Chapter Text
Will ducked down behind a tree at the back of his shed as he heard the sirens increase in volume as they neared his house. He struggled to catch his breath and hastily reached into his pocket, flipping his phone over in his hand a couple of times. Think, think, think. Should I tell him? No… But…. He swore under his breath, shaking his head as he tried to decide.
He shakily looked down at his phone, his fingers flying across the screen as he nervously dialed Hannibal’s number. As Will listened to the dial tone, his stomach twisted itself into intricate little knots, unsure of what he should do. Hannibal picked up on the second ring.
“Hello?” came Hannibal’s voice, infused with an enviable calmness. And then, Will’s anxiety stopped. The cadence of Hannibal’s voice murmuring a single word stilled his hand and just like that, Will decided.
“They know,” Will said and just as quickly hung up the phone. He slid it back into his pocket, thinking. If warrants had been issued for his and Jack’s arrest, he didn’t have too many options. He had to leave now .
And yet, Will couldn’t shake the feeling that perhaps Jack was in trouble. Or maybe you’re just scared Hannibal is in danger- you could care less about Jack . Will shook his head, desperately trying to scatter the traitorous voice in his head. Will sighed as he stood, pulling his coat tightly around him and straightening out the gun resting against the small of his back.
He ran through the woods quickly before coming out to the road where he promptly called a taxi and gave the driver Hannibal’s home address. His foot tapped incessantly and he kept wringing his hands together, anxious to know Hannibal was safe. Yet Will couldn’t help but wish in the back of his mind that maybe- just maybe - Hannibal would be waiting for him to leave with him after all.
He rubbed his hands over his face and took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. He glanced at his watch. Jack would be arriving at Hannibal’s house in twenty minutes or so, soon after Will would arrive. Perhaps if Hannibal had waited for him after all, they could escape Jack with just enough time…
Will’s hopes were quickly quashed when he arrived at Hannibal’s house and saw Jack’s car parked in the road. Fuck .
Will’s blood turned to ice when something that looked suspiciously like a human body on the ground near the front door caught his eye. He stepped out of the taxi and ran through the rain before his stomach dropped when he saw Alana sprawled out on the ground, glass shards decorating the pavement around her. He dropped to his knees beside her, a horrified expression taking over his face as he took in the blood around her. She tried to say something but he quickly shushed her.
“Don’t talk, just breathe…” he said, whipping out his phone once again. “This is Will Graham. I need ERT at Hannibal Lecter’s residence.” He stared down at Alana again before taking off his coat and covering her with it to protect her from the rain. Alana managed to tell him that Jack was inside and he nodded, drawing his gun as he left her to enter the house.
Time seemed to stand still inside the house. Will tensed, listening closely for any sign of movement. There were none. He slowly rounded the corner leading to the kitchen and his eyes immediately fixated on the blood pooling by the pantry door. His immediate thought was of Hannibal. No, please… He began to walk toward the door but he froze as he saw a shadow out of the corner of his eye. He looked over and his stomach dropped as his mouth fell open with utter disbelief. It can’t be…
Abigail stood in the corner of the kitchen, shaking and very visibly distraught. Will’s heart stumbled as he rapidly tried to process everything he was feeling. His heart felt as if it were breaking and pulling itself back together simultaneously. Through the confusion clouding his brain, he finally understood . He understood then that Hannibal had intended to surprise him, to reunite them- if Will had just agreed to flee the country with Hannibal as he had been so desperately tempted to do.
“Abigail?” came Will’s strained voice. She began to shake more and tears fell down her face.
“I didn’t know what else to do. So I did what he told me.”
Will stared at her in bewilderment as he tried to understand what Hannibal had told her to do. Suddenly, the thought connected, and Alana laying outside bleeding out in the rain made all the more sense. Righteous anger engulfed Will’s body as he began to see red, longing to lash out at Hannibal for subjecting Abigail to the pain.
