Chapter Text
“Call me if the dogs give you any problems,” Will said, staring directly into Hannibal’s eyes against the business of the airport. The doctor smiled, a playful kind, rubbing his hand along Will’s arm.
“I am sure they will give me no trouble, they do not normally.” Will huffed, reaching up the adjust his bag over his shoulder.
“You’ve never had to deal with them, alone, for a whole week.” Hannibal laughed, choosing the tug Will closer and kiss him, openly, to silence him. The brunet fell into it, as he always did, tilting his head slightly and giving the softest of whines when Hannibal pulled back. Beside him, he could feel warm eyes glancing at him- waiting, patiently for now, but he knew their time was limited. He had a plane to catch.
“Lay your worries to rest,” Hannibal whispered, reaching up to stroke his cheek, “I believe I can handle the pack alone. Besides, if need be, perhaps I will call in assistance.” He glanced over at the woman standing by his side, and Beverly smiled.
“We’ll set up puppy play dates, since I’ll have Applesauce.” Alana laughed, in front of her, leaning in to kiss her cheek affectionately. Will nodded, glancing back to Hannibal and taking his hand, squeezing it as he gave him one last peck on the lips.
“I’ll see you in a week.” He pulled back, holding onto the doctor’s hand as long as he could, until he could no longer reach and he was forced to let go as he followed Alana off towards security.
*
Stepping into an empty house wasn’t uncommon for Hannibal, even now that he and Will had been living together for almost six months. There were many days he may arrive home sooner than his lover- or late enough that Will perhaps had fallen asleep already. But this felt almost different, the knowledge hanging in the air that the home was his, and his alone, for an entire week.
In the distance, he heard the dogs stirring. They had not come to greet him, and he would only assume they felt it too, the absence Will had left behind. He closed the door, locking it as was custom and hanging his coat up, toeing his shoes off. He unwound his scarf as he walked into the dark house, choosing to leave the lights off as he moved towards the living room. He found a few of them scattered on the floor, lazily, looking up at him but not even raising their heads. He left them in peace, heading for the kitchen to pour himself a glass of wine, not caring that it was only mid afternoon. He had canceled his appointments for the day to see Will off at the airport, and now he found himself with more time on his hands than he had prepared for.
It had been difficult to convince Will that he should accept the offer to guest lecture for a week at Brown University with Alana. He had not wanted to take the time away from his own teaching- especially considering the semester would be ending shortly after his return. He had not wanted to step away from the FBI, in case he was needed- still grasping at that feeling that he could save people, should save people.
Hannibal knew it was often a topic during his therapy sessions- not because Dr. Du Maurier had told him- but because Will himself had come home some nights and gone off on it. How he didn’t understand how it could be unhealthy, wanting to save. Hannibal had many times given his own explanation, but Will was far too worked up to see that it could eat him alive, the work he did, if he did not take moments to step back. And oh, Hannibal tried to force those moments on Will, had been making progress. Small steps, but steps to pull him away from the desperation that he needed to save everyone- the guilt Hannibal knew Will carried over those he had not.
Hannibal was simply thankful the guilt Will once felt over taking lives had melted away, washed down into the soil by a curiosity piqued inside the brunet- one that Hannibal could satisfy.
He poured his wine, made his way back to the living room, and turned on a small couch side lamp, settling down and pulling his tablet from the table to his lap. On the floor, Buster stood up, making his way over happily and making the leap up the couch- a leap he was by house rules not allowed to make, nor one Will wanted the little dog making for fear of his back. But, this time, Hannibal allowed it, as the little dog snuggled up to his side and rested his head on his thigh, eyes flicking from the movement on the screen as Hannibal scrolled through the news, and then back up to his face.
Hannibal sipped his wine, realizing he had been home for less than twenty minutes, and he was missing Will. The week, he was sure, was going to be torture.
*
Beverly dropped her keys in a bowl by the door- the clank causing Applesauce to look up from her spot on the couch, and kicked her shoes off. She tossed her coat onto a hook, then made her way into Alana’s living room, dropping down on the couch and heaving a sigh, looking at the dog that was watching her.
“Guess it’s just you and me for a week girl.” She reached out, scratched the dog behind her ear, and looked up at the ceiling. An evening to herself felt strange- especially in Alana’s house. It seemed easier for her to watch Applesauce if she stayed here, rather than dragging her to her apartment, and Beverly couldn’t complain. She spent more nights here than in that apartment anyway.
Sometimes she wondered if maybe she should do as Will had- finally move in with her other half. The term had her laughing, and she stood up, walking out to the kitchen in search of a beer and some popcorn. If she was going to be stuck in all evening alone, she’d make a one-person party out of the ordeal.
