By the way, I'm much more present on archiveofourown if you want to follow the story there. I can't post links on the chapter but the story has the same name and can be found easily there.
There was blood everywhere, so much he couldn't see anything but that; and it was beautiful. It was like all those masterpieces artists devoted their life for: what was in front of him was his legacy to the world, and oh, he was proud. He was a bloody red too, from his hair to his toes, and it kept dropping, again, and again, and again. He raised his head to the ceiling, it was also red, he didn't even know how it had went there, did he do that? He hoped so, and he smiled as if he couldn't be happier than now. He won against them all, and himself included. All this life had not been important until this very moment, and he felt powerful, invincible even. Without the help of anyone or any gun, he did all that, who could doubt him now? There were so many bodies he couldn't walk without putting his feet on one, and he didn't care, they were all his, he could do anything he wanted with them. Even if they were now only lifeless bodies, their owner stopping breathing in the touch of his hands. He remembered every murder, every bead of blood leaving the corpses to fall on him, and the eyes. The eyes were so important during all the process, it was the thing he would remember the most. His victim knew that they couldn't survive to this, to him, but they kept pleading anyway, with a strength he never knew they were capable of. They looked at him, right in the eyes, and without moving their lips, screamed "please, please, please don't do this". And he laughed, because they were so stupid, why would they act like this when they knew they had no issues? Didn't they want to have a bit of dignity at the end? Or did they just want to end all of this like they started it. He wished one of them would have been different, would have at least tried to understand why he did all that, but they were all just selfish. Even if he did them a favor, they just wanted to live. For nothing.
But people don't deserve to live if they choose to become stupid, lifeless people.
He had had an audience during all of that, but hadn't paid attention to it, he had been so focused he forgot all that wasn't him and the sight of the blood. He was his shadow now, he didn't make a sound, was almost invisible if he didn't feel him to his core. He even tried moves during his murders only him made before, with a grace he knew he didn't have, for now at least. He was still a beginner, and he wondered what damages he could do in a few years. Well, he would teach him everything he needed to know and do, to make all of this more beautiful. He could always do better, because he would show him everything he had to do.
He knew why he talked about his murders as if they were work of arts: because they were, and no painting, no music, no sculpture could give him enough justice. It had always been the masterpiece from the master of all. And he would follow him and all his doings everywhere. The man was just so beautiful everything he touched had to be, and he didn't need a museum to be acclaimed or criticized, because he knew, he simply knew. There was no better thing, human, creator than him. Not even God.
"And Will, you are beautiful. My most beautiful work," Hannibal said behind him, Will sensing his eyes everywhere on him. He didn't need to turn his back to know that he was amazed by his student. And proud, so proud. But he did turn back, he just wanted to see him.
"Nothing's as beautiful as you are, and I only learned from you. Was it all you wanted? Am I finally your equal?" he asked him by watching him, who was also wearing scarlet, just like him.
They both didn't care about anything now, not even about what surrounded them. Only the other mattered. And the other was just as perfect as they needed him to be.
"You're more than that, you've always been, you know that. I'm not impressed by what you did, I knew you could do it. But I wasn't prepared to see how perfect you would be. Did I do all that to you?"
"Oh but you did, and it is the most wonderful thing in the world, don't you think? Are we together now? Do we make a team?"
"Oh but we're not a team Will."
Hannibal approached him, Will not moving a bit. Immobile, he let him do whatever he wanted, because he was his. He was born for him, only him, and he regretted it took him so long to finally understand that. They could have been like that since forever, but he had been stupid like the people at their feet. And he wanted to apologize to him, about that, or to make him know he wanted to change the past. To make the teacup gather together. All of this, his life even, was entirely dedicated to him. It wasn't a compromise; it was simply what he deserved.
"Will," Hannibal whispered, putting both his rough but treasured hands on his face. He kissed him, slowly touching his lips, as if they were too delicate to be touched. "Will, we're only one."
