Chapter Text
Will regrets, the moment he takes a step off the bluff, he is filled with remorse. He sees the ocean swell and thrash against the cliff; a wordless promise that the depths will be their tomb.
His last penitence in life is this free fall into the abyss. It’s not the first of his though; he’s accumulated so many over the years. When did his first edge of remorse appear?
Turning Hannibal away at Wolf Trap. Was that the start…
No.
His regret began at a different time, further in the past.
In Hannibal’s kitchen, where he was gutted, where Abigail bled out in front of him, where Hannibal had walked out of his life.
No. There are pangs of remorse there, but it wasn’t the start. It was earlier.
Was it when they were burning papers in his office. Where he stood close to Hannibal, so that he could to smell his betrayal that had seeped into his clothes and hair. Where Hannibal offered forgiveness to him, that didn’t come at the end of a blade or require a blood sacrifice. The pardon had been given to him, but he threw it away because he was afraid…
No. His regrets were laid earlier than that.
Sending Mathew Brown after Hannibal to show he had the power to hurt him, even incarcerated. Though he knew it wouldn’t work, he set it up so it wouldn’t, but he came close to erasing Hannibal from the world. When he found out that Hannibal had survived, a small part of him had been relieved, a part of him that shone through the anger and the rage.
No. His regret didn’t start there either.
Did it begin at the start of his therapy, not admitting that he liked killing Garret or when he was being abrasive when they first met, or could it be not realising what he felt when he was with Hannibal. Not daring to put a name to his feelings that bloomed at the mere thought of him.
No. It was before he even knew Hannibal’s name.
He regrets not finding Hannibal sooner, not discovering him when he was all alone. Not even daring to think there is a compliment to his personality roaming the world, alone, just as he is.
The wind burns his eyes.
The moment in the moonlight was perfect. In Hannibal’s arms he had finally felt at peace, but at the same time the scene overwhelmed him. He saw the future laid out before them. The murder, the destruction and bodies that they would leave in their wake together. How could he subject the world to their mayhem, and they were so close to the edge, the fall…it could almost be called an accident.
Saltwater licks at Will’s cheek.
He should never have thrown them off the cliff. The thought of their destruction should never have entered his mind, let alone act on it.
The turbulent blue transforms to a harsh black in his sights. He doesn’t want to see the end, but he’s afraid to look up and lay his eyes on Hannibal’s face. He doesn’t want his final moments of them together to be of accusations and anger, but to not see him one last time, to not look into his beautiful maroon eyes even if they are filled with anger, that is a regret he doesn’t want to experience. His stomach squirms and his fingers twitch. Will looks up and his breath leaves him.
Hannibal has a smile on his face, eyes closed, and an aura of peace surrounds him. Will tightens his hold around Hannibal’s middle; he concentrates on his warmth, the beating of his heart in his ears. Hannibal’s arms cocoon around him. He feels safe. Will can’t stop the smile that spreads from ear to ear, though his stomach is in his feet as Hannibal’s eyes caress him that say to him I live to die at your hands and only your hands.
Oh. How did he not see it before? How could he be so blind, he’s in love with this man. The words forming in his mind about how wishes he had more time with him, time to tell him that he is in love with him. Do away with metaphor and implications, to say I love you to him. He opens his mouth.
Will slams into the water, the water bites at him; it swipes and howls him to leave this place and returns up above. Will pants as he breathes in the sea air. The water laps at his chin and lets out a laugh, a grin plastered on his face.
‘Hannibal, Hannibal we made it,’ Will shouts out breathlessly into the night. He wants to celebrate this moment with him, tell Hannibal he loves him, tell him he’s going with him now and he will never leave his side. But there’s no answer to his call, just the sound of water. His grin cracks away and he can hear his heart in his ears. He spins around, but Hannibal isn’t anywhere in sight. He’s still below. Will takes a deep breath and dives back into the abyss.
In the darkness he searches, the water presses down on him as he fights against the air in his lungs to return him to the surface. He squints in the darkness and he sees a shape, large and intimating. Will swims. He grabs Hannibal by the shoulders. He kicks, pulls, and pushes against the pressure of the ocean. The light from the moon shines in his sights, a guide in the darkness.
He thrashes against the hold of the ocean, and he breaks the watery ceiling. He gasps in the precious air that he’s been deprived of. Angling Hannibal’s head up, one arm curled around his head, the other slices through the waves. He feels there’s something wrong but until the reach land he won’t be able to see. The beach is but a few kicks away but a marathon to get to.
Electricity thumbs through Will’s veins as he pulls Hannibal up on the shore and he see’s what he felt. His chest isn’t moving. Will opens Hannibal’s mouth wide and looks down; his throat is filled with sand.