*
Hannibal let the dogs out before bed, as was custom. He watched them romp around the cold ground- free of snow for the moment, but early December meant it could be white come dawn- and once they were securely inside and the large house locked up, made his way to the bedroom. He settled into his side, book in hand, cell phone gripped in the other, and wondered if Will had gotten settled properly. The man had texted him saying everything was fine, but he and Alana had both gone straight to meetings with staff and administration at the university to both discuss the planned lectures and go through the motions of proper social introductions, and he had been unavailable.
Hannibal glanced at the bedside clock, which read just after ten. It wasn’t late- had Will been home, they would most likely still be seated downstairs for another good hour- but Hannibal knew there was the chance Will had not yet finished with his obligations- obligations he was glad the brunet was taking upon himself, as it would be rude to stay shut in his hotel room and not get to know those who had invited him to speak. He was sure Alana was helping in keeping Will occupied.
Setting his book aside, mind made up, he unlocked his phone and clicked on Will’s name, waiting as the phone rang a few times, before he heard the man’s voice.
Hi, you’ve reached Will Graham. I’m currently unavailable, but if you would like me to return your call, leave me a message.
Hannibal took a breath as a beep passed, and then spoke, focusing on keeping his voice calm. “I see you must still be preoccupied, dear Will. I do hope you are finding some enjoyment thus far. I am heading to bed and simply-“ he paused, and Hannibal knew if he said anything but the truth Will would read through it, the man so far inside him, in blood and marrow and nerves and thought that he knew every lie Hannibal breathed. Were it anyone but Will, it would be terrifying.
Even knowing it was Will, that they had been like this for some time, it was still terrifying.
“I simply wanted to hear your voice, beloved. I hope the night finds you well, and that I will hear from you tomorrow.” Hannibal ended the call, setting the phone aside and picking up his book, silently cursing himself for feeling as if someone was pulling thread loose from his skin, slowly tugging them in Will’s direction.
This was only the first night. How was he going to survive the week?
*
Beverly heard her phone ringing from where she had left it in the bedroom. She cursed around her toothbrush, thinking it would be Alana, and spit in the sink, hurrying across the hall half dressed and grabbing it from the nightstand without looking.
“Hello?”
“Well good morning sunshine!” She rolled her eyes, walking in bare feet over the plush carpet to the closet that had, somehow, become her own.
“Good morning Brian,” she huffed, pulling a shirt down, “Why are you calling me?”
“Can’t a guy call his friend and coworker and wish her a good morning?” Beverly slipped the shirt over one arm, then moved her phone, managing to get her other arm through the sleeve.
“No. Not you, you want something.” She heard him huff a sigh, then-
“The coffee machine might be busted at the lab. How nicely would I have to ask to convince you to get coffee?” Beverly rolled her eyes.
“You wouldn’t need to ask, I’m going to need it. Sleeping at Alana’s alone is weird- the house is too big for just me. Look, I’m almost ready to leave, I’ll pick some up on my way. You at the lab already?” There was a small grunt of acknowledgement. “Is Jack there?”
Brian hesitated, then, “No. Not yet.” Beverly said nothing, leaving her shirt unbuttoned to instead fold her one arm over her waist. With Bella’s condition growing worse and worse by the day, they all knew it was only a matter of short time until she was gone. And any moment Jack was not in the lab filled Beverly with the uneasy feeling that, perhaps, the time had finally come.
“Okay, I’ll see you relatively soon.” She chose to say no more on the subject and ended the call, tossing her phone onto the bed and setting to buttoning her white shirt.
Her drive to the lab felt ordinary- she had left from Alana’s more often than her own apartment lately. She walked in, carrying a cardboard tray holding three cups of coffee, and found Brian and Jimmy both seated in the small room where the broken coffee maker sat.
“My savior,” Brian teased as she set it down and passed him a cup. Jimmy took one with a thankful nod, before Beverly worked her coat off, hanging it and her scarf up.
“Tell me you two weren’t just in here waiting for coffee?” She saw the paperwork on the table in front of them, knew they must have been at least lazily looking at the case file that had been sent over form Montana, but she couldn’t be sure they had been putting any thought into it.
“We were being productive,” Jimmy said, pushing the picture of a man hanging from his neck in an old barn towards her. “But it’s hard to stomach these things in the morning before coffee.” Beverly sat down, lifting her own cup and spinning the photo so she could see it clearly. They had been given the case the other day- a call for assistance from the local PD there who had no real leads on a barn found with dour bodies hanging from the rafters. Beverly was sure, if they flew out, and were given a day or two to properly process the scene, they could do some real damage. As it was, all they could do was throw suggestions at them- and she had missed a whole day of it, by taking Alana to the airport.
