Walter woke up in darkness and sat up in a bed that wasn't his, the sheets far softer than his own. But Morgan was beside him as normal and through the darkness he could make out the outline of his dad, both still fast asleep. But Hannibal was missing.
Walter slowly got to his feet, knees weak under him, sleep still digging into his bones and begging him to lay back into the thousand thread count sheets. But he ignored the feelings and went to the windows, pulling back the curtains just enough to look out. It was dark outside, and Walter wondered if it had only been a few hours since he had fallen asleep or if he had slept the day away, very contrary to Father's rule of the sun being up so the house needed to be up.
Walter left the bedroom and found his way through several hallways and to the stairs. Hitting the bottom step, Walter could make out the scent of coffee and something cooking. He made his way into the kitchen and found Hannibal, sweater sleeves pushed up to his elbows as he cut up into see through thin slices and then cubes of what Walter recognized as prosciutto. Or what he wanted to believe was prosciutto, what he was going to go to his grave believing was prosciutto.
Hannibal looked up from his work, one cheek having several steri-strips holding together gashes from the rings that had been on that man's hand. His nose was bruised across the bridge where a previous scar already sat.
"You should still be sleeping," Hannibal announced, eyes lowering back to his knife work. "You need more rest than your dad and I do. You went through a lot."
"I'm fine," Walter assured, moving to the counter and taking a seat at one of the bar chairs.
"You are handling it better than I thought you would," Hannibal admitted, wiping his hands on a towel that was over his shoulder. He picked up several different wedges of cheese and placed them on the counter beside Walter along with a cheese grater and a bowl. Walter reached out and picked up the first wedge of cheese and peeled at the plastic that was sealing it shut. "I thought you would be reacting a bit more like Morgan did."
"The way that I see it," Walter started with a deep breath, dragging the cheese down the grater, "what happened is what happened. I can't change my actions, there's no reason in letting my emotions get the better of me."
"You did kill two men," Hannibal pointed out, setting the thinly sliced meat aside, not before handing a slice to Walter to eat. Walter placed the ham in his mouth and immediately realized just how hungry he really was. Hannibal then grabbed a fresh cantaloupe and cut it in half with a single slice of his knife.
"They would have killed us." Walter wrapped up the slice of cheese and moved onto the next wedge. "I thought you, of all people, would be proud of what we did."
"I didn't want to come off as the monster the world likes to paint me as," Hannibal stated in a slightly pained voice as he continued to work. "I don't want my children to be afraid of the monster that I am. But I am proud of you."
There was a silence that fell through the kitchen, the two working on whatever Hannibal had planned for dinner or breakfast or whatever meal this was. Walter wasn't sure, and he didn't really care. Anything Hannibal cooked would be perfectly perfect and that's all Walter wanted.
"Tell me what was wrong with the soup," Hannibal said after a moment. The fruit was cut and covered and placed aside and now on the counter was a large amount of flour that Hannibal was turning into a small dam to hold eggs in the middle of. Pasta. Something light and easy to eat after what they had been through.
"Salty."
"Is that what gave it away?"
Walter paused in the grating of the multitude of cheeses and looked around the kitchen, eyes landing on the old glass coffee maker that Hannibal liked to use. Something from the 1800's if Will's comments about how ridiculous the contraption was were anything to go by.
"Can I have a cup of coffee?" Walter asked, watching as Hannibal cracked an egg into the center of the flour volcano.
"Are you old enough for a cup of coffee?" Hannibal asked back. "Your dad would not approve."
"I killed two men. I think I am old enough to have a cup of coffee," Walter challenged.
"Very well," Hannibal receded without so much as a fight much to Walter's surprise. Even if Hannibal had said that Walter was free to make his own choices and Will had told him to challenge everything, he hadn't thought that his parents, his father above everything else, would bow out of the way so easily. "Just turn the handle to the left."
Walter lowered himself from the bar chair to the floor and went over to the machine, looking over it curiously, it reminded him of some weird beakers set that a mad scientist would have. Walter took one of the small glass mugs and filled it up, heading back to his seat.
