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The news reaches Will of Hannibal’s escape from the BSHCI as he’s getting ready to head home from work for the last time. He wishes it surprises him far more than it does, though he makes sure his expression displays only carefully arranged shock with eyes wide enough to sell the performance. Inside, all he feels is a weary sense of inevitability – Hannibal’s escape isn’t a revelation to him, it’s a certainty he has simply been awaiting the fulfilment of.
In all honesty, what surprises Will the most is that it’s taken this long. Hannibal has been incarcerated for nearly eight months now and this is his first attempt at escape. A part of Will had doubted he’d remain in custody for more than a day or two, but clearly something had kept him there. Something had ensured Hannibal remained in his cell and continued to play the role of prisoner – entirely of his own volition of course, Will is under no illusion that Hannibal wouldn’t have been perfectly capable of leaving whenever he wished. Something had compelled him to stay, some unseen design that Will doesn’t pretend to understand; all he does know, is that it was a choice, and it hadn’t been one of weakness – Hannibal never does anything he doesn’t want to do.
The FBI is on high alert, agents rushing around with handlers barking orders across the room, everyone’s focus fixed entirely on apprehending their most infamous prisoner. This chaotic state made the perfect moment for Will to slip out unnoticed. He feels no real urgency to help speed up the capture of Hannibal. They all know - loathe as they are to admit it - that Will is their only true hope of doing so, yet they had discarded him anyway. ‘Let them sweat’ he thinks ‘let them chase shadows and crumble under the pressure’.
For now, Will just wants some peace. He hopes for a few days to himself before Jack inevitably comes knocking on his door, desperation outweighing his pride, demanding his assistance. Heading to the car, Will allows himself a dangerous luxury – the thought that maybe he doesn’t want Hannibal to be caught at all.
Will is done with the FBI. He has spent too many years serving them - initially being deemed “too unstable” for field work and being relegated to the classroom instead, where they had hoped to contain his mind and twist his skills into something a little more palatable. Only to have him dragged back out as a ‘consultant’ when it suited them, a role where his mental stability was nobody’s priority and his entire worth rested upon his ability to capture the worst of the world’s killers.
They had chipped away at his mind, stripping him of everything but what they deemed useful enough to keep. Will had become a shadow of himself under their rule and only the entrance of Hannibal into his life had altered that.
Don’t get him wrong, Will remains livid, and probably always would, at Hannibal’s own treatment of him. The manipulations and cruel methods of moulding him into the man he wanted purely for the joy of the experiment. Yet throughout their time together, Hannibal still maintained his position of care. He stood by Will’s side as he lost himself in the mind of killers and the burning of his own brain, and encouraged him to release the man Will had spent his life trying to bury.
His methods were wrong, unforgivable in every way, but at least Hannibal respected Will as an individual, and when Hannibal had peeled back enough layers to reveal who Will truly was, he treasured him for it.
Will had understood Hannibal’s plan well enough. Framing him for the Chesapeake Ripper’s murders was meant to be a distraction, a labyrinth of false evidence created to keep the Bureau chasing its own tail, allowing Hannibal to slip back into the shadows. What Hannibal hadn’t anticipated, was how little resistance there would be. Jack and his team hadn’t fought for Will, hadn’t questioned the neatness of the evidence provided. They had simply accepted it and locked him away like an animal.
There was a trial of course, but it was a formality at best; a performance staged for the public to reinforce their belief in the justice system. Kade Prunell’s words to Will when he was chained up in the cage summed up their attitude perfectly: “The point of the trial isn’t so much whether or not you did it; it’s whether or not you knew what you were doing when you did it.” Innocence was never on the table, for the Bureau wasn’t interested in truth - only in closure, and in congratulating themselves for catching the ‘Killer’.
Will had fought for himself, even whilst still healing from the encephalitis. He had pushed forward evidence, near damning in its clarity, pointing to Hannibal’s guilt. But no one listened. His voice was drowned out by the Bureau’s hunger for certainty, their need to believe they had solved the Chesapeake Ripper case once and for all.
At this Hannibal, though grateful for his own freedom, felt something unexpected stir within him. Anger. Not at the success of his plan, but at the way Will was dismissed, discarded, treated as nothing more than a violent criminal. A part of Hannibal had wanted Will broken, yes - but not erased. To see him caged so easily, without the fight Hannibal had anticipated, was almost insulting. It was a betrayal of Will’s worth, a denial of the complexity Hannibal saw in him.
For Hannibal, his own freedom was sweet, but the taste was soured by the Bureau’s cruelty. Will was meant to be his adversary, his mirror and his equal. Instead, they had reduced him to a scapegoat, stripping away the dignity of the struggle. And that, more than anything, ignited Hannibal’s fury.
Will’s own colleagues had turned on him so easily. A few words here and there were all it took to shun him – as if all they needed was an excuse. To lock him up and wash their hands of the unstable and obsessive man with the abrasive and alienating personality. No one ever bothered to look behind this front, look beyond his difficulties connecting with people and truly get to know him – no one but Hannibal. Will knew all this, knew how everyone saw him, but it cut much deeper watching how easy it became for them all to label him a murderer.
Despite so many years of this mistreatment, Will continued to work for them regardless of his own deteriorating mental and physical health. The higher ups had manipulated his extreme empathy along with his vulnerabilities to twist his mind into believing that the blood of those that die would be on his hands should he quit. He continued to push himself, working gruelling cases that damaged his mind again and again to try and convince himself he wasn’t the monster Hannibal had helped him uncover.