He pushes Hannibal to his side and water drains from his nose and mouth. Will rolls him onto his back, places lips on Hannibal’s soft red and breathes out.
Hannibal thrashes in his grip and water floods out from his mouth, his body goes limp once more but now his chest rises.
Will slumps by his side. He breathes in sync with Hannibal’s. He gazes up at the night sky.
Will turns to Hannibal, his face calm in the moonlight, small breaths escaping through his lips that bring a smile to Will’s lips. He would love to see his beautiful eyes again, the maroon with flecks of red that always enraptured him and pulled him into Hannibal’s orbit so he could experience every part of him. His voice, his view of the world, he just as to wait for him to wake up and he would tell him that he’s ready now.
Will reaches out to Hannibal. His hand moving down to capture his limp one, but his eyes catch red and he sits up. New blood stains his jumper. He scrambles for the edge of the fabric and pushes it up to see a steady stream of red flow. He needs medical attention.
Will drapes Hannibal over his shoulder, his weight, and his light breaths against his ear, make butterflies dance in his stomach. How had he blinded himself to the yearning that has dwelled in for all this time. Will shakes his head to get rid of those thoughts. Now is not the time for how and why, he needs to stay focused on the task ahead.
Will’s frantic pace is slowed by Hannibal’s weight. He sees a car parker, a man asleep draped over the wheel, the door unlocked. Will lays Hannibal down by the backdoor and opens the driver’s side, a bottle falls out and smashes on the ground. The balding man doesn’t move an inch and Will reads the scene before him.
My wife nags at me constantly. The kids are loud. I need a moment of peace and quiet with a friend I paid for. I need to figure out how to escape this life. I never wanted this. Why did I chase it.
Will removes him from the seat and dumps him on the ground. He shuffles Hannibal into the back seat, laying him flat as to not exacerbate his injuries. Will gets in the driver’s side with a bang, starts the car and drives off.
In the rearview mirror he see’s a shadowy figure and tell-tale sign of a phone lighting up the night. He slams the wheel in frustration. Should he go back and kill that person. Will shakes his head, no. Ending their lives wouldn’t reverse the phone call; it would just slow them down, take precious minutes away from Hannibal’s treatment and finding a place to do that.
His mind circles through the list of where he can patch up Hannibal. He can’t go back to the cliff house. Returning to the scene of a crime is a sure way to get caught. Though people don’t know where it is, he’s sure that eventually the helicopters shall come out and they will spot the corpse on the bluff. And as incompetent as the police are, they will put two and two together of where they came from to the parking lot.
They should be running together off into the night, not one on the verge of death and the other lost without them. Another regret to the piles and piles that he’s built up in his mind.
Will shakes his head. No, he can’t dwell on the things he should have done or shouldn’t. They are here now and he has to focus on the road ahead, although that is difficult. His attention divided between the road ahead and the slight breaths that wander into his ears, his eyes gazing into the rearview mirror to see the shallow movement of Hannibal’s chest, to make sure that he is still breathing.
Will drives down twisted roads and dirt roads, arriving at his once home, although technically it still is. He never did have the heart to sell it. The memories that were tied to his boat are too precious to scatter.
He parks behind the shed, out of view. He releases himself and Hannibal from the metal confines. He drags Hannibal up the steps and into the house, the weight a comfort to Will as he knows he’s right by him. The door opens with a creak and shuffles inside. The door slams behind him. With a frown, he places Hannibal on his dusty bed.
He moves Hannibal’s clothes to check over his wound. It’s still gushing blood.
Will tastes copper in his mouth. The frantic beat of his heart goes wild in his chest. No, that’s the thunder of his feet on the wood. In a blink of his eye, a bucket filled with hot water, and a first aid kit appears before him on the bedside table.
Will turns Hannibal to his side and takes a deeper inspection of his wounds; the bullet has gone clean through him but other than that he can’t tell if that is a good or bad. Will dabs at the bullet holes and stitches him up. He places bandages on him and lays him back down again.
‘Please Hannibal,’ Will says, his words strained and broken, ‘I don’t want to lose you again.’ Will takes Hannibal’s hand; his thumb caresses the indent between the thumb and finger. Will’s eyes trace from the curvature of his wrist, up to his placid face and red lips, which are parted and release breaths that carry weight in their gruff exhales.
A pit opens up in his stomach, his fingers twitch and his mind races, trying to figure out how to solve this mess, but comes up with none. He has to wait for him this time.
Will lets out a chuckle. Is this how Hannibal feels when was absent from his life, wondering when or if he’s going to show him those beautiful eyes to him today or will another day pass by without him being there…No wonder Hannibal’s is labelled insane. These questions can only lead to madness.