Will didn't make a move, didn't dare to because he wasn't directing his movements, only Hannibal did. He felt the weight of submission all over his body, but didn't try to push it off. He so desperately wanted it, waited for it.
And Hannibal kissed him furiously, taking all of him. And he gave it all.
It was a dog yelping outside that woke him up. He could recognize those sounds anywhere, he was so used to know when an animal was hurt and needed help, and the yelps weren't that loud. Acting without thinking more, he put a shirt on and slowly went out of his room, not wanting to wake Hannibal up, whose room was very close to his. He first decided to go to the kitchen and took a piece of raw meat. And then, always this slowly, he opened the door of the house. The house may be big, any of his moves resonated a lot, and after a dream as vivid as this one, he didn't want to see Hannibal. He knew what it all meant, but he didn't want to show to the older his thoughts. He knew he would see it all simply by looking at his face.
But, at least, the nightmares weren't there anymore.
The dog was nowhere to be seen, but could still be heard. Thanks to that, Will walked to him, handing him slowly the meat while he approached him, to create some sense of trust. The animal was scared but also very hungry, and that was made him walk to Will, his nose moving the more he recognized the scent of food. He smiled at him; he wanted the dog to know that he wouldn't hurt him, he only wanted to help him.
"Good dog," Will said when he finally ate the little pieces of meat he gave him. He knelt down to the dog, and looked at him, or as much as he could with only the light of the stars, and he didn't like what he saw. He was definitely hurt, blood seeping from his left ear and his mouth, and he was limping from his hind limb, which was also bleeding. Teeth marks were visible on his back, and some of his hair was gone from the attack. The fact that he was standing by all his paws impressed Will, but he didn't he couldn't take any more: the only thing making him stand was the food he was given.
When he finally ate the last piece of meat, the dog suddenly fell back, too weak to do anything. He didn't wait any longer and cautiously carried him in his arms, taking him back home. His clothes were being stained with red, but that didn't matter to him. He finally got used to blood, liking it more than the opposite. Pushing the door, he wasn't impressed in the least to find Hannibal waiting for him, wearing a dressing gown and always, always so impeccably combed. When he saw the animal in his arms, he didn't ask anything, just moved to the dining room where he placed white sheets on the table and what appeared to be a bag full of medical instruments;
"You, you just –" started Will by looking at the bag, his eyebrows raised in astonishment.
"Yes?" the older man asked by taking the dogs from the arms and putting him on the table.
"Nothing, just, nothing," he simply answered while still watching Hannibal.
He felt the dog getting weaker and weaker in front of him, but promised himself he wouldn't let him die: he lost a certain amount of blood but he knew the animals and how to take care of them, and Hannibal was once an excellent doctor. He still was, he knew that, that was why he let him do whatever he needed to do at this instant. He let him put a needle in his neck, morphine, and let him see the injuries while Will caressed the dog's head, so that he knew he could trust them both.
"It looks like he has been attacked by wolves, they are numerous here," stated Hannibal when he took note of the wounds in the back. "I'm not worried about his ear and paw, those are minor injuries and the latter is broken but nothing that isn't healed in a few weeks. I hope he is vaccinated because the injuries in the back are profound, but not life threatening. He's going to be alright after a few stitches, but…"
"But what?" he asked when he saw Hannibal frown in front of something he found on the dog. "Did they do more?"
"Look at this, you will know by yourself," he simply answered.
Will wondered how he didn't see this, he was so used to dogs he immediately knew when something was wrong. But this one had just been so damaged by the attack he didn't show anything else. But when he saw the burns almost everywhere on his body, where more hair was still missing. His bones were also showing, highlighting his thinness. How couldn't he have seen that?
He wanted to save the dog when he saw him, it was his first instinct. But Hannibal was in his mind at the same moment, overshadowing what happened in the present, when he had needed to focus. This was getting a bit out of hand.
"He's been mistreated by humans,' he explained while examining his body a few more times to be sure he didn't miss anything else. "He's not old, he's maybe two, three, but he didn't eat for so long he was as heavy as a feather when I took him. I wonder how had survived against the wolves after all that."
