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Will held in a useless sigh, rubbing his hands together in a vain attempt to spread some warmth to his frozen fingers. Jack had phoned him at 5 in the morning with the briefest of explanations; there was a Ripper attack, come to this location. Will would be annoyed if he hadn’t been awake anyway. Ever since Jack had recruited him for the FBI’s Superpowered Murderers division he had been having nightmares almost every time he closed his eyes.
However, with the combination of his exhaustion and the rush to get the scene from Jack he had forgotten his gloves. A shiver unrelated to the cold shuddered down his spine. A Ripper scene. Of all the so-called ‘supervillains’ Jack’s team dealt with, the Ripper was the most vicious and prolific. He was known as Jack’s golden goose, due to the fact that Jack had lost a trainee ‘hero’ to the killer.
Will supposed it came with his abilities, but he couldn’t help having a sense of morbid admiration for the Ripper’s tableaus. He shook his head, tugging at his scarf to occupy his hands and mind with thoughts other than murder. He ducked under the police tape surrounding the park where the scene was located, noting the crowd that had accumulated. Clearly, Freddie Lounds had already contaminated the scene. He would be mad if he wasn’t so scared. Or was he excited? He couldn’t tell, quite ironic considering his abilities.
As he went to enter the park Jack blocked his path, looking as though the only thing holding him back from swearing violently was his professional responsibilities. “It’s a nasty one,” he confided in a low voice, as though that would stop the swarm of reporters and rubberneckers from hearing, “so prepare yourself. I’ve cleared the scene, so you can go and do your thing.”
Will nodded solemnly, but Jack held out a hand to stop him as he went to head into the scene. “I need to know if it’s the Ripper. If it is, I need you to catch him, Will.” Will held in another sigh. He knew Jack wanted him to wrap his head so tight around the Ripper he would think of nothing else, but he wasn’t usually so obvious about it. While Jack didn’t possess any powers, if he did, they certainly wouldn’t be ones of subtlety.
“I’ll do my best, Jack. You know this isn’t an exact science,” he muttered, adjusting his glasses to avoid Jack’s intense gaze. Finally, Jack let him pass and Will rushed past to avoid any more conversation. He passed the rest of Jack’s team leaving the area as he walked, presumably to give him space to use his abilities. He could tell Beverly, the only other powered individual on the team, had used her magnetic powers there. It lingered in the air like static.
Lifting his gaze from the ground for the first time, Will’s breath caught as he took in the crime scene. It was art made of flesh. It was a shaming. This pig had been rude, and this was her punishment. Will blinked hard and intentionally wrenched his mind from the Ripper’s. Even with that brief glance it had been far too easy to connect.
Taking in the scene through his own eyes this time, Will had to admit it was more artistic than most crime scenes, even ones made by powered criminals. The body of a girl was draped delicately over a stag head, pierced just enough by the antlers to keep her aloft. It was obvious that she had been alive when she had been stabbed into place.
Will frowned as his eyes narrowed in his focus. Already he could sense that there was more behind this piece than simply shaming the victim. He removed his glasses, rubbing a hand across his eyes to delay the inevitable. He would have to look. Double checking that the scene was clear, Will briefly closed his eyes, preparing his powers. The pendulum began to swing, and he opened his eyes to the scene reversing.
-
The girl was struggling. That was alright. She has no hope of overcoming me. I press her onto the antlers, ensuring that she isn’t pierced in any vital places. I want her alive for the punishment, after all.
While she was rude, and thus deserving of her murder, this was not all she was chosen for. She fit into my message. That I am superior. It was not arrogance, but a simple fact. If they were to be hunting serial killers, they may as well focus on one who elevates, who creates art. One like me.
It is a taunt. You may have found the Minnesota Shrike, but I will not be so easy. That is what this conveys. I have forced his amateur work into a piece of mastery. I continue by my usual methods, removing her organs while she is still alive. Her struggles begin to die down, allowing me to finish in peace. She dies in pain. That is her punishment. This is my design.