Those days have gone now. Will has accepted the monster within him and made peace with himself. He still continues his work and though he never actually indulges in his more murderous desires, he no longer fights to supress them. He is who he is, after all.
Well, he continued with his work right up until he was fired.
A little over a week ago, Jack had summoned Will into his office and told him in no uncertain terms, that now the Chesapeake Ripper was finally contained, they no longer had any reason to tolerate Will’s instability. That the Bureau doesn’t want to be represented by an abrasively obsessive and fragile criminal profiler whose name will be forever stained by his imprisonment for murder – ‘wrongfully’ being the keyword they conveniently omit whenever it suits them best. To the FBI, Will Graham is not a man who has saved countless lives, but a reminder of a scandal of their own doing, of fragility, and of the uncomfortable truth that their once prized profiler had walked too close to the darkness they try so hard to dismantle.
He was told to finish up his open cases and delegate whatever couldn’t be completed within two weeks and leave both his role as consultant and professor - Will had been discarded the moment his perceived difficulties outweighed his use.
Today, he has finished the last of his tasks, and though he was given two weeks, Will has no desire to stick around in a place he is so clearly unwanted, so he begins to head home for the final time. In the hallway, agents pass him without acknowledgment, their eyes sliding away as though he has already been erased.
A small part of Will (though if he’s truly honest, it’s far larger than he dares to admit) is genuinely happy for Hannibal. Happy that he has been able to evade the FBI’s grasp, and happy that the institution that has continued to hurt Will is once again being outmanoeuvred by a far more intelligent mind. The Bureau has never truly been on Will’s side; it has used him, broken him, then abandoned him – why should he root for their success now?
Yet deep down, beneath that quiet satisfaction, the feeling of bitterness gnaws at him. He had given up his chance to live a life alongside Hannibal, to embrace the truth of who he really is - the truth Hannibal had seen so clearly from the beginning. If he had only surrendered to that vision, if he had accepted himself as Hannibal had accepted him, he would have been free now. Free in a way the Bureau could never offer. Free to stand beside Hannibal, not as his prey or a pawn, but as his partner.
The thought is as dangerous as it is intoxicating. It whispers of happiness, a kind he hasn’t felt in years, if at all. And it was all gone. Because stupidly, Will had hesitated, because he had clung to the fragile illusion of morality he believed he should feel and that the Bureau demanded of him. Now Hannibal was out there, untethered, and Will was left behind - bitter, hollow, and haunted by the knowledge that he had denied himself his one chance at living a life full of genuine joy.
As he begins his drive home to Wolf Trap, all he can think, is why now? Why has Hannibal complied with the BSHCI for so long, only to pick this day to escape? What was the point in waiting so long? These questions and more circle his mind endlessly, despite how he tries his best to not focus on them. For he knows he will never gain answers to them now. If Hannibal doesn’t wish to be caught, he never will be. The only reason he was ever detained in the first place was Will, ensuring the younger man would always be able to find him – that he would always remain in reach for whenever Will was ready.
The though burns like acid in his stomach – he is too late. He waited too long and never even visited the man he misses so badly, and now he will never get the chance. Part of him feels betrayed by Hannibal, no matter how unfair those feelings may be, for breaking his promise. But the greater betrayal has been his own. Afterall, it was him that took too long, he that never even gave Hannibal a sign that he still cared for him so deeply – when he looks at it like that, it’s no wonder Hannibal gave up on him and ran, he wouldn’t see himself as worth the wait either.
Tears sting at his eyes, though he wipes them away furiously. This is his own fault, there is no one to blame but himself, and now he must face the consequences – a life without his career, a life without meaning, and worst of all: a life without Hannibal.
Will’s mind continues to spiral as he pulls up outside his home. He sits there for a long moment, forehead pressed to the steering wheel, forcing himself to push down the agony ripping him apart from the inside. It hits him then with a force he hadn’t anticipated. For all the years he spent in denial, his resistance to Hannibal’s pull, and the time spent convincing himself that their connection was nothing but manipulation and danger, Will now understands the truth with a painful clarity. He hadn’t realised just how much Hannibal meant to him until the possibility of seeing him was gone for good.
His reliance had been subtle, woven into the fabric of his days. Hannibal had been his constant - the one person who saw him without flinching, who understood the fractures in his mind and saw them not as weakness but as depth. Without him, the silence was unbearable. The thought of never again hearing Hannibal’s voice, never again feeling the weight of his gaze, is a hollowing ache that spreads through Will’s chest.
He tells himself it’s better this way, safer. But the lie rings empty, even in his own mind. What gnaws at him isn’t fear, but longing. Hannibal had been the axis around which his life revolved, and now that axis is gone, leaving him set adrift. The realisation is cruel: he has lost the one person who made him feel seen, and it was his own hesitation, his own refusal to embrace the truth, that had cost him it.
A sob rips its way out of his throat before he can stop it and he lashes out, striking the steering wheel with his fists repeatedly. Tears stream down his face, tears of both anger and sorrow, as he continues pounding at the inside of his car. The violence offers no reprieve from his emotions, instead all it does is make him sob harder. Months of pain he’s had to keep bottled up and locked away because the one man he would have trusted with it remained trapped behind bars due to his own actions. Anger and betrayal at Hannibal for leaving him, hatred and self-loathing at himself for pushing the man further away, and the simmering resentment at the way the FBI has treated him – the way they reduced him to a liability and kicked him to the curb so easily – tangle together, indistinguishable amongst the violent storm raging within him.
