligation to me."

"Will… I-"

"No." Will carefully removed himself from Hannibal and wiped his dirtied hand over Hannibal's thigh to clean it. "I'm not done with you yet." Will released his tight grip on the rope, letting it fall completely slack. Hannibal groaned and fell fully forward, laying across the stone floor, panting. Will steadied himself, cleaned himself up, put himself back together before he pulled his knife from his boot. "We're not done yet Hannibal. Not even close."

Will slipped the knife between Hannibal's ankles and began slicing through the thick rope there, the snapping sound hidden under the thunder. Once his ankles were free, Will moved onto the rope around Hannibal's shins.

"What is it you wish to discuss?" Hannibal asked, all calmness and poise back to his voice despite the way he was still breathing hard. Will didn't answer. Simply moved on to the rope binding Hannibal's wrists. Hannibal's hands stretched when they were free and Will moved onto the next at his elbow before the last one around Hannibal's biceps was released as well. Hannibal's arms fell slack and he winced as he stretched them out. "I miscalculated something."

"Your lack of commitment?" Will grumbled with a roll of his eyes as he closed up the knife and returned it to his boot.

"Walter."

Will's brows furrowed and he glanced up at the man who was still laying on the tomb floor, now staring up at the ceiling, still partly undressed, debauched, and rubbing at his sore arms.

"Oh, so soon?" Will asked, unable to hide the frustration in his voice. "I didn't expect you to bring him up until later."

"I was ready for the end," Hannibal admitted, pulling the anger from Will as he spoke. "Ready to die by your hand, but he came and he..." Hannibal trailed off, the thought going unspoken much to Will's curiosity, and a new line of thought was chosen. "He is brazen and incredibly stubborn."

"Qualities you and our son have in common."

"Our?" Hannibal pushed himself to sit up with a grimace, arms crying out in pain.

"I came for you," Will explained with a shrug. "For us to be a family, but if you say no I will be returning to Walter as a widower." Hannibal's lips twitched up into a smile and Will couldn't help but lean over and kiss it away.

"Atsiprašau," Hannibal whispered through the kisses, something apologetic in his tone. "We should clean this place up. There's a freshly dug grave for the bodies."

Will chuckled with a roll of his eyes at the comment before shaking his head. "We're not done. You haven't said teacup yet."

---

Atsiprašau: I'm sorry