"I would suggest a little cream or sugar," Hannibal offered, glancing up from the dough he was kneading. Walter gave a small shrug and took a sip of the drink, it hot and bitter like dirt over his tongue. He winced and was met with a knowing smile from Hannibal. "Just because we want you to start to question our authority does not mean that my advice has lessened in value."
Walter pushed his cup across the counter to Hannibal who wiped his hands off and took the cup over to the fridge to add a bit of cream and then to the pantry to add a cube of sugar. He stirred it with a small spoon before placing it back in front of Walter.
Walter took a hesitant sip and was pleasantly surprised at how much better it tasted. "It's perfect," he muttered, receiving a small airy laugh from Hannibal. "Like everything you make, it's perfect. That's how I knew. You wouldn't make something that wasn't perfect."
"I wouldn't?" Hannibal asked curiously.
"You're too much of a narcissist," Walter answered, watching as Hannibal paused for a moment, nothing longer, before going back to his work. "Father?"
"Yes, Walter?"
"I want to help you today."
Hannibal placed the pasta in the fridge to let it set and turned back around, cleaning up the cheeses that Walter had finished grating for him. "Help me?" Hannibal asked, unsure if he wanted to know exactly what Walter meant.
"Take care of the bodies," Walter clarified. "You're going to need help today just like you needed last night or however long ago this happened. I don't want to know what day it is." Hannibal leaned against the counter with his arms folded. "Dad can't help you. He needs to rest. Morgan can't be anywhere near that and like it or not, you need me. I'm here to help."
"I do not want your help, Walter."
Stern. Decided. Final.
Walter frowned and drank a little more of the coffee, it somehow made him feel a bit older than he really was. A stronger version of himself that could stand up to Hannibal. Did alcohol do the same? It was called liquid courage for a reason, wasn't it?
"This is something I need to do, need to learn."
"No." Hannibal shook his head. "It's not. And I am not going to let you. Your dad would have my head on a spike."
"You're scared of Dad?" Walter asked, tipping his head to the side, the sentence strange in his mouth. Hannibal wasn't scared of anything. Hannibal was the creature that went bump in the night. Hannibal was the monster that everything else was afraid of. Hannibal was a god with absolute command of his surroundings and he... wasn't scared of anything. Was he? "There's no reason for you to be afraid of Dad."
"You and Morgan are the reason that I am afraid of your dad," Hannibal explained, returning to cleaning up the kitchen as they waited for the pasta dough to continue to set. "Your dad is the embodiment of Jekyll and Hyde. He is the most docile person until you are involved and then he can become the evilest creature, devoid of any compassion or remorse. I do not wish to ever be on the other side of his Mr. Hyde."
Walter was quiet, finger tracing the edge of his cup as he took in the words. Hannibal wasn't wrong, though Walter had never put much of a thought to it. And the more he thought about how protective Wil was over the two of them, the more he realized just how far Will was willing to go for them.
Walter was certain now that watching Will stab that man over and over again had not been some fevered dream or manifestation of pain from being shot. Will really had killed that man to protect them. He had been around Will killing before, but never with an anger like that.
"Think of it as a bonding experience. Show me what the famous Chesapeake Ripper and Il Mostro di Firenze can do. Show me why people should be terrified of you, Hannibal," Walter taunted with a smile.
Hannibal frowned at the name. "Don't call me that. And the answer is still no, especially now."
Walter gave a small laugh. "I'm sorry, Father. You're just so easy to upset. It's funny."
"Your manipulation isn't funny, Walter."
"It's what you've taught me," Walter pointed out, resting his chin in his hand boredly. "I need to understand you."
"Why are you suddenly so interested in my work?" Hannibal's hands took the counter and he leaned across it towards Walter. "You've never been so demanding before."
"You gave me agency to think for myself," Walter pointed out. "I've been doing a lot of thinking. I've..." Walter trailed off, gaze lowering under the burn from Hannibal's. He was silent for a moment in thought. "I've always been malicious in a sense. I begged Will to kill the man you sent after my mom and me. Told him a hospital wasn't good enough."
