Chapter Text
“They’ve found me out. I’m leaving for Italy tonight, before the FBI has time to file the appropriate paperwork.” Hannibal says plainly over dinner, as though he were discussing the weather. “Come with me, Will.”
“No.” Will answers. Hannibal glances up in surprise.
“Pardon?”
“You’ve made your grave.” Will bites out the words. “Now lie in it.”
“Come now, Will.” Hannibal starts, seemingly amused. “You’re certainly not innocent in this, and you’ll love Europe.”
Will had covered for Hannibal’s gruesome murders. He’d known for weeks now, but had kept it a secret. He didn’t know why. Probably he was in denial. Lying to himself as much as he was lying to anyone else. Hannibal was the only person Will trusted, and if he let himself really comprehend the fact that Hannibal Lecter and the Chesapeake Ripper were on in the same, Will would potentially fall apart.
Somehow it’s freeing for Will to know that someone else is onto Hannibal. He now feels that he can let their toxic relationship go.
“I won’t.” Will mumbles defiantly, and Hannibal looks momentarily stung.
“Think it over.” Is all Hannibal says.
——
That night, Will doesn’t sleep. He tosses and turns violently in his bed, huffing in defeat when sleep won’t come.
Before, Will would have called his psychiatrist, and Hannibal would have read a psychology textbook over the phone until the empath finally fell asleep to the comforting drone of the doctor’s voice.
Before, Hannibal would have come over with sleeping pills or whiskey. Would have stroked Will’s hair and told him of his travels. Would have hummed along to an unrecognizable opera.
Before, Will didn’t know that he was falling for a serial killer. Once he’d put the pieces together, he went into shock. Nearly fainted. Hannibal confessed everything, as though it weren’t a big deal. Like it was just a somewhat unsavory part of his personality that hopefully Will could come to accept. He said it as though he were telling Will, “I don’t care for dogs.” Or “I’m not looking for a serious relationship right now.” He waved the confession away like it wasn’t important. Like it was something they could work through together, as a couple.
“You’ve eaten them, too, you know.” Hannibal said, as though it were a joke.
Something in Hannibal’s tone made Will calm. Will had nodded, trying to think clearly. He knew deep down that Hannibal was manipulating him into being much more comfortable with this than he ought to be, but his mind was too foggy to be rational.
“You’ll keep this a secret, won’t you Will?” Hannibal had asked, knowing damn well that Will would.
“Yeah, of course.” Will had said numbly, self loathing and uncertainty clouding his thoughts.
And now, Hannibal expected that Will come when beckoned, like a dog. Follow the cannibal blindly to Europe as though it were some kind of romantic getaway.
“Run away with me, Will.” Hannibal’s voice snakes through Will’s mind.
“Yeah, sure.” He says to no one. Winston’s ears perk and the animal cocks it’s head, curious. “Run away from the law. How grand.”
Will scowls into the darkness, having conversations with Hannibal in his mind.
“It’s not me, it’s that you’re a cannibalistic serial murderer.”
“You never once complained about my cooking.” The imagined Hannibal replies.
Will groans, ripping the blanket off of himself and sitting up. He barely has time to cry out when Hannibal emerges silently from the corner of his room and covers Will’s mouth and nose with a cloth undoubtedly covered in chloroform. Will struggles, tries his best to hold his breath, though he knows it’s no use. He’s fighting against the inevitable.
“Will,” The villain says softly. “I have two plane tickets to Italy and it would be very rude of you to deny me. This will be good for you.”
Will tries desperately to force himself from Hannibal’s grip, accidentally gulping in air. The last thing he sees before it fades to black is Winston, licking Hannibal’s free hand.
Traitor.