"Dogs are also known to be very brave creature, but this one is exceptional. He is lucky you found him Will, he will survive all of this after all."
"Yeah, well I just hope he isn't too mentally damaged."
"And I notice she's not a he. She's a beautiful Labrador, she's maybe three, four even. But I guess you already knew that."
They both took care of her, the dog now sleeping while Will assisted Hannibal: he stitched her, put bandages on her wounds while the younger man tried to soothe her, feeling with the hands on the animal's body and by looking in her eyes how sad she was, even after they treated her properly. She barely ate the food they gave her, she just stopped yelping and laid there, on the table. Will wondered if he should have killed her quickly when he first saw her: he never was able to see any of his dogs suffer, and this one wasn't an exception.
"Animals never deserve the violence we do to them," said Hannibal while looking at the dog, him too caressing his hair. "They are just primitive, they act to feed themselves and their family, and to bring more of their race in this world. The only reason some become too dangerous for the human kind is when that same kind is the only food they see after a long time. Or when people treat them too badly; then it's only justice if the animal wins over its master. Our race is the worst one the world ever knew, it saddens me to know that they have to live with us. They never were the problem."
That made Will look at him, a little smile growing on his lips. He now understood that Hannibal was in fact the purest person he knew, and why he was this careless about violence against people. He wasn't a god, no. He only was just another animal in this world.
They let the dog sleep on the couch in the living room with food and water beside her. Afterwards, Hannibal took care of his medical supplies while Will cleaned the dining room; he then went outside to enjoy the cool weather of the night. He couldn't sleep again after everything that happened, between his dream and the dog.
Sitting on the ground, he looked at the stars, trying to make constellations even if he forgot most of their names. It had been a long time since he had the patience to enjoy the night, but now he felt that he had too much time. It wasn't a problem, on the contrary, but he didn't know what his life was going to be from now on. He didn't know what Hannibal was going to do, or what he planned for them: he looked very happy to spend his days reading, cooking and painting. But Will never had those habits, he was too used of being depressed to have something else to do, they were opposed about that kind of things. Life with him was as easy as it could be, but it was unpredicted too. He almost missed the routine Molly and the FBI gave him, even if it wasn't how he was supposed to live his life.
"I guess you are looking at Ara?" asked Hannibal after a moment, sitting beside him while also looking up at the sky.
"I forgot its name, I couldn't find it. It's a shame I don't remember any of them, they used to be so important to me when I was younger."
"I'm not impressed by this statement, you and Mother Nature as they call it look as if you only make one person."
"Can't find yourself with Man, find yourself with Nature. It always suited me better."
"Then I'm glad I chose this place. There's only us and the wild. But I miss my books."
"What? There are like a thousand of them here, don't they suffice you?"
"There were books that were very dear to me kin my office in Baltimore. Such as my notes about you, that were quite fascinating, you were so intriguing when we first met. So unique. I'm glad I've read them one last time, there is a place just for you in my mind palace."
Will turned his head towards Hannibal, who did the same, looking at him as if he were looking directly at his soul. Will kept looking at him, but with a lesser effect; he could only see what Hannibal was giving, which was very unnerving. Why couldn't he know him the way he did? He wanted to understand the man so much, but Hannibal just wouldn't let him. As if secrets mattered at this point.
"Stop this," Will almost ordered.
"What should I stop?" answered Hannibal while actually not stopping.
"Don't look at me that way, I feel… naked."
"Isn't that the mere purpose of Man? To be understood as well as possible?"
"What's the point if you don't let me see you, huh?"
"I'm letting you do anything you want Will, anything. You're the one who don't want to see."
"You're the only person I'm going to live with for a very long time Hannibal. Hell, I even killed us. Don't you think I want more?" Will said, his eyes going back to the stars. Them talking was disturbing this beautiful night.
Hannibal understood that answering this was of no use. Of course he gave it all to Will, of course, it was all in his hands. But for the first time in a long time, he couldn't get an answer to what seemed a very simple question: Did Will want any of that?