"Did Will ever tell you that he did kill him?" Hannibal asked, pushing himself from the counter and picking up his own, unfinished, cup of coffee to take a sip. Walter's eyes were wide as he looked up and the boy shook his head. "It was-"
"Beautiful," a voice interrupted from the doorway to the kitchen. Walter turned to look at Will, who had his arms folded and Walter winced, curious how long his dad had been listening to their conversation.
"Go back to bed, Will," Hannibal instructed, cup going back to the counter. "You need to be resting. Your back-"
"I'm fine," Will insisted, giving Walter a small sense of relief. He hadn't been there for long, hadn't heard the things he had been saying to Hannibal, rather rudely. "Let Walter help you."
Walter froze, eyes wide and flicking over his dad who had never let Walter near anything of the sort before. Will had always been so careful with Walter. Walter could remember the Witch Hunter's case vividly.
The way Wil had made him stay close after he had found those bodies. The way Will made him stay inside of the house, away from Jordan and Casey, but far enough out of line that he couldn't see the murders. And then after, when Jordan and Casey had attacked him and his mother, Will didn't let Walter see what he had done. The blindfold had stayed on until Walter was outside of his grandparent's house. And after that when Margot and Alana were attacked, Will had hid them away, made sure that they didn't see anything, kept them safe and as innocent as he could. What had changed now?
"I'm sorry?" Hannibal asked in place of Walter who felt just the same amount of shock in his system as what Hannibal had allowed into his voice.
"I can't help you," Will supplied. "And I am going to have to take care of Morgan when he wakes up. This is more than one body; you can't do it alone."
"I am perfectly capable of-"
"Hannibal," Will stated resolutely, wrapping an arm around Walter's shoulders, and causing Walter to want to squirm out of the strong grip. Not because it hurt, but because it implied that Will was going to get his way, just as he always got his way. Hannibal was helpless against Will and Walter knew it, saw it daily. Even in the little things, not just the big things.
If Will wasn't pleased with a meal, which was rare, Hannibal would make him something else, no questions asked. Morgan and Walter had to eat what was given to them. If Will saw something in the newspaper he liked, or mentioned wanting something it would appear within the next day or two without another prompting. Morgan and Walter had to save what little money they had to purchase anything that they didn't outright need. Hannibal didn't splurge on them, but he did on Will. That was how Will had gotten his car, something very nice and very unneeded as Will didn't often leave the house unless it was to wander the grounds. If Will decided he wanted to go somewhere, Hannibal whisked him away. Granted, he always took Walter and Morgan along, but there were nights where they weren't allowed to go out with their parents, were left to their own devices in the hotel room until Will and Hannibal returned which sometimes wasn't until the next day.
Will always got exactly what he wanted, when he wanted it, no questions asked. No expense too high. No price tag too much. No request too ludicrous to not be taken care of. But Walter wondered if maybe this one was.
Hannibal's hands became fists and he frowned, eyes downturned to the floor. He inhaled and exhaled deeply, and Walter could see the cogs turning in his father's head. "Why?" Hannibal asked softly, not looking up. "This isn't something the boy needs to be a part of."
Will released Walter's shoulders and stepped around the counter and to Hannibal. Will's hands gently stroked over Hannibal's bare forearm, his other one wrapping around Hannibal's waist. He placed a calculated kiss to Hannibal's cheek, something soft, but Walter knew it was coaxing Hannibal into giving Will what he had asked for.
The kiss moved from Hannibal's cheek and to the man's jaw. Walter looked away for a moment, before his eyes flickered back to his parents. They had never been shy with their affection like Will had been with Molly. Walter couldn't exactly remember Will and his mother kissing more than a quick peck now and then, a light touch to an arm sometimes. Nothing like how Hannibal and Will were. Unashamed in their love.
Will's hand took Hannibal's cheek and pulled the man's face up so that Will could kiss him, still soft, still persuading and Walter watched as his father's shoulders visibility relaxed, giving in like he always did, surrendering to the only person in the entire world that could make him submit. But Will wasn't done. He always gave back, even if it was small. Will was never ungrateful.