The pounding slows as his fists fall limp against the wheel, but the sobs don’t stop. They come harder and deeper, as though his body has finally surrendered to the grief he has denied for too long. In that moment, Will is stripped bare – he’s not a profiler, not a consultant, not even a weapon for the FBI. He’s just a man, broken by the loss of the only person who had ever truly seen him.
There’s nothing left for him now but his pack. His faithful hounds that have stuck by his side and demanded nothing but love from him. They don’t demand explanations or recoil from his instability, and Will knows they won’t judge the tears still clinging to his lashes. He drags his hands down his face and forces himself to take a deep breath – his car is not the place for this breakdown. Inside, with a bottle of whiskey and the overwhelming silence that comes with being alone sounds much more appropriate.
He drags himself out of his car, slamming the door shut behind him, before trudging up the path to his home. All the while berating himself for being so affected by Hannibal’s disappearance. Raking his hand harshly through his hair, Will unlocks the front door and pushes his way in.
He stops immediately, discomfort settling over him just as abruptly – something feels off.
Barely registering the action, Will finds his hand at his hip, reaching for the service weapon he no longer owns before once again cursing the Bureau. He hopes someone will at least appreciate the irony of his murder occurring the same day he’s forced out of his job in law enforcement.
His eyes scan the room, picking up every detail before noticing the most obvious sign – his dogs are calm. There is no barking or growling or any attempts at defending their den from intruders, in fact they all remain relaxed with their tails wagging gently at their master’s return. This does a lot to ease Will’s discomfort, as he continues his way further into his home, checking each room he passes. His dogs’ eyes are bright with uncomplicated devotion – they continue to love him as they always have. He hangs his coat up and kicks his shoes off, abandoning them haphazardly by the door. Hannibal’s voice appears unbidden in his mind, chastising him for his carelessness – Will’s heart clenches painfully.
“You really need to start taking better care of your belongings, Will.”
He spins round in shock, the words causing his heart to pound and his blood to spike with adrenaline. He is ready to fight on instinct, defend his home, but then the voice registers and his mind stalls, struggling to reconcile the impossible sight before him.
There, across the room, is Hannibal. Seated elegantly in Will’s armchair, looking perfectly poised and relaxed despite how out of place he should be in Will’s dog hair-covered home. He sits as though he belongs there, as though he has never been gone, with one leg crossed neatly over the other and his hands resting lightly against the armrests. Somehow, he even manages to make the grey prison-issued jumpsuit he wears look regal, transformed by the way he holds himself, gaze settling entirely on Will.
His hair is a little longer than Will remembers, with a little more silver threaded through the strands, and his skin is a little paler from his confinement, but Hannibal remains as radiant as the day he knelt in the snow for Will, all those months ago. His eyes, rich and near blood-red in colour, pin Will where he stands, leaving him breathless and utterly lost for words.
His lips part, but no sound escapes as his chest tightens painfully. Will continues to stare at Hannibal, completely overwhelmed by the emotions warring within him. Finally, he manages to force his words out, though his voice is hoarse, worn ragged by the sobs still buried in his chest.
“You shouldn’t be here.”
Will immediately curses himself for his aggressive words. He hasn’t seen Hannibal in months, and the first thing he says is rude? Yet the moment he speaks the words, a panic begins to rise within him – he’s right. Hannibal shouldn’t be here for it is not safe. Here, his freedom is compromised for it’s only a matter of time before the FBI come knocking on his door to either force him to help or accuse him once more of being involved.
Hannibal tilts his head slightly. The gesture is so familiar, it tugs painfully at his heart. A faint smile curls at Hannibal’s lips as he once again begins to read Will’s mind through his body, picking up on every little detail as if no time has passed between them. “And yet here I am.” His words are spoken softly, almost indulgently, but remain steady. “You didn’t truly believe I would leave without seeing you first, did you?”
Will’s fists clench where they hang loosely at his sides, unwilling to admit that a part of him had believed that. Had believed that Hannibal had given up on him too and had gone for good. Anger flares within him, but not at the man before him, instead it’s at Hannibal’s carelessness towards his freedom. “You escaped. You should be halfway across the world right now disappearing, not sitting in my living room.”
His desperation seems to bleed through his words and Hannibal dips his chin softly in understanding. Will is desperate to cross the room and touch the man, desperate to prove he is truly here and not just a cruel figment of his imagination, yet his body refuses to move. His feet feel nailed to the floor beneath him and his body weighs him down leaving him incapable of even reaching out.
Hannibal’s gaze softens, though it maintains its intensity, as he continues to observe Will. “I could be anywhere, yes. But travelling halfway across the world wouldn’t matter, not if I found myself without you.”
The words strike Will like a blow. Hannibal’s declaration ripping him apart from the inside and it’s all he can do to contain the sobs that try desperately to break free. His vision blurs and he vaguely notices how his body begins shaking violently, out of his control – he feels like he’s falling apart.
In a moment, Hannibal is across the room and standing at Will’s side. He reaches out, so very gently, brushing his knuckles along the line of Will’s jaw.
“Hannibal.” Will gasps his name before lurching forward and falling against his front. As always, Hannibal is there to catch him and he cradles the back of Will’s head, pressing him firmly to his chest. He wraps strong arms around the smaller man, holding him tightly as he whispers gentle words of comfort, all the while stroking through his hair – desperate to touch as much of him as possible.