“Where is he?” Will ground out. Abigail’s eyes shifted minutely to the side before glancing dejectedly back at him. Will could feel Hannibal behind him and as the awareness of his presence began to seep into Will’s bones, he could feel his own anger begin to dissipate, confusion taking over. Will began to slowly turn towards Hannibal, not even bothering to bring up his gun, knowing he’d be unable to use it.
“You were supposed to leave,” Will said emphatically, disbelief clouding his face. His mouth fell further open as he gazed upon the heartache so visibly sketched on Hannibal’s visage.
“We couldn’t leave without you” Hannibal said softly, his eyes tracing over Will’s face with uncharacteristic vulnerability. Will felt himself glued to the spot, unable to move from mere captivation in watching Hannibal’s expressions.
Hannibal slowly brought his hand up to Will’s face and cupped his cheek, stroking his thumb along it softly. Will gazed wide-eyed back at him, his breath hitching just slightly in his throat at the intimacy of the gesture. Will couldn’t help but believe Hannibal was about to lean in and kiss him. Hannibal had waited for him, just as he had hoped…
But that hope was shattered as Will felt the cold steel of a sharp blade pierce his stomach, the coolness quickly turning to heat as it ripped across his abdomen. Will let out a cry and slumped forward as he absentmindedly registered his blood beginning to pour out of him at alarming speed, drenching his shoes. Hannibal swept forward to catch him, gripping Will in his strong arms and resting his chin on Hannibal's shoulder.
Will brought up one arm to clasp tightly to Hannibal’s shirt, clutching on to the man desperately. He felt Hannibal hold him gently, almost tenderly , which only served to wound Will more. Hannibal’s hands stroked the back of his head and Will felt desperately tempted to sink into that feeling, to allow it to claim him. Hannibal placed his own chin on Will’s shoulder and began to speak into his ear.
“Time did reverse. The teacup that I shattered dared to come together. A place was made for Abigail in your world. Do you understand?”
Will shook his head, though it wasn’t from a total lack of understanding as much as it was a desire for Hannibal to hold him for just a while longer. Hold me in your arms while I die, Hannibal. Please.
“A place was made for all of us, together.” Hannibal pulled back to look at Will in his eyes. Will stared back at him helplessly as he began to feel himself shatter as the teacup he was. Again.
“I wanted to surprise you,” Hannibal added. Will’s heart twisted and he felt the weight of the world fall upon him, filling his lungs with grief over what could have been. He gasped for breath, realizing it could very well be blood filling his lungs instead.
“But you… you wanted to surprise me,” Hannibal said, his face twisting into the micro-expressional equivalent of a grimace as he let Will fall to the floor. Will thudded against the ground and pulled himself back to sit against the kitchen cabinets as he clutched at his stomach, trying to slow the bleeding.
Dark red blood covered his arms and Will felt his life began to flicker. He sputtered, trying to gather every ounce of self-will to just hold on for a little while longer. He looked up at Hannibal as his empathy pulled him to the man once again, unwilling to allow himself to detach from the man killing him.
“I let you see me,” Hannibal said, voice thick with raw emotion. The display broke something inside of Will too and he continued to watch with horror, horror at his own responsibility for this outcome, and for the pain he had caused to Hannibal.
“I let you know me,” Hannibal continued. “ See me. I gave you a rare gift, but you didn’t want it.”
“Didn’t I?” Will protested. Surely Hannibal must know that everything he had felt had been real? Surely Hannibal must know how much I care.
Hannibal gazed at him, considering, before his lip curled minutely.
“You would deny me my life.”
“N-n-no. Not your life, no,” Will said, shaking his head insistently.
“My freedom then, you would take that from me,” Hannibal said, anger coloring his tone. “Confine me to a prison cell.”
Pain seared through Will’s abdomen once again and he clutched at the gasp dissecting him roughly, praying that he wouldn’t die. He closed his eyes and began to shake with the pain, the red-hot discomfort spreading through the rest of his body.
“Do you believe you could change me, the way I changed you?” Hannibal asked, curiosity apparent in his tone. Will brought his head up to look at Hannibal, confident in his answer.