"I will go back to bed and rest if you let Walter help you," Will offered, dragging Hannibal into his manipulation. Because that's really what it was, wasn't it? What Walter had shoved down his throat for the last two years? You control. You break down the other person, use fear, obligation, and guilt to get exactly what you want. Promise everything, take everything instead.
Say anything to get exactly what was wanted. Do anything to get what was yours. Use other people as your pavers to make your own path. But never lies. Right or wrong, there were never lies.
And Hannibal was just the same. Took as much from Will as he wanted as what Will took from him.
Hannibal had control. He told Will what to do, what to wear, and sometimes was unreasonably jealous when it came to Will's attention being more focused on Walter or Morgan, but Hannibal never said anything against it. Will always returned to him.
Hannibal was hostile at times. He enjoyed picking fights with Will, antagonizing him. There were never full-blown arguments. At least, not many that Walter could remember, only over the important things, not the petty things that Hannibal liked to bring up. Will could brush off Hannibal's attempts gracefully.
And there was the codependency. That was between both, just as aggressive on both sides, an excessive emotional and psychological reliance on each other. Neither of them were able to be away from the other for more than a day or two without crumbling. And they had never really been separated. Not since they had all run away together.
It was unhealthy. It was dangerous. It was... beautiful. Walter frowned at the idea, something so twisted that it was normal for him. Something that he thought was perfect. Two people so desperately in love with each other that they would do anything for each other and themselves. And maybe that wasn't love, but maybe he didn't really know what love was. Because as far as Walter was concerned, love was destruction, breathtaking in its many flaws.
"Go back to bed. I'll come check on you and Morgan in a bit," Hannibal instructed before he kissed Will once more, something deeper that made Walter shift in his chair and look down at his empty coffee cup.
Will pulled back with a small nod and released his grip on his husband. He walked back around the counter and his hand took the back of Walter's head, calling Walter's attention to him. He placed a kiss to Walter's head, whispering, "You do exactly as your father instructs you. He will keep you safe."
"Safe?" Walter asked curiously, but Will didn't answer. He simply released Walter and left the kitchen, his footsteps disappearing up the stairs. "You give into him too easily," Walter pointed out and Hannibal only nodded. "Why do you?"
"Because most of the time he's right," Hannibal answered in a small voice. "Let me look over your stitches and then help me make the pasta. We'll eat and then if you still want to know what I do, I will show you."
"Show me everything?" Walter questioned, turning in his chair for Hannibal to better see the bandages around his middle.
"Everything."
"Where's Wally?" Morgan asked when he had woken.
Will inhaled deeply, pulling himself from a light doze that he had agreed to go into just to please Hannibal. Will reached out a hand and stoked back some of the boy's dark hair. "He's with your father," Will answered in a whisper, unsure if he could make his voice go any louder. He felt weak and sick and tired, but he couldn't let the boys see that. He had to be strong for them. "How are you feeling?"
"Empty," Morgan answered without skipping a beat. "But that's better than being scared."
The words were cold in the way they were said as if the young boy had been upset with himself for feeling a normal reaction. Will's fingers continued to play with the boy's hair and he sighed. Morgan was different now. Will knew the moment that Morgan pulled that trigger the boy would be different, but he didn't think that it would be such a sharp turn off of emotions.
"Would you-"
"I'm hungry," Morgan stated, sitting up. "I'm going to get something to eat." Morgan pulled from the bed and Will let the boy go, his body in far too much pain to go after him. Morgan stopped at the edge of the bed and glanced back at Will. "Dad, whatever Wally tells you about what happened this weekend, don't believe him. I didn't do anything to help him. He's the reason we made it back. I panicked. But it won't happen again. I want you to take me on a trip next weekend. Us two. I need to pay better attention."
"We don't need to rush into anything," Will tried to assure, but Morgan simply shook his head, going for the door.
"Morgan," a new voice said at the door. Will rolled onto his back with a wince and an exhale through his teeth. "How are you feeling?"
"Fine," Morgan answered Hannibal's question.
"Will you go help your brother with the food? He's just finishing up the pasta."
"Alright."