-
Will blinks back to himself, the power in him fighting against his attempts to restrain it. He compartmentalises what he learnt, separating himself from the Ripper piece by piece. Staggering away from the Ripper’s mocking tableau, Will made his way towards Jack to relay his analysis.
“This is him mocking. Both us and the victim. He heard about the capture of the Minnesota Shrike, so he decided to elevate Hobbs’ murders to his own standards. It’s definitely the Ripper,” Will revealed, barely managing to keep himself from stuttering. Jack nodded, indicating for Will to tell him more.
“He wanted her to feel the pain. He did everything while she was still alive. She didn’t know him, but she did offend him in some way.” That wasn’t new information. In fact, that was consistent with the Ripper’s methods. But hopefully, Jack would take it as the out it was.
“And?” Jack pressed. Will replaced his glasses, before burying his hands in his scarf, fiddling with anything in his reach to distract himself from Jack’s incessant questioning. Even with his powers restrained as much as he could, he could feel Jack’s pressing need for answers radiating in the air.
“I don’t know. It’s the usual Ripper kill: precise, theatrical, brutal,” Will answered quickly, ignoring the interested crowd gathering around the scene. If Jack was bothered by letting the press have access to his insights, he would have insisted they be removed.
“The only difference with this one is his direct mocking to us. He’s basically saying that Hobbs was an easy arrest. He won’t be so easy to catch. That his art- uh, what he considers as art, is above all others.” At Jack’s scowl at the usual information, Will finally sighed. “I don’t know what more you want, Jack. The Ripper is far too intelligent and restrained for even my… abilities to fully explain from only a crime scene. You know that.”
“What I’d like is some proper answers for once, Will!” Jack spat out. Will lowered his gaze even further as Jack continued to rant at him, “You haven’t even managed to figure out his powers. With Hobbs, you could tell us on the first day. But you can’t with the Ripper?”
Will finally snapped, glaring fiercely at Jack’s shoes. “I’ve already told you the answer, Jack, you just don’t want to accept it. The Ripper has, at most, increased senses and perhaps charisma. Nothing powerful enough to even class under your jurisdiction.”
“That’s impossible, Will, and you know it. Just because you can’t figure out his power doesn’t mean he doesn’t have one.”
“Just because you don’t want to accept my answer doesn’t mean it isn’t correct,” Will replied, his voice harsh.
“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” Jack replied in a deadly quiet voice. Will immediately deflated, nodding his head slowly in passive acquiescence. There was no point arguing with Jack. Will knew he was right, he knew the Ripper had only mild powers, but there was no convincing Jack of that fact. He presumed that only someone with a huge amount of power could have taken down Miriam Lass, one of the most promising ‘heroes’ the FBI had ever trained.
Will, on the other hand, knew better. Those with powers often underestimated those without, though he wasn’t entirely sure how Jack made the same presumption. The Ripper was methodical, determined and precise. He didn’t need powers. He considered himself beyond them.
“Just go back to Quantico, Will. You can check through the previous Ripper files for things you missed,” Jack ordered bitterly, and Will took the punishment with a brief nod of acknowledgement. The second Jack stood out of his way Will hurried past, wanting to get away and settle his powers as soon as possible.
He ducked under the police tape, pushing through the crowd as politely as he could and ignoring the various reporters clamouring for him to make a statement. He kept his head down, avoiding eye contact as he made his way through the throngs of bystanders. This tactic had its downsides, however. Just as he was nearing the edge of the crowd, he banged straight into a man and would have fallen if not for the other’s quick response of grabbing his shoulders.
“I’m so sorry, are, um, are you okay?” Will managed to mutter out quickly, raising his eyes just enough to catch a glimpse of blond hair and a small smile.
“It’s perfectly alright, no harm done,” the man responded, a soft, foreign accent afflicting his words. The man gently dusted off Will’s scarf and jacket with his hands, causing a warm blush to rise on Will’s cheeks.
“A-Alright, sorry again, um, have a nice day,” Will stuttered out before fleeing, making his way to his car. Casting a brief glance behind him, he saw the man still watching him as he fled.
