WRATH: A Hannigram Fanfiction

9- Les Mensonges

"Nick Boyle's fingerprints and hair were all over Cassie's body, as well as the antlers she was impaled on."
The words came from the speaker of Will's phone, overheard thanks to Hannibal's eavesdropping expertise. The news did not surprise Hannibal one bit, given what he had seen, but Will looked horrified. Boyle's little show must have been convincing enough; that, or the perpetrator really didn't suit the crime in Will's mind. Will glanced over at Hannibal, inching closer once he realized he was listening in.
"That means--"
"He killed her," Jack confirmed. "I've got a team on the way to the Hobbs home. I need you to keep him there. Cuff him, whatever you need to do. Don't let him get away, Will. Should be fifteen to twenty minutes."
Will chewed on his lip. "Can the officer here do it?"
"It's not county business. If you want to make him aware, you can, but do not under any circumstance let him do anything about it. If he arrests Boyle, then this will all be a fat fucking mess." Will flinched at Jack's angry tone.
"I'll keep him," Will replied. "He'll be here when your guys get here."
"Be careful." Jack hung up the phone without another word. He was so disrespectful, that one.
"We were right, Will," Hannibal said quietly, snapping Will out of his thoughts. "Two killers. Cassie was obviously an amateur job."
"Ridiculous," Will growled, disgust written on his face. He then stiffened, sighing in frustration. "Damn, I don't have any cuffs. I'll have to let the officer know. Get him away from here, then cuff him. We have reason for arrest."
He took off for the front of the cabin before Hannibal could respond. Hannibal felt a rush of pride; Will could have waited quietly until the vigil was over and then stall for time, but instead he was choosing to confront Nicholas directly. It was a brave move. Possibly foolish, but brave all the same.
He slowly ambled over to where Will was talking to the officer. Judging by the expression on Will's face, he wasn't getting anywhere, which was to be expected. The officer had a gut so large that the only thing he would be good for in a crime scene was being used as a shield, and he was looking at Will like he was an annoying child. 
"Sir," Will was begging with him when Hannibal reached them, "this is extremely important--"
"Officer," Hannibal joined in, making Will startle so badly he almost left the ground. He looked over at Will apologetically-- he had the tendency to sneak-- before nodding towards his partner. "Give him the handcuffs, please."
There was just enough command in his voice and his eyes to turn the officer into putty. He looked afraid, and without question he reached into his pocket and handed the steel cuffs over to Will. After a moment of hesitation, Will took them and shook his head, as if he couldn't believe what was happening. When he turned away, Hannibal couldn't help himself; he winked, sending a surprised smile to Will's face. The sight made him brighten.
"Thanks," Will said.
"I'll take care of more interviews," Hannibal replied. "Go get Boyle."
It wasn't a complete lie. He did plan on taking care of more interviews at some point, but for now he was more interested in watching Will. "You never spoke to me," he said to the dazed officer before leaving him to his own devices. He scanned the slowly dissipating crowd and spotted Will talking to Nicholas, concern etched on his face as he gently spoke to him. He gestured towards the empty cabin, where the front door was propped open a crack, and Nicholas nodded in agreement.
And with great curiosity, Hannibal watched Will lead Nicholas Boyle into the empty cabin.
Something interesting was going to happen, but he wasn't sure what. He should have feared for Will's safety, knowing who Nicholas was, but he also knew who Will was. Deep inside, he knew that Will wouldn't let someone as worthless as Nicholas Boyle be the one to kill him. If needed, Will would bare his teeth and strike. Hannibal felt no impending sense of danger, so instead he let that instinct carry him. He leaned up against the house in an attempt to appear casual, his ears tuned into whatever was going on inside. If the gun went off, he would certainly hear it.
He tilted his head to the sky and waited.
After a few minutes, the unmistakable sound of a gunshot rang through the house. A silence was cast throughout the crowd, who all turned their heads to find the source of the sound. Hannibal imagined the seconds ticking by, the Earth rotating on a miniscule scale, and he imagined it all coming to a halt. He froze the cogs of the Earth's clock, and the entire group of people on the lawn fell unnaturally still.
     As he strained to hear what was happening, there was a faint cry, one that he recognized to be Will's. That little noise was enough— he rushed for the front door.
The doorknob gave way under his grip so easily that, had he not seen the deadbolt, he wouldn't have known it was locked. Nothing like that was going to stop him from getting what he wanted.
The house was still quiet. No hushed voices, no sounds of fighting or the unmistakable squelch of a body being dismembered. Just labored, panicked breathing coming from a room across the entry. Hannibal moved towards it, coming to a stop in the doorway of the cabin's den.
There, on the wooden floor, was the dead body of Nicholas Boyle. His arms rested on his stomach, where a bullet hole gushed with blood, and his head had been blown into pieces from the temple. Blood was all over the rug, the dark green couch stained with crimson.
Will was on his knees, his back pressed against the wall. His white shirt was dotted with blood, and small droplets sat on the lenses of his glasses. He didn't seem to notice Hannibal's entrance, instead locked in a thousand-yard stare. His pistol lay next to him, his hands trembling as he clawed away at the skin of his fingers like an animal.
Hannibal went to him and crouched down. The red pool had stopped widening, nowhere near reaching them, but Will still stared at the liquid like it was toxic. Hannibal took Will's hands and held them to stop the picking; the skin resembled raw meat, blood and all. Will didn't register the touch. He shifted to look Will in the eyes. His were glazed, petrified. His bottom lip quivered. Hannibal waved a hand in front of Will's face, but there was no response.