There were retreating footsteps and then footsteps leading to the bed. Hannibal sat down on the edge and a hand reached out, brushing back Will's curls. Will gave a small smile and closed his eyes, relaxing into the gentle hold.
"I should probably cut my hair," Will said, voice still not above a whisper.
"I like it long."
"You just like having something to pull on when I'm disobeying you." Will smiled at a teasing tug on his locks. "I'm sorry for what I said in the kitchen. I just like to push you sometimes."
"You're not wrong," Hannibal said, getting from the bed and heading for the bathroom. He turned on the lights and dug through one of the cabinets for some painkillers. "Walter needs to learn. I just didn't think that he would need to learn it this early." Finding the bottle that Hannibal wanted, he returned to the room. "I just want to..."
"Keep them innocent?" Will suggested, opening his eyes to find Hannibal sitting back down. He opened the pill bottle and poured out a single pill, holding it out in an open palm. "I don't want any more medicine, Hannibal. I couldn't do anything when those people attacked us. I don't want to feel vulnerable like that again."
"Children shouldn't know the ways of the world this early in life. It's not fair to them," Hannibal agreed, hand still outheld. "It's codeine. It will help with the pain. And I will be here this time."
Will shook his head, hand reaching out and closing Hannibal's hand around the pill. "I don't want my mind to be foggy again, Hannibal."
"This is one time you don't get to fight me. I will make you take it if I have to Will," Hannibal warned. "This time being a doctor comes before being your submissive husband."
"You wouldn't," Will said with a small laugh, receiving a raised brow from Hannibal in challenge. "The only thing I am going to be putting in my mouth is whatever you are cooking and you wouldn't drug my food. It would ruin the dish."
"Will."
Will shook his head and Hannibal frowned.
Will watched curiously as Hannibal pulled his hand free from Will's and tipped his palm against his mouth. Hannibal leaned over Will and placed a kiss to Will's lips, hand quickly plugging Will's nose and tongue forcing its way between Will's lips.
He passed the pill into Will's mouth, not breaking the kiss, other hand resting against Will's throat to feel him swallow. Once satisfied and his tongue had checked Will's mouth to make sure he didn't hide the pill under his tongue like he liked to do, Hannibal pulled back, leaving Will gasping for air.
"Let me check your stitches, brangus berniuk," Hannibal instructed, receiving a dark glare from Will who was still breathing rather hard, the rising and falling of his chest painful. "We need to clean them and rebandage them, love. Then you can eat and rest."
"Hannibal." Will's tone was sharp.
"Hush, love." Hannibal placed a gentle kiss to Will's forehead and then down over the bridge of his nose, feeling the way that Will relaxed beneath him. A tender kiss at the side of Will's lips and Will sighed. "Let me take care of you."
"When are we going to start packing?" Will asked when Hannibal pulled away, carefully pulling at the bandages at Will's shoulder. "We need to leave-"
"Don't worry your mind over that at the moment," Hannibal instructed. "I will take care of everything. You just focus on getting better."
Dinner was nice. A light prosciutto pasta carbonara that both the boys had helped make. The hour was late, their sleep schedule utterly screwed, but work still needed to be done. Not that Will or Morgan could help. Hannibal rose from his chair at the head of the table when Will lowered his head into his hands, having been absolutely silent through dinner.
"Let's get you to bed," Hannibal said softly, helping Will to his feet. Walter glanced up from his food and saw a rather drugged look Will being pulled from the room. "Can you boys clean up his plate please?" Hannibal asked as he left. Hannibal must have given Will something to help with the pain. Walter had been given some Tylenol, nothing stronger despite the ache in his shoulder. Hannibal probably wanted Will to rest and Will definitely needed it.
Morgan got from the table, taking his setting and Will's to the kitchen to clean it and Walter sighed, taking another bite of the dish, just enjoying the feeling of something more filling than blackberries were.
The TV that was rarely ever on was turned on for Morgan after dinner was cleared, the young boy happily sat in front of it, promising to go to bed after an hour or so. They were all still so tired, so worn, but Walter knew what had to be done and how quickly it needed to be done as well.