Will finds his own arms wrapping tightly around Hannibal, clawing at his back for purchase as he lets himself fall apart. He lets himself feel everything he’s been holding in for so long as his sobs tear through the silence. They are ragged and unrestrained, as his body continues to tremble against Hannibal’s chest. Every breath feels like it might shatter him completely, but Hannibal holds him firmly, unyielding in his security, as though he could anchor Will against the storm raging within him. His hand moves slowly through Will’s hair, fingers combing with a deliberate tenderness, each touch becoming a reassurance that he is here, that he will not let go.
“You’ve carried this alone for far too long, my dear Will.” His voice is low, velvety soft, with each word pressed into Will’s ear like a promise. “But you needn’t suffer in solitude anymore.”
Will’s grip tightens, digging his nails into Hannibal’s back with the fear he may vanish if he doesn’t hold on hard enough. His sobs break into gasps, and his words spill out between them, fractured and desperate in their intensity.
“I thought… I thought you’d given up on me,” he whispers.
Hannibal’s arms tighten around Will, his hand cradling the back of his head with a protective strength as he speaks, “Never. I waited, Will. Longer than I should have, it seems. But I would never leave without you. I could never leave you.”
The words cut through Will’s grief, leaving him raw, exposed and trembling in Hannibal’s embrace. He wants to deny them, to push Hannibal away, but the truth is already clawing its way to the surface. He needs him. He has always needed him.
Hannibal tilts his head, pressing his cheek lightly against Will’s hair, as he takes a deep and entirely indulgent inhale of Will’s wonderful scent. His voice comes out as a whisper that seeps into Will’s very bones. “You are mine, Will. And I am yours. Nothing else matters, and nothing will ever change that.”
The relief that floods Will overwhelms him in the best way. Having Hannibal, once and for all, admit so openly and honestly, without any of his usual obfuscations, to his connection with Will is phenomenal. He wants to drown in Hannibal’s embrace and never have to face the outside world again, but that one question keeps niggling at him despite Hannibal’s reassurances.
Will’s voice trembles slightly as he forces the question out. “Why now, Hannibal? Why choose now to escape? And don’t give me that look, we both know full well you could’ve left the day you arrived if you so wished. So why spend eight months there, just to escape to my home?”
Hannibal ducks his head at Will’s words, a faint smile tugging at his lips – the way Will knows him so well will never cease to amaze him. After a lifetime of purposefully hiding and repressing his emotions to both survive and conceal the man he truly is, having Will pick him apart and read him so easily is, and always will be, a wonderous experience.
Thinking over his answer to Will’s question somewhat sours his mood however, recalling the way in which he heard Jack and Chilton discussing Will. Their words harsh and uncaring, as if Will was simply something broken they were finding a way to dispose of.
As always, Will was right - Hannibal had never been powerless, not truly. The cell he resided in was merely a stage, the chains and restraints a prop, in a play he could end whenever he wished. Within hours of his confinement, Hannibal had already mapped out the cracks in their security and the weaknesses in their routine and knew just how easy it would be for him to leave. Escape was not a puzzle to him - it was a choice. And he chose to remain.
It was not mercy, nor resignation, but a promise. In his own way, Hannibal had confirmed that he allowed himself to be captured for Will. He gave up his freedom for Will and wanted him to know that he would always be within reach, that whenever the younger man was ready, he would be able to find him. It was a gesture of patience, of his devotion – it was his way of giving Will back the agency Hannibal had stolen from him so many times before.
Hannibal knew, and deeply regretted, that many of his actions had been profoundly cruel to Will - he could see the scars he had carved into both his mind, heart and body. Regret was not an emotion Hannibal often entertained, but with Will it lingered, sharp and undeniable. No matter how much he may wish to, Hannibal knew he could not take his actions back, but what he could do, was wait. He could give Will the time and space he needed to confront the horrors Hannibal had committed, the time to come to terms with the shifting nature of their relationship. The chance to decide for himself what they could be to each other.
Hannibal wanted their relationship to continue on Will’s terms for once, allowing him the chance to heal before he chose to come back for Hannibal. He would remain imprisoned, visible and accessible, until Will came to him. And if Will never did, then Hannibal would accept that silence as his answer.
Hannibal had been prepared to wait a lifetime chained in his cell, if that was what Will needed – he would do anything for him.
But hearing that his Will, his precious little Mongoose, had been all but abandoned by those meant to care for him had angered him greatly. Worsened further by the knowledge that the Bureau had continued to use and abuse his brilliant mind whilst simultaneously shoving him to the side and labelling him an unstable liability. His escape was not for freedom’s sake, but for Will’s. To remind him that he was not alone, that Hannibal had waited, and would always wait - until Will was ready to claim him.
Hannibal had been out of the BSHCI, driving towards Wolf Trap within an hour of discovering Will’s mistreatment. He cursed himself as he drove. It was never his intention for Will to be hurt so badly in his absence, and knowing he hadn’t been there to help him broke his heart. Then and there, Hannibal swore to himself he would never again allow Will to be hurt – by his own hand or anyone else’s.
Upon arriving at Will’s home, Hannibal had been deeply concerned by the man’s absence and chose to let himself in through the back in case Will was in need of help. Finding the house empty of Will but full of his pack, Hannibal busied himself with greeting the dogs. At first, they appeared on edge but soon relaxed after recognising his scent – the treats he rewarded them with helped greatly with that.
Once the dogs were settled, Hannibal carefully lowered himself into Will’s armchair to await the younger man’s arrival. Being surrounded by Will’s scent felt like heaven to Hannibal, after months of nothing but processed air. He took the time to look around the room, gleaning anything he could about Will’s state of mind from the vaguely organised chaos that surrounded him. Hannibal could practically taste the pain and the loneliness that engulfed the space, which made his heart clench painfully for the man he had missed so much. All that did was strengthen his determination to get Will out of here – to whisk him far away from the pain his life embodied.