“I already did,” Will said, knowing that no one else could have caused Hannibal to feel as much as the man was feeling at this moment. Hannibal took in his answer, mulling over it, before recognition of its validity shone in his eyes. He moved his lips as if he were thinking of a reply before pausing, momentarily unsure of what to say. But then he lifted his chin, intent on regaining the upper hand.
“Fate and circumstance have returned us to this moment, when the teacup shatters.”
Will stared intently up at Hannibal, a whirlwind of emotions flowing through him. He felt anger towards the man, for managing to shatter him once again. He also felt an overwhelming desire to be held by him. Startling too was the fear that gripped him, the fear that this could be it, that he could die tonight, and never see Hannibal again. Desperate for that not to be true, Will steeled himself and looked defiantly up at Hannibal. Hannibal gazed at him intensely.
“I forgive you, Will. Will you forgive me?”
A chill coursed through his blood, fighting for dominance over the heat of the pain, as Will realized what Hannibal was about to do.
“Don’t. D-don’t. No. No,” Will began to say, shaking his head as he pleaded with Hannibal. Hannibal merely held out his hand for Abigail who slowly walked toward it and took it. Hannibal then held her against him, her back to his chest, as he wound his other arm around her and held the knife to her throat.
“No, no, no!” Will shouted, desperate for Hannibal to stop. He began to sob, knowing that Hannibal wouldn’t listen to him. His sobs grew more hysterical as he watched Hannibal cut into Abigail’s throat, slicing her just as her father had, all while maintaining eye contact with Will, willing him to feel the pain Hannibal himself felt over Will’s betrayal.
Abigail began to sputter and gulp as blood sprayed out from her throat, falling across Will’s face. Will felt the hot drops of blood hit him and felt his heart physically break within him. Hannibal lowered Abigail to the floor and she clutched at her throat desperately before he knelt in front of Will as he groaned in pain, made infinitely worse by his own emotional distress and the pain his empathy was drawing into himself from Hannibal’s heart.
“You can make it all go away,” Hannibal said as Will watched a tear fall from Hannibal’s eye. “Put your head back. Wade into the quiet of the stream.”
Hannibal then stood back up, cast one last look down at Will, and left.
Will felt the last of his soul shatter and attempt to chase after Hannibal as he watched him leave from the corner of his eye. He then glanced over at Abigail and began to crawl with all his might towards her. When he reached her, he lifted his hand to cup her throat in an attempt to stop the bleeding.
But he soon began to feel his own life seep from him. I called ERT for Alana. They should be here any minute. Just hold on. Yet the pull of the quiet of the stream was too tempting an offer. He felt his arm fall from Abigail’s neck and lower itself to the floor. He suddenly realized he could no longer move.
As he watched his blood mix with Abigail’s and coat the floor of Hannibal’s kitchen, he saw the ravenstag appear across from him. The beast lay on its side, huffing as it struggled to breathe, its blood seeping out to join theirs.
He fixated on it, willing the sight to keep him alive. The stag reminded Will of his own dark connection with Hannibal, and the mere thought of the connection was enough to give him sustenance and renew him with a fight to last just a little while longer. He heard what could only be ERT bust through the front door and begin running to the kitchen.
His vision began to blur and the stream began to become more clear. He vaguely registered arms lifting him onto a gurney and placing an oxygen mask over his face. He heard the voices of several people begin to run together before the voices were no longer voices; instead, the only thing he was aware of was the gurgling of a stream.
***
Will blinked his eyes open against a bright white light. As his vision became more clear, he realized he was taking in the sight of sunlight filtering through the windows of his home. He sat up in bed and stretched deeply. He felt as if he had dreamt a terrible dream the night before, though he couldn’t remember what exactly it had been about…
Shrugging it off, Will stood and went to greet his dogs. Yet as he approached them all snuggled in their beds, Buster whipped his head up and began to growl, low and deep. The other dogs, sensing his distress, also awoke and fixed their eyes on Will, likewise beginning to growl. Will felt his hairs stand up on end. What the fuck?