*
Will groaned, resisting the urge to rub his eyes. He had been combing through the old Ripper files on Jack’s orders for hours now and, as he’d guessed he would, he’d found nothing new. He checked his phone, somewhat unsurprised by the late hour. He’d asked Alana to drop in and feed his dogs, so they should be alright until the next day. But that didn’t mean he wanted to stay at Quantico all night doing Jack’s punishment of grunt work.
Sending a brief text to Jack to say he was leaving, Will gathered together the last of the files into a neat pile. With a last lingering gaze at the works of the Ripper, Will grabbed his scarf and glasses from the table before setting off towards his car.
Walking through the empty halls of Quantico was ironically creepy at night. The only sound was Will’s own echoing footsteps. This atmosphere was prickling his paranoia, causing him to feel as though someone was watching him. Will ran a hand through his hair, snorting at his own thoughts. He was being ridiculous.
Exiting the building, the creeping paranoia got even worse in the dark of the parking lot. Will felt an instinctive shudder head down his spine. Giving into his paranoia, he briefly glanced around the parking lot but found nothing hiding in the dark. He shook his head at himself and continued to his car, getting in and setting off immediately, pausing only to remove his coat and scarf.
He was only a few minutes out of Quantico, however, when his car began to slow and sputter. Will wasn’t even surprised at this point; it was just his luck to have his car break down. He pulled in against the pavement and parked his car, getting out to inspect under the hood and see if there was anything he could do.
Just as he was about to begin his inspection, another car passed by, the lights blinding Will until he lifted his hand to block his face. He expected the car to simply continue past him, but instead the car pulled in behind him. Will blinked, staring as a man got out of the car, seemingly intent on helping him.
“Hello there, do you need some assistance?” the man asked in a familiar accent, and everything snapped together in Will’s head. The man’s presence at the crime scene. The convenient breaking down of his car. The sense of being watched. This man was the Ripper. There was no way for him to back up his realisations, but the vague feelings his power was getting from the man screamed the truth at him.
“No, I’m- I’ll be fine. No need to delay you as well,” Will forced out in as casual a tone as he could manage. The man went to walk towards him, and Will’s instincts couldn’t be ignored. He flinched, staggering away from the man. The Ripper paused, examining him, before a small smile slide onto his face.
“Ah. You figured it out.” The Ripper sounded delighted. Will stared straight into the Ripper’s maroon eyes, barely daring to breathe. For a brief moment, the two men simply stared at each other, seemingly unwilling to break this strange feeling of understanding. Then the Ripper moved.
Will’s eyes widened as the Ripper stalked towards him. Not wasting any time with debating if he should turn his back on the predator advancing on him, Will spun around and ran. He could hear the Ripper’s pounding footsteps behind him. He was catching up.
Will had only a few moments to make a decision. If he kept running, he would be caught. But there wasn’t much else he could do. He wasn’t even moving in the direction of Quantico. Will could practically taste the Ripper’s intentions in the air, and so managed to avoid the grabbing hand that attempted to snake around his throat.
Will stopped abruptly, and in the time it took for the Ripper to register his movements he was already sprinting towards his car. It may be broken down, but he could still lock it. Or, even more promisingly, he could retrieve his gun.
Will skidded to a stop, wrenched open the door of his car and launched himself into it in a single motion. He slammed the door and hit the button to lock it. He searched frantically through the pockets of his discarded coat, looking for his gun. After a few seconds of desperate searching, his blood ran cold. His gun was missing. How could his gun be missing? He’d definitely had it in his coat this morning- but he hadn’t checked after he visited the scene. He hadn’t checked since he had bumped into the Ripper himself.
There was a gentle knocking at the window of his car. Will flinched harshly but turned his head to look at the Ripper standing outside his car. The man was standing calmly outside the car door and, when he noticed he had Will’s attention, he teasingly raised his hand, revealing Will’s gun held within it. Will couldn’t help but think of his profile of the Ripper; methodical, precise and intelligent. He had planned this. He had stolen Will’s gun earlier in the day to prevent his potential escape.