Walter followed Hannibal down to the basement and back into Hannibal's locked room. Walter closed his eyes outside of the room and inhaled deeply, causing Hannibal to pause as he opened the door.
"You don't have to do this, Walter."
"I have to understand," Walter breathed out, a hand going to his head.
"You're too much like your dad," Hannibal muttered, turning back to face Walter fully. "You need to understand that some secrets can stay secrets. You don't have to know all of the answers."
Walter shook his head. "I need these answers."
"You won't like them."
"I know." Walter gave a determined nod.
Hannibal inhaled deeply and stepped through the door, leaving it open for Walter to follow. Walter's steps were small, Hannibal's large with purpose, disappearing into the freezer before Walter had entered the room.
"We have a lot to work through," Hannibal stated from the open freezer door that Walter slowly approached. "Normally you would want to drain the bodies before doing this, but we just didn't have the time. We're just going to have to clean a bit more than normal."
"Drain the bodies?" Walter asked, finally looking around the door to see Hannibal pulling the man from the hook, the sucking sound of it leaving flesh sounding like a knife cutting through chicken. Walter swallowed and looked to the ground only to find more frozen faces staring at him.
"Blood gets messy," Hannibal explained. "You drain it from the body and you can manipulate the body better."
"And..." Walter's mouth felt dry. "How did you figure this out?"
Walter looked up when his father's dress shoes appeared in his vision and came face to face with a serious looking Hannibal. "Practice." Walter stepped from the freezer, ignoring the chill to his body and closed the freezer door behind Hannibal, following Hannibal over to the band saw that had a rather large table. Hannibal set the man down and Walter moved a little closer, looking over the tool and wondering if Hannibal had it specifically made or if it was something you could just pick up for a butcher's shop.
"How do you drain the blood?"
Hannibal glanced at Walter over his shoulder, still fighting a small internal war on what he should answer for Walter and what he shouldn't. "There's many different ways," Hannibal settled on. "If you want something fast but messy, you can cut the femoral arteries and perform CPR. The heart will pump the blood, even if the heart is stopped, but I wouldn't suggest that."
"What do you do?"
"You take a scalpel and make a small incision near the right collarbone." Hannibal touched the area he was explaining on himself. "You want the common carotid artery and the internal jugular vein. Make an incision in each. Arterial tubes are placed in the artery directed towards the heart. I would use an embalming machine, it helps regulate the pressure and pushes out the blood through the jugular vein, cleanly and controlled."
Walter glanced around the room and his eyes stopped on one of the odd machines that he couldn't exactly place before, something that looked a bit like a blender. There were two knobs on the front as well as some tubing wrapped up beside it. That had to be it.
"And what are we going to do to them?" Walter motioned to the body that was waiting patiently for whatever fate Hannibal had decided for them.
"We're going to dismember them into very small pieces and spread them out through the forest on our property."
Walter gave another small nod at Hannibal's answers. He could feel his stomach starting to churn, but he pushed the feeling away. "I thought you liked to create art."
"When I am inspired." Hannibal rubbed at the back of his neck. "We don't have the time for that."
"And you eat them."
Hannibal's eyes met Walter's, feeling a little out of place. Strange. He had never even let Will in this close, Will having never wanted to know. Will was perfectly content to just accept Hannibal, he didn't feel the need to dig into the hows, he just wanted the whys.
Before Hannibal could answer, Walter continued.
"Do you feed us people?"
It was something that Walter had never considered and he wasn't exactly sure he had never considered it before. Wasn't sure where the want to ask the question had come from. Wasn't sure why he blurted it out. Was surprised at the shocked look on Hannibal's face. Did he really want the answer? No, not really, but if Hannibal was anything, it was honest. Always honest.
"Occasionally."
Walter gave yet another nod, accepting. He was just accepting everything that was told to him and Hannibal wasn't sure exactly how to react, what to feel, what else to say. He had never been in such a position before.
"We need to get to work," he finally announced. "Before the body defrosts. It will make it more difficult to clean if we wait."
Walter stepped closer and looked over the body. "Show me."
Hannibal licked his lips and flicked on the saw, it roaring to life. "You don't have-"
"Father, show me."