All Hannibal had ever wanted for Will was the best, for him to be happy and free in both mind and body.
Hannibal’s gaze now lingers on Will, softened but unwavering. He steps closer, his words gentle with each syllable heavy with intent. “Because I heard what they did to you, Will. How the Bureau mistreated you, how they cast you aside as though you were nothing. I could endure my own confinement - but I could not endure yours. Not when it was their cruelty that was turned upon you.”
Will’s breath catches, his chest tightening. He shakes his head, disbelief warring with the ache in his chest, even as he clings tighter to the man before him. “You broke out… for me?”
Hannibal raises his hand, brushing lightly against Will’s cheek - his touch is both grounding and incendiary. “I remained in that cell for you, waiting, giving you the time you needed. But when they betrayed you, when they stripped you of your worth, I could wait no longer. I will not allow them to hurt you again, Will. My freedom means nothing if you are suffering.”
Will’s vision begins to blur, tears threatening once more. His voice is a whisper when he finally manages to speak, torn between fury and longing for the man in front of him. “You shouldn’t care. Not after everything you’ve done to me, not after everything I’ve done to you.”
Hannibal leans closer, his eyes burn with intensity, yet his voice is silken and soft. “And yet I do. More than you can bear to admit. You are the only person to ever truly see me Will, and I the only one to see you in return – not the fragile man others prefer to believe, but the raw power hidden inside you. I have always seen you, even when you couldn’t bear to see yourself.”
Hannibal’s words burn with a ferocious honesty, willing the younger man to hear the truth. “You are mine, Will - and I am yours. Do you think that I care for you so little, that betraying me would make a difference?”
Will’s sobs begin to slow under the onslaught of Hannibal’s intensity, tapering off into ragged breaths. His forehead still rests against Hannibal’s chest, using the taller man’s strength to support him, when he feels something inside him shift. Cracks begin to appear in the rawness of his grief, giving way to a flicker of clarity - a reminder that he is not the powerless man everyone but Hannibal has viewed him as; he is not broken beyond repair. Will has survived everything Hannibal had done to him, he has survived the man himself, along with everything the Bureau had stripped from him. And survival itself is proof of his strength.
He draws back slightly from Hannibal’s embrace, forcing himself to meet his gaze head on. He can feel the wetness on his cheeks and the red-raw burn of his eyes, but when he finally speaks, his voice carries a steadiness that hadn’t been present before.
“You don’t get to decide who I am, Hannibal - not anymore. You may see me for who I really am, but I see myself too, now. And I’m not an object for you to claim.”
Hannibal’s expression remains composed, sincere and soft as he watches Will, but a flicker of something darker crosses his face – possessive in his interest. He allows a small smile to grace his lips as he openly admires the man before him, welcoming the sharp bite of his defiance.
He reaches out, his hand ever so gently curling around Will’s jaw. His fingers thread through the curly strands as he tugs gently to press their foreheads together. A soft sigh escapes Will, as he lets his eyes drift closed for a moment.
Will continues, determined to be heard, “I mean it Hannibal. The only way this will work is if we are equals.” His voice softens as he takes a deep breath, “I have missed you, dearly, and I won’t deny that, but I’m not going to let you define me anymore. If you’re here and we’re going to do this, it’s going to be on my terms.”
His words hang heavy in the air, a declaration of agency that cuts cleanly through the haze of longing and grief. For the first time in months, Will can feel the ground beneath his feet – solid and unshaken. Hannibal has returned for him, yes, but Will is no longer the man who had been caged and discarded. He is stronger now, and he will not surrender that strength unwillingly.
Hannibal can’t help himself. A glowing warmth fills his chest at Will’s independence and ability to stand up for himself against Hannibal, something so few people have ever done. His eyes gleam, the intensity in them sharpened by the thrill of seeing Will rise, seeing him reclaim the strength stolen from him. It is everything Hannibal has waited for - not submission, not collapse, but his defiance burning bright, his resolve and the raw power he had always known lay beneath Will’s broken exterior. The sight fills him with such joy, such fierce admiration, that instinct overtakes him before thought can intervene.
He reaches out, his hand steady against Will’s jaw, adjusting the angle of their heads. The kiss is sudden and unrestrained, born of instinct rather than calculation. His lips press firmly to Will’s slightly chapped ones, carrying the weight of everything he has not yet said aloud – his devotion, his longing, and the ferocious truth of his love.
For a heartbeat, the world falls away. The silence of Wolf Trap, the FBI out hunting him down, even the scars of their shared cruelty decorating their bodies - all of it dissolves into this singular moment of contact. Hannibal’s hand tightens at the back of Will’s neck, holding him close, unwilling to let him go.
Will, breathless and trembling, feels the shock of it ripple through him as he sinks deeper into the kiss. He parts his lips with a gasp and feels Hannibal’s tongue press deeper into his mouth, forceful and demanding, but clearly restrained. Will can feel the way Hannibal is holding back, allowing Will control of the situation, but right now, all he wants is for Hannibal to devour him completely.