It was then that the Ripper pointed Will’s gun at the window. Will started from his thoughts violently and ducked down under his seat. The shot of the gun echoed in Will’s ears as the glass rained down over his head. Ignoring the sting of the small cuts that the smashed glass had slashed into his face, Will attempted to back away from the Ripper’s hand that entered his car through the broken window. Only for the Ripper to hit the unlock button on his dashboard.
Will didn’t even have time to scream before the Ripper had yanked open his car door and wrapped an arm around his neck. Will grabbed at the Ripper’s arm and pulled urgently in an attempt to allow himself the space to breathe. It was this distraction that allowed the Ripper to plunge a syringe into the crook of Will’s elbow.
Will froze, perhaps the worst reaction he could have had. This let the Ripper empty the syringe into his bloodstream. The Ripper released Will, who attempted to stand, attempted to get away from the Ripper. It was for naught. The drug was already affecting him, his mind spinning and his legs unable to hold his weight.
Will collapsed onto the seat of the car. He heard the Ripper humming lightly, but it sounded muffled, as though his ears were filled with cotton. “What a cunning boy you are,” the Ripper murmured gently, “but not quite cunning enough. It’s alright. I’ll take good care of you.”
The Ripper’s poisonous words followed Will into the darkness as his eyes slipped closed. His senses began to dull, and the last thing he felt before the slippery influences of the drug pulled him into unconsciousness was the tugging sensation of the Ripper pulling him from the car.
*
Will woke with a pounding headache. This wasn’t an unusual occurrence for Will, but what was unusual was that he was tied to a chair in a fancy dining room. He struggled briefly against the coarse rope, before deciding it was too tight for him to escape, and so he chose to examine the room instead.
The room had a large oak table on which laid two sets of cutlery, one of which was placed in front of Will. A quick glance around the room revealed two doors, one presumably leading to the kitchen and the other to the exit. He also noticed several strange paintings and exotic furniture, all of which admittedly fit within his profile of the Ripper.
Will could hear movement and rattling through one of the doors, which was presumably where the Ripper was. With a last hopeless struggle against the ropes binding him to the chair, Will slumped in defeat and decided to wait for the inevitable. But he couldn’t escape the burning questions in his mind. Why had the Ripper revealed himself to Will? Why had he planned to kidnap him? What did the Ripper want with him?
Will perked up once a door opened and the Ripper entered through it, holding aloft two plates. He cast a small smile in Will’s direction when he noticed the wary eyes following his movements.
“You’ve awoken. How are you feeling? No disorientation or memory loss?” the Ripper asked pleasantly, placing one of the plates in front of Will. He refrained from untying Will’s hands, however, so Will wasn’t sure what the Ripper was expecting him to do with the food.
“I’m fine,” he replied cautiously, following the Ripper’s movements with an intense gaze. The Ripper’s lips quirked, and Will had to restrain a scowl. It probably wasn’t wise to antagonise his captor. The Ripper sat in the seat next him, placing the other plate in front of himself.
“I’d like to introduce myself. My name is Hannibal Lecter, although I’m sure you know me better as the Chesapeake Ripper,” Lecter continued in a pleasant voice and Will felt a wave of pure fear crash over his mind. The Ripper had just revealed his identity. That meant he had no plans of allowing Will to leave this room alive.
“Now, I’d like you to answer a few questions for me. I’m sure you’re hungry, so I would be willing to allow you to have some-”
“No,” Will interrupted in a soft whisper, his face paling rapidly at the realisation that was pounding in his head. Lecter raised an eyebrow at him, clearly questioning his disruption. “You- you’re eating them,” Will rasped out, a nauseous feeling rising in his stomach.
Lecter’s eyes widened briefly in astonishment, clearly impressed by Will’s ability. “Well, I suppose we can delay dinner for now. As long as you answer my questions, that is,” Lecter eventually responded. Will could sense Lecter’s curiosity and intrigue with him amplifying by the second. That did not bode well.
