Chapter Text
It was all per the terms of her release. With her home in Wolf Trap sold to pay for her legal fees and medical bills, Willowdean Graham was officially homeless. Though acquitted, the judge believed that she needed stability and to be released into the custody of someone who could provide that for her as she re-joined civilian life. Naturally, Hannibal volunteered his services and his home, but it was surprising to all how quickly Will agreed to it. Chilton watched her with wary eyes as she left the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane, unsure of what she was plotting by agreeing to all of this. If Will was honest with herself, she wasn’t sure what she was doing either.
Hannibal had her few meagre belongings she’d been allowed in the boot of his Bentley, with her tucked into the passenger seat with a blanket around her legs. The pair drove through Baltimore in relative silence.
“I was surprised when you agreed to this,” he said eventually.
“Well, I’d hate to become predictable,” she muttered.
Hannibal couldn’t help but smile at her sharp tongue as the lights turned green. He supposed anything was better than living out of motels until she was able to find a place. Jack was out of the question, of course, and her relationship with Alana had become a little strained during her incarceration. Maybe it was because Alana had believed that Will had committed those murders, as had Jack. The only one who believed she was innocent was himself, and she had been incredibly hostile towards him during those first few months of incarceration. Yet something had changed, and Will had morphed once again before his eyes into a new creature, this one less likely to be manipulated by him. Now, here she was about to move in with him. It was a strange turn of events to say the least.
When they arrived at Hannibal’s house, Will found herself standing awkwardly in the hallway as Hannibal removed her coat and then his own. She had never quite known how to act in Hannibal’s home. Everything was so much nicer than her own, that she had been almost reluctant to touch anything. But this was her home now too, and Will was adamant that she would no longer worry about such things. Hannibal wanted her here, amongst his antiques and strange taxidermy. He wanted her here with him, and she would act like it was exactly where she belonged.
“I have a little surprise for you,” he announced with a secret smile.
Will followed him to the kitchen, and watched as he opened the door to his back garden. Moments later, Winston came bounding into the room and ran at Will, eagerly sniffing about her legs. Will instantly fell to her knees, laughing at the way the dog licked at her face eagerly.
“You brought Winston?” she asked in disbelief, scratching behind his ear.
“I thought some home comforts would help, and he is the most behaved of your little pack.”
“Never thought you’d let a dog into your house, Hannibal.”
“There’s a lot of things I’m willing to do for you, Will.” She glanced up at him, meeting his gaze before he turned his head away. “Besides, I’ve found him quite good company these past few days.”
A soft laugh escaped her as she rose to her feet. “I’m glad to hear it. I wouldn’t want us to disrupt your life too much whilst we’re here.”
“You are a more than welcome disruption in my life, Will.”
“Keep talkin’ like that, Doctor Lecter, and I’ll get ideas,” she drawled, laying on thick a Southern accent she’d mostly buried.
Hannibal smiled, “I shall begin making preparations for dinner. Make yourself at home.”
She watched the doctor turn and leave the room, her gaze never falling from his form. Once he was gone, her face hardened and Winston whined at the sudden change.
“It’s ok, boy,” she cooed. “I won’t let him hurt you.”
Not that it had ever occurred to her that he would hurt her dogs, he had been more interested in hurting her mental and emotional state than her beloved pets. But she could never be sure that he wouldn’t. She’d once thought Hannibal to be her closest confidant, her anchor in the storm, until one day she’d finally realised what he’d done, what he was. Now, she was fully intent on using the ruins of that friendship to mask her true intentions and destroy him. Maybe then it wouldn’t hurt so much to be near him, as there would be bars between them. The thought made her smile.
----
Hannibal had always made it a point to stress how he still considered Will a friend, even when the others had cast him pitying looks in the wake of Will’s arrest. He had liked playing the role of the friendly psychiatrist who was unable to accept his patient’s psychosis after becoming too attached. He tried not to dwell on how close to the truth the role was. He would admit that he was a little bit obsessed with the young woman who had now moved into his home. Her empathy was what had appealed to the monster within him, naturally, but once Will was incarcerated, he had found himself missing other aspects of her personality. He missed the lingering scent of dog fur and cheap perfume that clung to her, and the nervous way her eyes tried desperately to avoid eye contact when talking. He naturally missed their talking about cases too, particularly his own and the way that Will would be equal parts frustrated and admiring of his work.
Now that he had her, back within his own four walls, there was something predatory stirring within him. It wasn’t the same predator he was used to, the one that desired to kill and create art from their corpses. This was a different beast altogether, but he didn’t yet give it a name. He imagined he was simply swept up in the novelty of having her in his home. Once she had been there a month or two, the beast would disappear.
He watched Will enter the kitchen, her cheeks flush with joy and Winston at her feet. His grip on the knife he was holding tightened slightly. Or maybe his obsession with Will Graham went beyond her mind.
“What are we having?”
He licked his lips. “I was thinking something simple. I don’t imagine you’ve been having very nutritious meals of late, and something too rich may upset your stomach. How does a frittata sound?”
“Delicious. Hopefully you won’t be serving it with plastic utensils,” she muttered dryly.
“Not in this house,” he smirked.
She leaned over the kitchen island, innocently peering at the vegetables he was chopping, and giving him a peek at her cleavage. “Anything I can do to help?”
“No, no. It is your first night here, and you are my guest.”
She pouted. “C’mon, let me set the table at least.”