“Guys, it’s me, it’s alright,” he cooed at them. Winston stopped growling and tilted his head in confusion. Will smiled and reached out to pet him and stumbled backwards with a yelp as he watched his hand go through Winston’s head.
Shaking his head in disbelief, Will pulled himself to his feet and tried it again, watching with horror as he saw his hand pass completely through Winston, unfeeling. Winston didn’t react either, clearly in a similar state of not being able to feel Will’s touch.
Will then turned slowly to his other dogs and found that the case was the same with each dog. He then walked over to the front door, increasingly panicked, and felt a scream gather under his chin, waiting to be released, as he saw his hand disappear through the door before pulling it back.
Will sank to the floor, curling in on himself. What happened last night? He immediately began to wonder if he was incredibly high, or drunk, or possibly both. When he scrunched his eyes in concentration, memories began to slowly float from the heavens and seep back into his mind. He pulled each memory forward and viewed it, attempting to gather a story.
Soon, all the memories were slotted into their rightful place. He felt a deep wave of sadness, hurt, and anger as he thought about what Hannibal had done to Abigail. To him. The last thing he was able to regain memory of was of the paramedics picking him up and placing him on a gurney to take him to the hospital.
Will steepled his hands under his chin, deep in thought. A cold, prickling sense of dread began to run from the tips of his fingers down to his toes before settling deep in his chest. He stood and slowly lifted his shirt, his heart sinking when he saw his skin was perfectly clear, no gash in sight. No scar. As if it had never happened.
Or, more accurately, as if it had happened, but that Will simply hadn’t lived to tell the tale.
Will slowly walked to his bathroom and stood in front of his mirror, his eyes stubbornly shut. When he finally acquired the courage to open them, he immediately regretted it. There was no reflection staring back at him.
Will laid down on his floor and stared at the ceiling. I’m dead. Hannibal killed me. And now I’m fucking stuck here. The same thoughts kept replaying in his mind as he tried to digest the fact that he had actually died . If he had died, that no doubt meant that Abigail was dead too, for she had been even worse off than him. He wondered if she was stuck behind too or if she had simply… gone on.
Will stared into Winston’s eyes, eerily devoid of Will’s reflection. He was grateful dogs at least had the ability to see and sense ghosts, though he was beginning to become increasingly anxious over the fact that his dogs would be hungry and he was incapable of grabbing the food to feed them. Surely someone would come to get his dogs after hearing of his death?
He paced across his house anxiously, wondering what he was going to do next. Curious, he walked up to his front door and steeled himself before slowly putting his foot out and through the door, satisfied when he didn’t feel anything concerning. He then leant forward and stepped all the way through the door, breathing a sigh of relief as he realized he was able to walk in and out of his house with ease despite not being able to physically open the door handle. At least the four corners of his small house weren't destined to be his permanent hell. At least he could come outside and view the sky.
Will sat on the front porch for sometime, staring solemnly at the clouds. When he began to hear the sound of a car headed down the road to his house, he stood up, glancing curiously. He felt an overwhelming sense of relief when he realized it was an FBI car, and was even more relieved- dare he say happy- when he saw Jimmy and Z step out of the car.
Yet the elation at seeing them quickly disappeared as he saw grief etched across their faces. They walked to the back of the car and grabbed a handful of leashes. Will’s heart sank when he realized what was happening.
Jimmy and Z were uncharacteristically quiet as they walked toward Will’s front porch. Will stood up and looked at them from in front of the door, but their eyes slid right past him, unseeing.
“Jimmy!” Will called. Nothing.
“Zeller!” Will shouted desperately. No response.
Jimmy and Z walked into his house and began leashing his dogs, murmuring gently to them.
“Brian?” Jimmy said.
“Yes?” Z said, sullen.
“Can we keep them?”
Will’s brows knit together in confusion. We?
Z looked over at Jimmy, his face softening. He walked over and pulled Jimmy against his chest, running his hands up and down Jimmy’s back soothingly before pulling back and nodding down at him.