Will gave a short nod of agreement and Lecter’s replying grin was vicious. Will could feel the careful consideration with which Lecter chose his words, could taste the roiling curiosity in the air like the calm before a storm.
“What, precisely, are your powers?” Lecter asked. Will blinked. That was not what he had been expecting.
“You’re not going to ask what the FBI has on you? Why ask about me?” Will said, unable to comprehend that the Ripper would prefer to hear about him over information that may protect him from capture.
Lecter actually rolled his eyes, and Will had to restrain the slightly hysterical giggle that threatened to bubble up. He doubted the Ripper was usually the eye rolling type. “No one in the FBI has even a chance of locating me. No one, that is, but you. I don’t care to know what the cattle think of my art. Although,” he added with a small smile crinkling his eyes, “it will be amusing to see them running around like headless chickens in an attempt to locate you.”
This time, Will couldn’t restrain it. He laughed, the bitter tinge of guilty resentment clear in the noise. The Ripper looked bemused, and Will answered before he could ask. “They won’t bother looking for me. I’m a useful asset, but that’s all. If you wanted them to panic, you would have been better off kidnapping someone from the Heroes team. But I suppose you’ve already done that.”
Lecter’s scowl, which had been steadily growing as Will speak, changed to a look of consideration and what his abilities were screaming at him was pride. “I have?” the Ripper asked simply, and it was Will’s turn to roll his eyes.
“Miriam Lass. You didn’t kill her, she was too useful. Besides, she didn’t deserve your usual humiliation. She was smart enough to discover you after all,” Will replied with certainty. The longer he spent in Lecter’s presence, the more his mind was putting together about the elusive killer.
Lecter looked absolutely fascinated. A sick sense of comfort crawled up Will’s spine, comforting and chilling him at the same time. He didn’t want a serial killer’s respect. But why did it feel so nice?
“You are correct. The way the mirrors in your mind reflect the thoughts of others onto your own psyche is fascinating. Empathetic powers to a high degree. But your attempts at distraction won’t work. Why do you believe you wouldn’t be searched for?”
Will started at the mostly accurate description of his abilities. He knew the Ripper was intelligent, but the way he seemed to have slithered his way past Will’s mental defences caused an uncanny dread to bubble up in his stomach. Looking at Lecter’s unrelenting gaze, he realised he wasn’t going to give up until he got his answer.
“I’m, um, at best, useful. Not liked. I’ll be lucky if they notice my disappearance in time for my dogs to be alright. Jack will only notice when the next crime scene he wants me to look at comes up. Even then, he would probably prefer to solve the crime over finding me,” Will admitted, adverting his eyes, which he realised had been looking straight into Lecter’s own maroon eyes.
At this point, Will had accepted that he wouldn’t be getting out of this alive. His best bet was to request of the Ripper to publicly display him so that his dogs wouldn’t be forgotten. He may as well get out his bitterness while he could. Maybe the Ripper would kill Jack for him. Guilt welled up the second that thought entered his head, but he pushed it aside in favour of listening to Lecter’s reply.
“You are not ‘useful’, you are the most useful member of the team,” Lecter replied with a puzzled frown. “Are you trying to convince me to release you? I thought you more intelligent than that.”
Will curled in on himself. Even the Ripper thought little of him; he had some intelligence, enough to know that trying such a such a scheme was worthless. “No,” Will said bitterly. “It’s the truth. I get the idea that you think I’m a piece of fine china for the FBI. Parade me around, show me off. In reality, I’m like an old mug. Jack uses me constantly, but he hides that he does and would turn his attention elsewhere if I went missing.”
Will watched the minute changes to Lecter’s expression as he listened to Will’s words. He seemed… confused. Or perhaps not confused but uncomprehending. The Ripper couldn’t comprehend that Jack might not care about Will, even in a professional sense. Will would laugh if the bitter memory of going through that realisation himself didn’t still prick at the walls around his heart. Betrayal required expectation. And despite Will’s attempts to keep his expectations as low as possible, Jack and the FBI had still managed to fail to meet them. He felt betrayed.