Hannibal nodded with a smile, watching as she left the kitchen. When he finally emerged from the kitchen, he found that she had set herself a place right next to Hannibal. It was a far cry from when he had Jack over and set him at the opposite end of the table. It reminded him of the night he had Abigail over and cooked her breakfast for dinner, and had set a place for her at his right then too. It was unfortunate that he had to make do with Alana rather than Will, but the profiler hadn’t answered his phone in time before Alana appeared. He liked the idea of her always at his side, at meals and in company. Perhaps he would have to plan another of his dinner parties to appeal to that desire.
“Bon appetite.”
Will smiled politely and didn’t even hesitate before taking a bite. That was a little unexpected. Will had turned her nose up at any meat served to her in the hospital according to Chilton, though he suspected that had more to do with the taste than it possibly being human. Whatever it was, it stirred the familiar feeling within Hannibal whenever his guests unknowingly ingested human meat. Except this time, Will looked back at him fully-knowing what she was eating.
----
After dinner, Hannibal led Will upstairs to the guest bedroom. It was a bit simpler than the other rooms in his house, but there was still hints of Hannibal’s taste bleeding into the décor. It was a far cry from the dog-hair infested bed in the middle of Will’s living room in Wolf Trap, but strangely, Will didn’t feel out of place here. Winston shuffled into the room, sniffing about as he took in the new room.
Hannibal clasped his hands together politely as he stood in the doorway, watching her with interest. “I took the liberty of already unpacking for you. A new toothbrush and other toiletries are in the bathroom, and I put a dog bed in here for Winston. I assumed you’d want him close to you.”
Will hesitated before murmuring, “You didn’t have to do all of this.”
“I wanted to. I’ve always said my door is open to you, Will.”
“This is a bit different to inviting me to dinner. Way more. I don’t… I don’t know how I’d ever repay you.”
“All that matters, Will, is that you are free and that you are looked after. I am more than happy to take care of you, and I have the means to do so. All I ask is that you enter freely. Go safely, and leave something of the happiness you bring.”
Will cast him a pointed look. “Isn’t that Dracula? This where you admit to being a vampire?”
Hannibal chuckled, “Not quite. However, I am a Count, so maybe that’s something.”
“Why doesn’t that surprise me?”
Hannibal merely smiled, “Goodnight, Will.”
“Goodnight… Doctor Lecter.”
With that, Hannibal shut the door behind him, leaving Will standing in the middle of her new bedroom. It was a strange feeling, knowing that he was sleeping in the room next to hers. She wondered if he was thinking the same thing, and if he was inwardly beaming at the thought of having her so close.
----
It wasn’t the first time that Hannibal had seen Will when she’d stumbled out of bed, hair mussed up and a baggy t-shirt covering her modesty. It was, however, the first time that Will had stumbled out of bed and found Hannibal standing in his kitchen, dressed casually as he cooked breakfast. For once, he didn’t stand behind the counter in a shirt with rolled up sleeves or one of his many three-piece suits. Instead, he wore pyjama bottoms and a maroon jumper, staving off the early morning Baltimore chill.
“Good morning, Will. Did you sleep alright?”
Will nodded dumbly. “Like a baby.” She walked further into the kitchen, perching at the kitchen island opposite him as he chopped peppers. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen you out of a suit.”
Hannibal glanced down at himself. “To be fair, I don’t think you’ve ever accepted my offer to spend the night in my guest room before.”
“I hate to be an inconvenience.”
“You could never be an inconvenience to me, Will.”
A part of Will tried to ignore the feeling his words gave her, that familiar praise he had often dished out in the early days of their friendship. She shouldn’t feel anything for him, but she supposed old habits die hard. “Now, now, stop all that or you’ll make me blush,” she drawled, allowing her buried Southern accent to rise for a moment.
Hannibal smiled, and soon enough the pair were sat at the kitchen island eating the omelettes Hannibal had prepared. It was all strangely domestic, especially with Winston appearing to sit at their feet and accepting spare pieces of pepper from Will’s fingers.
“I thought we might invite Jack for dinner one night,” Hannibal said eventually as they washed the plates together. “Once you’re fully settled in, of course.”
Will paused. “What for?”
“I’d like him to see you settled.”
“Want to prove I’m domesticated, huh?” she scoffed, putting a hand on her hip.
“I want to show him how well you’re doing.”
“It’s only been a day!”
“Yes, and you’ve managed to go a whole day without aiming a gun at my head or telling people I’m a serial killer. Personally, I would say that is progress.”
She shot him a pointed look. “You’ve set the bar pretty fuckin’ low, Doctor.”
“Semantics. Besides, the whole point of you being here is rehabilitation. Your encephalitis is cured, you no longer work under him, now your mind should be clear and of all people, I think Jack should see that first-hand.”
“I suppose, but what would we even talk about anyway?” she huffed. “Listen to him apologise again for not believing I was innocent? The Ripper?”
“I’m not asking that you forgive him, Will. You have suffered a great betrayal by the people you trusted with your safety. Jack, Alana and I are all to blame for what has befallen you.”
Will shot him a pointed look. “And in what ways are you guilty?”
“For not protecting you.”
“When the Ripper gets his hooks into someone, Hannibal, he plays for keeps,” she replied coolly. “Look at Jack. All these years later and Miriam Lass’ arm turns up, tantalizing Jack to keep on his trail. To keep things personal.”
“And why would he do that, do you think?”
“Because he likes to see people unravel. See what he can push them to do.”
Hannibal nodded. “I see. Now you are free again, how do you suppose the Ripper will react to the news?”
“Maybe he’ll get me a ‘welcome home’ present,” she muttered dryly.
The corners of Hannibal’s mouth twitched, but he said nothing more. The pair continued to dry the dishes in silence.