“Point taken. So what did I miss yesterday?” She sipped her coffee as Brian broke into a frustrated rant about the local PD that was handling the case, and how he’d like to teach them how you really process and collect evidence. He was only part way in when the door opened and an exhausted looking Jack stepped inside, staring at them.
“I wasn’t aware this was a social club,” he said, turning and heading right for the coffee machine.
“Broken,” Jimmy called, taking a sip, and Jack stopped in his tracks, huffing bitterly and turning back around. He glared at Brian, his statement still standing, and the man shrugged a shoulder.
“I was just catching Beverly up to speed on what she missed yesterday.” He nodded, glancing at her.
“Did Alana’s flight go well?”
“Yeah. I haven’t talked to her, but she sent me a text last night. Said she and Will got to the hotel okay and were spending the evening doing the whole social thing.”
“Oh I’m sure Will loves that.” Brian snickered, and Beverly rolled her eyes, kicking him underneath the table.
“So long as he doesn’t decide to stay out there. We need his mind. Speaking of, pack up, we’re going to a scene.”
“Really?” Brian slammed the folder closed, grinning. “I’ll take anything over dealing with these hicks anymore.”
“Don’t get too excited,” Jack said, heading for the door as all three stood up, “It might be an easy close, and you’ll be right back with your friends there, Zeller.”
*
Hannibal closed the door of his office after bidding his patient goodbye, heading back to his desk. Part way across the room, he heard his phone buzzing, and his strides increased. He had gotten a text from Will that morning, stating that he was up to give an early morning lecture, so he could give a joint one with Alana in the afternoon- but he had not gotten the call he hoped for.
“Hello?” he answered, once he reached it, not bothering to look at the screen.
“Hi Hannibal. Sorry to disappoint.” Hannibal’s smile lessened at the sound of Beverly’s voice, and he cursed himself that his excitement was so tangible. “Am I interrupting?”
“No, I just had a patient leave. What can I do for you?” He settled on the corner of his desk, his free hand working open the jacket to his suit.
“Well, I’m at a scene actually. Jack got a call from the cops a little while ago, and he thought it might be pretty dull but...well, I’d like an opinion, and I was wondering if yours was available for the taking?”
Hannibal pursed his lips, glancing to his side at his appointment schedule for the day. “For the moment it is, yes. I have another patient in a few hours. Where are you?”
“Glen Burnie, by Arundel Mills. I’m not too far.” Hannibal nodded.
“I will be there shortly.” He ended the call, stuffing the phone into his pocket and standing, grabbing his coat. He worked the buttons as he walked for the door, a coil of delight rising in his belly and moving back towards his spine. Perhaps he could find entertainment for his time alone after all.
*
Beverly was waiting by the police line when Hannibal drove up. She watched him step out of his car, move towards her as if he was liquid, and she wondered how any one human being moved so smoothly. It was something she had wondered often about him.
“Thanks for coming,” she offered when he closed in, and he nodded, his exhaled breath visible in the air. She stuffed her hands in her pockets and turned, walking along the grass towards the small pond that decorated the outlet mall’s side. There were cops mulling about, and she could see Jimmy and Brian crouched by the pond- by the body- working to collect samples. “She was found just like this,” she said as they stopped, staring down at the naked body that lay on her side. “No one has moved her yet. Force of habit, not really touching her while we wait for Will.”
Hannibal nodded, crouching down and inclining his head. To his side, Jimmy extended his hand, offering a pair of gloves, which Hannibal excepted and very carefully pulled on. Beverly watched the way the latex moved over his fingers and hands, heard the slip snap of it against his skin. There was something to his movements- and without Will here to hold her attention, she could focus in on it.
“May I?” he asked, gesturing towards the body, and Jimmy nodded, still crouched down. Brian, next to him, had stood up, and had the camera ready, snapping photographs as Hannibal reached out, gripping at the girl’s forehead and tilting it back. Her eyelids were open, exposing the dark holes where her eyes had been. Beverly swallowed, but Hannibal seemed not affected in the least over it. He merely blinked once, taking the image in, and then very carefully reached for her shoulder with his other hand and maneuvered her onto her back, jostling something delicate from her side that fell to the ground.
“I don’t see any other real mutilation,” she pointed out, glancing along the girl’s naked body. She had the urge to throw something over her, preserve her privacy- even in death. It bothered her, to see the victims so exposed.