“Hannibal,” Will gasps his name as he pulls in a desperate and ragged breath, their chests heaving and their hearts pounding. Before he has the chance to say anything further, Hannibal draws him back in. His tongue skilfully tangles with Will’s own, running along his teeth before delving deeper to taste all of Will. There is a desperation between them, a heady sense of overwhelming desire flooding their veins after so long spent without the other - and even when together, the time they lost by not taking this step sooner. Years of pent-up emotions bleed through them as Will tugs Hannibal’s lower lip between his teeth. He bites it. A little harsher than intended, but Hannibal relishes the sting of pain that only heightens the pleasure as he gasps and pants into Will’s mouth.
Slowly, the spinning of the room around them begins to settle down as they part, sucking in lungfuls of air. Will keeps his eyes pressed tightly shut, unwilling to break the moment, whilst being unable to meet Hannibal’s eyes as he speaks.
“No. Not like this. You don’t get to take me when I’m broken, I am not some easy prey for you to target when I’m at my weakest.” The words burn as he forces them out, but Will knows they have to be said. He can’t move forward with Hannibal if all he wants is an easy mark – it has taken far too long for Will to find himself for it all to be undone the moment Hannibal returns to his life. No matter how tempting it feels.
When Will finally dares to peel his eyes open, all he sees is an overwhelming flood of desire mixed with pure delight filling Hannibal’s gaze – as if Will’s defiance and fight is the very thing he had hoped for.
With lips swollen and red, Hannibal speaks. “Never, my dear. I will never take advantage of you again and shall endeavour to prove that to you for the rest of our days.” He reaches up to Will’s hair, tugging gently on a curl before guiding it back behind his ear. “And Will, know that even at your lowest, ‘broken’ has never been a word I would choose to describe you. You have never laid down and taken life’s cruelties, you continued to fight tooth and nail long past the point anyone else would’ve given up. What you view as being at your weakest, I see as your strength – I want you now, I wanted you then, and I will continue to want you for as long as you wish to make me wait.”
Will’s chest heaves and he can feel his blood rushing through his veins. Every word Hannibal speaks sends shivers of both desire and comfort through him. He longs to throw caution to the wind, disregard all his worries and just melt into Hannibal; allow himself the chance to finally rest knowing the arms wrapped around him are far deadlier than any other danger that may arise.
He needs Hannibal to know that his own devotion for Will is reflected right back at him, but at the same time, Will’s feelings need the time to be untangled and understood. His words are calm and sure when he meets Hannibal’s eyes.
“When I choose you, it has to be because I want it - not because you caught me when I was falling apart.”
The smile that lights up Hannibal’s face is stunning – a rare, unguarded expression that transforms his features into something soft and honest. He is truly radiant in his joy. “Then I shall wait, however long you may need. Your choice is the only one that matters; I will not take from you what is not freely given.”
His hand lingers at Will’s temple, fingers brushing lightly against his hair, but the touch is reverent now, restrained. Hannibal’s gaze drinks him in, not as prey, not as something weak, but as the man who has stood against him and instead of crumbling, has become his equal.
Will takes a deep breath, allowing himself another moment to drink in their shared embrace before stepping back. Hannibal’s hand falls from his jaw with a deliberate grace; he doesn’t press or demand anything of Will, simply offering his support quietly.
The dogs shifting around their feet brings Will fully back into the moment. With it comes the panicked reminder that the man, who’s arms just moments ago were holding him close, is the most high-profile wanted fugitive in the country. Every law enforcement agency is hunting him; every headline is screaming his name, yet here he stands, risking his freedom and wasting the precious headstart he had garnered simply to hold Will close.
Will’s chest tightens as his pulse begins to race for a far more unpleasant reason than before. His voice comes out strained, edged with fear, “You shouldn’t be here. What if anyone finds you? If they even suspect…”
Hannibal tilts his head, looking unruffled with his expression calm – he appears almost amused by Will’s sudden shift, but a part of him aches at the fear he has caused the other man. He tries to reassure Will as much as he can through words alone: “You have nothing to fear, my Love. You and your safety are my priority. Do you really think I would allow them to find me here, Will? I would never allow you to be caught in this hunt. Should they come anywhere near, I can vanish into the shadows with no evidence against you. I promise you, Will; no more guilt will land on your shoulders.”
Will just stares at him for a moment, the sincerity of Hannibal’s words pinning him in place, before anger flares hot and bright within him.
“You’re an idiot.”
Hannibal’s eyebrows shoot up, the words leaving him unsure of how to respond. Will continues before he has chance to find his voice. “Do you really think I give a shit about myself right now? Hannibal… You absolute fool.” His words are harsh, but his emotions are running far too high for him to censor himself right now. Regardless, if Hannibal truly wishes to spend his life with Will, he should get used to his frequent and utter disregard for social niceties. “You shouldn’t be here because I’m the first fucking person they’ll turn the blame on! You can’t be here, not because I’m scared for myself, or, I don’t know, want you gone or something, it’s that I can’t bear the thought of them catching you!” his voice cracks, raw with his rising panic.
Will is pacing now, his agitation and anxiety swirling around him. He stops then, directly in front of Hannibal before dragging a hand down his face. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he mutters, before taking a deep breath and facing Hannibal head on.
The look of pure fondness on Hannibal’s face stops Will’s tirade in its tracks, causing him to flush at his sudden outburst. Much quieter, but no less forceful than before, Will murmurs, “You need to take this seriously Hannibal. The world is hunting you and staying here isn’t safe. You have to protect yourself; you have to run.”
Hannibal’s gaze lingers on Will, his smile soft but edged with intensity. He steps closer to Will once more, trying to calm the frantic man before him. He lowers his voice to a gentle whisper that seems to wrap around Will with care.