“Jimmy, I don’t know… are you sure you want to do that? I mean, wouldn’t it just be painful to have them around all of time, constantly reminding us of yet another friend we’ve lost?”
Friend? Will’s eyes widened as he realized his death was already being felt by others. He had assumed it wouldn’t.
“Well, I think having them around might be nice… I know it’ll be hard for a while, but after taking in Beverly’s cat, I think it’d only be natural to take in Will’s dogs too. And it would be a great way to remember Will, to feel like he’s still around, in some way. I’m sure Jack would like to come spend some time with the dogs too, once he’s recovered” Jimmy said, gazing up at Z imploringly.
Will’s eyes widened in disbelief. Jack’s alive?
Z slowly nodded in agreement.
“I think Will would like that, that people he knew are looking after his dogs,” Z said. Will smiled sadly, wanting so badly to thank them. He felt tears begin to gather at the corner of his eyes.
“Yeah, I hope that he knows, somehow,” Jimmy said, sniffling. “Thanks, Brian,” Jimmy added before raising himself up to plant a soft kiss to Z’s lips. Oh . Will hadn’t even known they were together, much less had lived together long enough to adopt his dogs. Jesus what else did I miss?
Jimmy and Z corralled the dogs and beckoned them out to the car. Will watched in dismay as the dogs began to protest against being put inside the car. They began to whine and looked back at Will, pulling on their leashes in an attempt to run back to him.
“Go on, guys, go with them,” Will urged, his voice cracking.
Z and Jimmy began to pick up the dogs and place them into the car. Will held his arms close to his chest as he watched them being loaded in. As if sensing his distress, Winston broke away from the rest of the pack and ran back to the porch, sitting directly in front of Will. Will bent down and looked at him, a lopsided smile on his face.
“Hey buddy,” Will said. “You take care of the rest of the pack, okay? And look after Z and Jimmy for me too. You’re such a good boy, I love you, Winston” Will said, reaching out his hand before remembering he wouldn’t be able to feel him and then dropping it dejectedly. Winston cocked his head to the side but seemed to understand Will uncannily well as he stood and trotted back over to the car and hopped in to join the rest of the pack.
Will’s heart sank as he watched Jimmy and Z pull out of the driveway, Winston’s head visibly watching Will through the window. Will reluctantly turned away and materialized back through his door.
With his dogs gone, Will sat on the rug in his living room floor and looked at the empty space where the dog beds should be forlornly. Emotion gripped him tightly and he felt tears begin to stream down his face and sobs began to rack his body. He shakily brought his arms up and wrapped them around himself in a desperate attempt to console himself. But it was no use. He fell to the ground and lay on his side in a fetal position, hugging his knees to his chest.
You took everything from me, Hannibal. You took Abigail. You took my life. You took you.
He wiped angrily at his tears. He wanted nothing more than to make Hannibal pay for everything he had done, for wrecking his life. He stood abruptly and walked to the door again and glared at it, willing it to move. It did not.
He began to pace relentlessly. Surely there has to be a way to move stuff? Ghosts do that shit, don’t they?
He stuck out his hand, aimed at the door, and tried to open it once again. He shook his head in frustration. But a thought suddenly occurred to him that he may be trying way too big. He moved to his desk and his eyes finally settled on a penny. He held out his hand- feeling incredibly ridiculous- and tried to manipulate energy through his hand that would move the penny.
After several hours of this, when the sun had begun to set, Will felt a surge of anger and mentally told the penny to move as his hand gestured at it roughly. Then, to Will’s amazement, the penny moved . It hadn’t moved much, but it had moved. Will grinned, feeling so relieved he could cry tears of joy. With time and practice, Will was sure he’d be able to at least move items around him with some degree of success. Like a proper ghost.
As Will laid in bed that night- or rather hovered above it languidly- he resolved that he would learn how to move and manipulate the world around him. And after that, he’d hunt Hannibal down to the ends of the earth and haunt the bastard for the rest of his life.