“You are wrong,” Lecter stated. Will stared disbelievingly as the Ripper’s words sunk in. “Despite your powers of empathy, you are blinded by your own views when it comes to yourself. They will search.” Will broke eye contact the second the word power exited Lecter’s mouth. He knew this movement would be noted and, sure enough, Lecter continued.
“You do not see your empathy as a power? William Graham, you are quite the curiosity.” Will shivered. His instincts were screaming that the only thing worse that gaining the disdain of the Ripper was attaining his curiosity.
“Will. If it’s going to be my last night alive, I’m not going to spend it being called William.” The sarcastic words slipped out before Will could suppress them. The Ripper would not be inclined to lessen his pain after that rudeness. But to his surprise, Lecter laughed. Will’s ability told him that this wasn’t a ruse. Lecter was genuinely amused by something Will was sure he would usually kill over.
“Will, then,” Lecter replied with a smile, and Will was uncertain why his name in Lecter’s damnably soft accent sounded so alluring. “And this is not to be your last night. I will prove to you that the FBI will be desperate to find you. Then I will present you to them.” There was no mistaking the meaning of that. After Lecter was satisfied, he would kill Will. Well, it wasn’t as though he was expecting to survive anyway. The few days it took for Lecter to see the truth was more than he had been imagining.
“Well, if you aren’t going to kill me yet, could you go by my house and feed my dogs? The key is in my coat,” Will finally asked, faux calm coating his voice. Lecter tilted his head, examining Will carefully. It seemed that no matter what approach he took, Will was only becoming more interesting to Lecter.
“You would trust a serial killer with not only the key to your home, but your dogs as well?” Lecter replied carefully, scrutinising Will’s every expression.
“It’s not like I have much choice. If you don’t display me immediately, it’ll be days before I’m even noticed missing. My dogs need fed.” Will shrugged as much as he could from within the confines of the ropes. Lecter, seemingly content with whatever he had discovered from Will’s face, nodded.
“How many dogs do you have?”
“Seven.”
“Seven?” Lecter sounded aghast. Will couldn’t help himself. He laughed.
*
Several days passed with Will spending his time in the company of the Chesapeake Ripper. Despite his less than legal activities, no one could deny that Lecter was a fabulous host. Although Will was often tied to something, he was given delicious vegetarian food and, as much as he was loath to admit it, wonderful conversation.
Lecter’s mind was fascinating. Will had already known this but talking to the man only solidified this viewpoint. Often, they talked about killers and supervillains. Theorising and speculating and Will was surprised by how much he enjoyed it. Usually he hated using his abilities. But when he used them to further his theories in conversations with Lecter, he didn’t have to restrain them. Lecter didn’t flinch at his uncanny insight. Didn’t recoil from his connection to other minds. And Will relished this easy acceptance.
However, they also talked about other topics. Will learned of Lecter’s love for opera, about his career as a psychiatrist (to which Will had responded with a scoff and an ‘of course’; Lecter had laughed warmly at his antics) and about classic literature. Lecter had managed to draw blood from the stone of Will’s mind in the form of conversation about his dogs, about fishing and other interests. It couldn’t hurt, Will reasoned uselessly. He would be dead soon anyway.
He couldn’t deny that he liked Lecter’s company. Every minute spent with the other man had furthered his understanding of the man’s mind. Which meant that he could tell Lecter enjoyed his company in return. For the moment, they had a mutual truce.
It was almost a week from the day that Will had been kidnapped that Lecter came to the guest bedroom he had deemed as Will with his usual breakfast and an unusual dark cast to his face. “What’s with the frown? Did you have a nightmare about someone being rude?” Will quipped, using his free hand to take the plate from Lecter. Usually such a brash response could pull a smile from Lecter, but the man simply stared forlornly in Will’s direction.
Will sighed. “What’s up?” he asked, placing the plate aside. “You look like a kicked puppy. Trust me, I would know.” That did get a small quirk of the lips from Lecter. Despite his light manner, Will watched Lecter’s movements carefully. He was fully aware this might be the moment of his death.