“My protection alone was never the priority, Will.” He caresses the man’s cheek gently, pausing his words before he can berate him once more for his lack of self-preservation skills, before continuing. “I must admit, I did not come here to you entirely empty-handed. I came here with a plan. The Bureau has cast you aside with disdain, leaving you to suffer alone, which is something I will not allow. If you are amenable, I would want us to leave this place together - to escape across the world and build a life where no one can touch us. I have homes in a few different locations where we could settle, along with new identities for us to assume.”
Will can’t help the widening of his eyes, overcome by the amount of thought and work that has been put into these plans – Hannibal’s devotion feels tangible through the meticulous way he has been preparing for anything Will could ever want. Hannibal’s words start to come quicker, a never-seen hint of anxiety threaded through them at Will’s continued silence. “If none of my options are satisfactory, I have the means for anything you desire, wherever you would like to go Will, I shall make it happen. We can mould a life to suit us perfectly, giving you the opportunity to finally thrive as you deserve. A life where you can hunt to your heart’s content and explore your darkest desires by my side.” He pauses here, almost hesitant before continuing carefully, “A life where we can love.”
Will feels his breath catch, his chest tightening as the words sink in – Hannibal truly wants them to share a life together. So much so he has all these different plans already organised and ready to go. Who knows how long he has been planning this, just waiting for his chance to bring Will with him. His voice trembles, torn between disbelief and a bone-deep longing.
“You really want me to run away with you? To abandon everything?”
“More than anything in the world.” Hannibal’s response is immediate, leaving no room for Will’s doubt to fester. “Not abandonment though, Will. It would be liberation. You have given the FBI everything, and they repaid you with betrayal – they ostracised you, then placed the blame on your shoulders. All I wish is to offer you freedom - freedom from their cruelty, freedom from their lies. A new life, far from their reach, where you and I can exist as we were always meant to.”
Will’s pulse races, his mind spinning with the weight of the choice laid out before him. The danger is undeniable, every aspect of this potential future together is rife with risk and peril, yet Will is finding it difficult to care anymore. From the very first day they met, their lives had become irrevocably entangled – regardless of how long it took them to realise it. Something had bound them together so tightly, to the point where one would be unable to survive without the other, that even when finally together, their love would burn as violently and bloody as it is strong and unbreakable. Yet the comfort in Hannibal’s words manages to bury just as deep inside his chest as any fear possibly could.
“My dogs, Hannibal…” his voice is weak even to his own ears, his decision already forming in the back of his mind. “I can’t just abandon them.”
Hannibal gives Will a soft smile, his eyes glittering in the fading light. “There would be no need, Mylimasis. I could never dream of parting you from your pack, they are included in every plan I have made for us. Where we go, your pack follows, if that is what you wish. I want for nothing more than your genuine choice on this matter, no other variable but your desire to join me should affect your decision. I have endeavoured to plan for every possible eventuality.”
Will’s anger has not vanished completely, but temptation and joy in its rawest forms are growing strong and pure within him. The thought of leaving everything behind, of surrendering to Hannibal’s promise of safety and devotion feels freeing in a way he never before thought possible. And standing here now, watching as Hannibal, nervous yet full of hope, describes every little detail he has considered for Will’s happiness, only makes his love for this man burn even brighter.
For reasons he can’t quite explain, Will continues to push back gently at Hannibal’s plans. “You can’t just say that like it’s simple though. It’s not. Running away with you… it would mean losing everything.”
Hannibal tilts his head, “Would it really, Will? Or would there instead, be everything to gain. We could live a life unshackled, defined not by the world’s cruelty, but by our own choices.”
Will’s breaths come ragged and his pulse is still racing, but his panic begins shifting into something else - something far more dangerous than fear. The idea Hannibal has planted is taking root, curling through his mind like ivy. He can honestly see it: the two of them leaving behind the endless hunt, the Bureau’s betrayal, shedding themselves of the suffocating weight of guilt. A new life for them, far from prying eyes, where he wouldn’t have to fight every day just to survive.
His voice is low, hesitant but steady as he questions, “If we leave… if we really do it… where would we go?”
Hannibal’s smile grows, his eyes gleaming with delight at the question. He leans further into Will’s space, his tone smooth like velvet. “Anywhere you wish, my dear. Florence, Buenos Aires, Tokyo… the world is vast, and none of it is beyond our reach. We would live quietly, beautifully, free of their pursuit. You would have your peace, Will. And I would have you.”
Will swallows hard, his chest tightening with the weight of temptation. He wants to resist, to remind himself of the danger, but the thought of escape was intoxicating. His voice cracks again, raw but leaning towards surrender. “You make it sound… almost possible. Like maybe it could work. Maybe I could finally breathe.”
Hannibal’s hand brushes against his cheek once more, reverent and unyielding. “It will work. Because we will make it so. Together.”
Will closes his eyes briefly, his mind spinning with the impossible choice. But when he opens them again, there is no mistaking it: he is leaning towards Hannibal and the beautiful picture he paints of a future together. The scales tip and the temptation is becoming harder to resist.
Hannibal’s smile softens as he absorbs every glimpse of emotion that crosses Will’s face, but there is a flicker of tension beneath his own expression - a rare crack in his composure. He reaches for Will’s hand, pressing the gentlest of kisses to his palm, before nuzzling closer to him. He continues to hold Will’s hand gently but firmly as he speaks, voice low and silken, though edged with urgency.
“I despise rushing you, Will. I have waited years, and I would wait longer still if the world allowed it. But time is no longer our ally. The hunt for me grows closer with every moment I spend here with you. If I remain here, they will find me… and they will take me from you.”