“I don’t either,” Hannibal agreed, reaching down for the hand that had been pinned beneath her body. Carefully he opened it, exposing what she had been forced to clutch in death. “I do believe we have found her eyes, at least.” Beverly glanced over his shoulder, frowning, and Jimmy took over, using tongs to carefully slip them in an evidence bag.
Hannibal stood up, nearly brushing his back against Beverly, and she caught the scent of his cologne, warm against the cold day. She recognized it from the many evenings she and Alana had spent with Hannibal and Will- from the way it clung to the brunet at times, early in the morning when he had been pressed fresh against the doctor. There was something soothing to it all.
“I’d like to know how she died,” Hannibal said, turning, he and Beverly taking a few steps away. “It would allow me to better paint a picture of your killer.” She nodded.
“I can get you that information as soon as we get her back to the lab. It’s weird, to be at a scene and not have Will...narrating.” She shivered, dug her hands deeper into her pockets. “Go figure, we get peace and quiet and the moment he and Alana are gone, we get a body.”
“Your perpetrator could very well have been sloppy. You will know soon enough.” Hannibal glanced back, at the woman who lay on her back, staring up with eyeless gaps at the grey sky. “I would recommend you work the scene quickly, however. It appears we may be getting some rain- or even snow- soon.”
Beverly nodded, glancing up at the angry sky. “You’re right. I’m sorry to pull you out here in this, Hannibal. I should have just taken some photos.”
“No apology is necessary. I believe I’ll take another walk around, if you do not mind?” Beverly nodded, and he gave her a charming smile, before he turned, walking near the edge of the pond, glancing about from ground to water to body, obviously attempting to piece something together inside his head. Beverly watched, for a moment, then inhaled, closing her eyes and wondering, perhaps, if she could piece this together herself.
She saw the girl standing by the water, but she had no real features. Her blonde hair was a transparent like veil, her clothing blurred lines in with her skin- colors washed out, faded like watered down paint. Beverly tried to place herself in the killer’s places- but unlike Will, she had no idea where to start. She didn’t have his skill, his finely honed curse- and having no knowledge on how the woman died, she had no idea where to put her hands- if she should at all. Perhaps she was drugged, perhaps there was something, some fine incision, her quick glances had missed.
She reached for the girl’s throat, because she could think of nothing else to do, and squeezed. There was a choked sound as her air cut off, and the woman thrashed, tried to tear away from her. Beverly bit her lip, harder and harder as the girl’s eyes rolled, until she was tasting copper and the body was going limp, heavy- dead weight as it fell against her, pressing into her shoulder. In that moment, the scar she bore from her bullet wound throbbed, angrily, and her eyes snapped open, her breath rushing out.
She glanced around, saw nothing had truly changed. The girl lay dead, Jimmy and Brian were still processing the body. She inhaled, held the breath in her lungs until they ached, then exhaled again, a tremor running through her. The watercolor shade had grown solid as she had held her throat, had become tangible, heavy. Real.
She licked her lips, realized the copper she had thought she tasted was real. She reached up, ran bare fingers across her lips, saw the smears of red- small but there, real, existing and telling her she had fallen enough into her attempt at empathy to physically harm herself. Beyond the sting in her lip, the scar on her shoulder throbbed in time with her every heartbeat, feeling like an aching reminder of her own mortality- who easily she could be the body on the ground, clutching her own eyes.
She would have been, had Alana not pulled the trigger for her.
Beverly shook her head, filing her thoughts away for another time, pulling herself back to the here and now. She glanced past the body, past Jimmy and Brian, found Hannibal standing, hands in his pockets, still as carved marble.
Staring at her.
She suppressed an open shiver and averted her eyes, back up to the grey sky, but she felt them, his eyes like mulled wine burning into her with a fire- intrigue that burned into his curious being. She felt them pressing past a seam, creeping inside like hands, like she never had before. Was Hannibal’s stare always this destructive and she simply had always had a barrier- or was he only now opening up for her.
Beverly looked back, but he was facing the water now, seeming lost in thought. She wrapped her arms around herself, clinging tightly, wanting to claw into her coat, her shirt, her arms- press her fingers into her skin and ground herself.
Beverly felt almost unstable, off kilter- as if she stood on one foot and the ground was slowly tilting. Another deep breath, held to the point of pain, and she told herself she was alright. It had simply been a while since she had been on a scene. It was because the every day routine was now thrown off- there was no Will here, to craft his perfect narrative for her waiting ears. There was no Alana at home to erase everything she saw, she read, she felt through out the day.
There was simply herself, left to sift through the two worlds they all tried to balance. Simply she- and Hannibal, with his dark eyes that she trusted but felt a sudden, inexplicable terror for.