"Will." He snapped his fingers. Nothing. "Will, come back to me." Rubbed his shoulder. Nothing.
He reached out and cradled Will's face in his hands, swiping the blood off his cheeks with his thumbs. His skin was warm. This, Hannibal thought, is a face that I would like to sketch. Every detail was perfect, the face of a deity. He stared for a moment, cataloguing every detail, before Will began to blink.
"There you are," Hannibal said softly. "Hello, Will. You're in shock. Can you hear me?"
"I killed him." Tears swam in his eyes. "I killed him.."
"I know you did. Can you tell me what happened?"
"He's dead. I shot him."
"I know."
"He was..he was going to kill me. He choked me." Will reached for his throat. Hannibal noticed the skin there was bruised, and he felt a rush of anger. He had no sympathy for Nicholas Boyle. "He wanted to kill me like he killed Cassie."
"It's okay, Will," Hannibal said. "You were defending yourself."
"No," Will grabbed onto Hannibal's arm. "Look at him. I did it twice. I didn't..I didn't have to, but I shot him twice.." He buried his face in his hands. "I'm a monster."
"That doesn't matter. Look at me." Hannibal shook Will's shoulder. "We can let Jack and his team find this, or I can help you. We can work together to hide this."
"I didn't want to..kill anyone. I didn't want to.."
"I know, Will. I know. Do you want me to help you hide this? We can fix this."
Will shook his head. "We can't hide this. We don't have time. Jack's coming..."
Hannibal refused to be a slave to time. "We do have time."
"No." Will glanced at his watch, shaking it once he realized that the second hand had stopped its ticking minutes ago. He glanced up, fear sinking in. "Oh, shit..."
"We have all the time in the world." Hannibal lowered his voice, keeping it soft and soothing. He needed Will to be calm. "Now, tell me the truth. Do you want to make this go away?"
Will nodded without a second thought. "Yes," he begged. "Jack can't find this. I'm not allowed to have the gun...I could get suspended. Fired." He looked ashamed of himself, like he couldn't believe what he'd done. "I was stupid to even bring it."
"Frankly, I'm glad you had the gun. It clearly saved you."
The reassurance didn't comfort Will. "I'm such a fucking idiot.."
"Hey. Look at me." He rested his hand on the back of Will's neck and brought their heads close together. "Just calm down. Look right at me. Look deeply into my eyes."
Will obeyed, his eyes watery and intense. "Be calm," Hannibal said. "Feel your body settling. It's going to be alright, okay? I am going to help you."
Will's trembling slowly stopped, and he began to take deeper and deeper breaths. He closed his eyes and sighed, leaning forward until their foreheads touched. "Help me. Please."
"Yes." Hannibal stroked his hair. "Listen very carefully, Will. I need you to do exactly as I say, alright?"
He gave Will the easier tasks: handling Boyle's feet instead of his mangled head, wiping prints off of the gun. Hannibal spent the time crafting a convincing story, which he then had to repeat over and over again in his head until he began to believe it himself. He hadn't been present for the shooting; who knows what actually happened? He wouldn't be lying, as the only evidence he had was Will's word. Giving his interpretation was much different from telling a lie.
He repeated the story to Will, satisfied when it spilled from his lips rather than catching in his throat. Lies were physical burdens to him, like spurs cutting through his neck and getting stuck behind his tongue. It was another one of his punishments from God, who didn't want a liar tainting his beloved humans. Lucifer was nothing if not clever, though; there was always a loophole.
Will absently echoed him, only half aware of what he was saying. He kept staring at the pistol, his fingers curling into the shape they'd been when he'd held it. Hannibal helped him off the ground, and he blinked rapidly as he came to his senses.
"And with that," Hannibal told him, "we have a suicide."
"Shit," Will whispered. "I'm a liar. I'm a liar and a hypocrite and—"
     "You are strong. And you are alive."
     This silenced Will.
"Are you alright if I resume things, or do you need a minute?"
"...Can I ask you something?"
"Only if I can in return." It was an instinctual answer, spilling out before he could even think about it. He never gave to humans without something in return; Will, on the other hand, was a completely different story. He could give the world and expect nothing in return.
"You've done this before, haven't you?"
It was like a scythe to Hannibal's chest, tearing open his middle and exposing the fragile parts of himself. Will could see past his person suit, could see what he was really capable of. It should have been horrifying, but Will continued to stand beside him.
"You're a killer. You..you've killed people, and you hid it."
"Yes."
Hannibal waited for Will to scream or lash out or run or cry or even recoil in disgust-- but he did none of these things. He just looked intrigued. "Why?"
Such a simple question. Such a convoluted answer. One that Will didn't have the knowledge to understand. But the fact that he was curious was Hannibal's lifeline. Will could really see him, and yet he still chose to stay. He approached it with curiosity rather than disgust.
"I'm afraid I can't answer that."
Will began to walk away.
"I didn't get my question."
He stopped.
"You had him debilitated already. Why did you shoot him in the head?"
Will stared at the floor.
"Doesn't have to be anything complex, Will. What came to your mind in that moment?"
Will's answer was better than anything he could have hoped for. He turned his head to look back at Hannibal, lips pressed into a thin line. "..He was going to scream."
Hannibal watched, stunned, as he walked away.
Oh, how lovely. What a precious, reckless, unpredictable little man.
He couldn't ask for anything better.