Will can feel his heart clench at the thought, his pulse racing as he searches Hannibal’s face for the reassurance he so desperately needs. For once, Hannibal’s calm appears shadowed by something sharper - not fear, but the weariness that comes with understanding and accepting the inevitable.
“I want you to choose freely, but I am unable to linger much longer. If you wish me gone, I will vanish into the shadows, and you will never bear the weight of my presence again. But if you wish me to stay - if you wish for us to leave together - then we must act now.”
His thumb brushes across Will’s knuckles, reverent, yet pleading in its care. “I will not force you. I will not take advantage of your pain. But I need to know, Will. Do you want me to wait in silence, or do you want me to carry you away from this place, before the world tears us apart?”
Will’s world narrows to the warmth of the touch against his hand. His gaze flickers to the shadows beyond the walls of his home, where escape promises both salvation and uncertainty. For a heartbeat, silence reigns – heavy and trembling, alive with the choice that hangs between them.
“I have lived alone in this pain for too long,” Will whispers, his voice now weak with exhaustion but remaining steady. “I fear what lies beyond these walls, beyond the life I’ve tried to build for myself, and yet... I fear what waits within them too. I fear what may become of me should I stay and force myself to keep living this cruel monotony. If you are truly offering me freedom - not just another set of chains dressed differently, or as a debt I could never escape, but instead as a companion - then I can’t, I won’t, turn you away.”
His fingers tighten around the other’s hand, fragile yet resolute in his answer. “Don’t wait in silence, don’t vanish alone. Please, Hannibal. Take me with you. If the world is intent on tearing us apart, let it try – and let us leave them nothing but our absence to work with.
His words are barely spoken before the coiled tension in Hannibal eases with a deep exhale – a sound of pure relief that belies just how much he had feared Will’s rejection. This overt display of emotion, this window provided into Hannibal’s mind, helps settle the remaining anxiety churning in Will’s stomach. Hannibal’s honest fear, his genuine care for Will’s happiness and the clear desperation to just grab Will and run that he is unable to hide no matter how hard he may try (but he is consciously ignoring and fighting against to ensure Will is able to make his own choice unobstructed) is all the proof he needs to take this first step with Hannibal. His fingers close fully around Will’s hand now, no longer tentative, no longer afraid to be hopeful.
“Then stay close to me,” he murmurs, voice low and steadying. “Whatever comes, we will face it as one.”
Will chuckles softly, “The world won’t know what’s hit it.”
Even as his thoughts continue to churn, Will knows exactly what he’s walking into – his eyes are wide open this time. Hannibal is not his salvation; he is not the safe choice for an uncomplicated future. Hannibal is the raging storm he has made the choice to walk alongside, and he is the fire he’s chosen to hold in his bare hands – devouring him whole but not yet breaking skin. There will be days where he wants nothing more than to scream at Hannibal, strike him, tear himself free from the gravity that binds them so tightly. Days when the weight of what they’ve done – of what he’s allowed Hannibal to release in him - will press so heavily on his chest he’ll wonder why he ever thought he could bear it. He knows just how hard they will have to fight for their love and their life together to work, and that some of the most difficult conversations of his life still lay ahead of them. It’s no secret that nothing about this choice will ever be simple, but god does he know it will be worth it.
Even now, with adrenaline burning through both his mind and body, Will feels the truth settle in his bones like something inevitable. The hunt behind them may be closing in, but for the first time in years, his path ahead isn’t a maze of obligations and half‑truths. It isn’t a cage disguised as duty or a life spent pretending he doesn’t ache for something so much more than just survival. Ahead of him, the world stretches wide and dark and unknown. And somehow, impossibly, it feels like freedom, burning bright and clear for him to see.
He will never truly regret this choice.
Not the danger that comes with falling in love with a man like Hannibal, not the uncertainty of starting their life anew, not even the fury that will inevitably flare between them, snapping forcefully like lightning. Because beneath it all - beneath the violence and the longing and the terrible, impossible understanding they share - lives a connection he will never find anywhere else. A connection he has spent years trying to deny, to sever and outrun. But he’s done with running now.
Their minds have become one – symbiotic in their independence within the unescapable connection forged through the thrill of the hunt. The world they leave behind them would only mean chaos and destruction for them, the never-ending pursuit with only the illusion of peace. The world ahead of them is a void waiting to be shaped and formed into a life to suit them perfectly. But between them, in the narrow space where their thoughts brush and intertwine, there is clarity. They are two beings who have chosen each other despite everything - despite morality, despite fear, despite the ruin they leave in their wake and the utter unknown that defines their future. Independent, yet inextricably bound; separate, yet indivisible where it matters most. And Will? He doesn’t fight it anymore. He lets their connection settle deep in him, steady and fierce, and feels Hannibal’s answering acceptance like a spark catching a flame.
Hannibal glances up at him, eyes catching the faintest glint of moonlight streaming through Will’s open curtains. There is no triumph there, no gloating over a victory well won. Instead, there is only a quiet and fierce devotion - the kind that promises both refuge and ruin.
Will’s chest tightens, but not with fear. Just one week, he thinks, just one week with Hannibal, hidden from the rest of the world, will be worth far more than a lifetime spent the way he lives now. So what could a lifetime together do for him? He squeezes Hannibal’s hand, grounding himself in the warmth of it, in the choice he has finally allowed himself to make. Knowing with full clarity, that whatever comes next - the fights, the confessions, the blood and the tenderness - he will face it. They will face it, as one.