“They aren’t looking for you,” Lecter grumbled out finally. Will waited a brief moment for him to continue, but nothing was fore coming.
“And?” Will prompted, pushing food uncertainly around the plate beside him. He wasn’t sure where Lecter was going with this. Will stilled as Lecter moved forward with all the grace of a predator, swiftly placing two fingers under Will’s chin and tilting his head up until he was forced to make eye contact with Lecter.
“They are not looking for you,” Lecter murmured, his voice steeped in barely restrained venom. “They are aware you are missing. There are even rumours that you have been taken by the Ripper. And still, there is barely any interest in finding you. They treat you as a servant, useful but utterly disposable. It is most rude of them.”
Will had to fight down the blush that ached to rise on his cheeks. This close to Lecter, with their eyes bearing into each other, he could feel an overwhelming protective, possessive feeling from the Ripper.
“It doesn’t matter,” Will managed to utter unconvincingly, attempting to ignore the soothing warmth of the fingers still perched under his chin. This became even more difficult when Lecter’s hand moved to cup the side of his face.
“You don’t have to lie to me, Will. Throughout our conversations, you have shown me complete understanding. It is time I return the favour.” Will watched through widened eyes as Lecter used his free hand to untie Will’s restrained arm. Despite his new-found freedom, Will remained in place.
“Dear Will, I believe I have a choice to offer you. I’m sure you are aware I have become fond of you. It is not a sensation I am used to, nor one I wish to let go of,” Hannibal purred out as Will hung on to his every word. He instinctively leaned into the heat of Lecter’s hand that remained on his cheek. “I will value you. I have no wish to restrain you or force you to restrain yourself. I am willing to give you understanding. Companionship.”
“I- I don’t understand. I’m not-”
“I may not have known you long, Will, but I am more than aware of your worth,” Hannibal interrupted Will’s attempt to dissuade him. There was a spark of warmth in his maroon eyes that told Will that his mind had been made up. “Here is your choice: I can return you to Jack Crawford, who did not care to even pretend to look for you, or you can stay with me. I will help you along the path of your becoming. I will happily seek revenge for you, if you so wish.”
Each delicately chosen word ensnared Will’s heart. He was more than aware that was the point, that Hannibal was employing manipulation despite his clear honestly. But, deep down, he didn’t care. Will felt as though he was standing on a cliff’s edge. At any moment, he could plummet to the rocks below. Or he could rise, different yet stronger. No longer alone.
In the end, there was no choice. The moment Will had connected his stormy eyes to Hannibal’s own of dried blood, he had been doomed. Or perhaps he had been saved. Will took a deep breath, faintly picking up the spicy scent of Hannibal’s aftershave.
“You,” Will whispered. “I choose you.” An expression of awed reverence settled on Hannibal’s face, and Will knew that he had made the correct decision in that moment.
“My dear Will, you are stunning.” Hannibal’s hand moved to stroke through Will’s unruly bedhead of curls. Will’s blush could no longer be restrained and stained his cheeks with his pleasure. His empathy was screaming Hannibal’s intentions at him, and Will felt no need to dissuade him. Hannibal was going to kiss him.
The two men connected in the middle, and Will felt the soft touch of lips against his. In the back of his head there was a strange wonder that the Ripper could be so gentle. The moment was brief, but Will knew he was addicted. He would never be satisfied without the smooth kisses of Hannibal Lecter, cannibalistic serial killer.
As Hannibal drew back with a smug grin, Will let out a breathy laugh. “I think I was wrong,” he admitted lightly, leaning into the embrace Hannibal offered.
“About what, my dear Will?”
“Your powers. You definitely have ones related to kissing.” Will could feel the chuckles rumbling through Hannibal’s chest. In that moment, he knew he would be happy. He could embrace himself. There was irony, he realised suddenly, that in Jack’s desperate attempts to capture a supervillain that technically didn’t exist, he had created one in the form of Will.