Will feels words bubbling up his throat but they refuse to spill out. He wants Hannibal to wake up, so he can hear him say what needs to be said.
Will let’s out a chuckle that echo’s off the walls, thoughts in his head quiet and all he can hear is his laboured breaths and pounding of Hannibal’s heart or is that just his own. He can’t tell. The thuds grow louder and breaths change to gasps and Hannibal’s eyes open wide.
‘Will,’ Hannibal whispers out and his eyes flicker open.
‘Hannibal I-’A blue and red light shines on Hannibal’s face and Will’s stomach drops into his shoes, his words cut in his throat. How did they find them, he was so careful.
‘Wait here, I’ll deal with this.’ Will reluctantly moves from Hannibal’s side to the windows; he moves the curtain’s an inch and see’s that the cavalry has come for them with Jack at the front, stepping out onto the snow-covered ground.
‘Damn it,’ curses Will. Someone must have spotted them while they were driving.
He notes the harsh black vehicles, the plates false, the side’s blank of any federal identity. Verger. Will shakes his head. Alana, that petty little thing that she had become in her own metamorphosis, her sanctimonious rightness that she wore as armour all those years, how it gleamed now. As though she didn’t kill a man for a fortune and used that power to become Hannibal’s keeper.
Will grits his teeth and clenches his fists.
How she lorded herself over Hannibal all these years, building him an enclosure to keep him in. A place she could dissect him, make him feel small as if had once done to her. All crafted to cause harm to his sensibilities and inevitably fail, because she couldn’t understand him. Only he had that power to harm him, to hurt him, to make him bleed in all the ways the mattered. No one else did because he understood him.
‘WILL COME OUT NOW!’ Jack Screams. Will purses his lips and grits his teeth. How dare Jack come here and tell him to give up his other half, the one who understood him. ‘WE HAD A PLAN AND NOW WE HAVE A HANDFUL OF DEAD AGENTS, A DEAD SERIAL AND A LIVE ONE.’ Jack lets out a loud huff that is filled with exasperation. ‘YOU NEED TO STOP THIS…INSANITY AND LET THIS FINALLY END.’ Stop now, when he finally understood what he wanted, after all the pain and heartbreak, if Jack really cared about him he would let him go, but that would require Jack to see him as a person and not a tool.
Jack has used him sense they met, wanting him in his corner but refuses to treat him.
Always undermined his analysis when it was unpalatable, always touching him without permission and leaving him to rot when he needed him most. Not even visiting out of friendship or loyalty, only wanting answers, only seeking to fuel his own ego, and he was the tool Jack used to achieve that purpose.
He was sick of being that tool.
‘Sorry Jack, I can’t do that,’ Will states in a calm tone, though he knows Jack won’t hear him, though it wouldn’t matter even if he did. He never listened to him. ‘I suggest you leave now before you lose your life.’ Will raises the gun, putting him in his sights.
‘THIS ISN’T YOU WILL.’ He can’t decide if this is Jack’s delusion taking over or his own self-denial. ‘THINK OFF YOUR WIFE, THINK OF YOUR SON, THINK OF YOUR FAMILY.’ Will hadn’t, and he would rather keep it that way.
‘Wil-l.’ He hears his name being called out to him in that soft tone that makes his stomach flutter and his mind fill only with Hannibal. Will turns around. Hannibal is hobbling over to him and he lowers the gun, his finger leaves the trigger.
‘Hannibal,’ Will gasps out, ‘I’ll distract Jack and you-‘
Bang
Will feels blood on his check, he see’s Hannibal on the ground, a bullet in his head, eyes not moving, and his chest still. The world is suddenly too loud and too quiet at the same time. He needs out of this world, out of this mess he has descended into. Will raises his gun and sets his sights on Jack, whose back is turned to him and is yelling at someone.
‘My regret is not having killed you when I was given the chance.’ He fires his gun. The window breaks again. Jack slumps to the ground but his arm raises, holding a gun in his direction. Two bangs and Will plunges to the ground, fire spreads up from his chest, he looks down to see blood gush spouting and drenching his shirt.
Will glances to Hannibal who's now beside him. Blood pools around his head like a halo. Tears race down his cheeks.
‘I wish I was different when we met, that I knew how important you were going to become to me.’ Will reaches an arm out to him, although Hannibal can’t reach back for him.
‘I don’t regret the moments with you. I regret the ones without you. I wish that time could reverse time and all that we have obtained could travel with us and change this moment, because I want a world with you,’ Will gasps out. ‘I want that world. Can you make it for me?’ Will asks.
The burn from his bullet wound morphs into a cold numbness. The edges of the world turn black and the sight of Hannibal fades away.