WRATH: A Hannigram Fanfiction

16- La Bénédiction

     Hannibal Lecter stood silently behind a set of wooden doors, hidden on the west wall of an old Virginia barn. The sun had set during the drive over, giving him the opportunity to hide in the shadows, and he was a master at remaining quiet and calm. He waited patiently for Will to knock on the front doors of the barn and initiate their plan.
     And there it came: three hard knocks from Hannibal's right. "Mr. Elliot Budish?" Will called out. "Are you in there?"
     Hannibal caught a glimpse of someone moving across the barn, their footsteps so quiet that he would hardly know to listen for them. It was a whisper of a man, slight and dark with a shaky disposition. He wasn't close enough for Hannibal to catch his smell. He didn't look like a threat— but that's how the best of them got you.
"Hello?" The man asked, his voice high, as he peeked out the front doors.
     "Mr. Budish. My name is Will Graham..."
    Will trailed off, seemingly unsettled. Hannibal heard the doors creak open wider. "Come in," Elliot whispered. "There's something you need to know."
     The only light inside came from a lantern in the middle of the hay-covered floor. Hannibal could only see the middle of the barn, not the very front or back, but it seemed like Elliot knew his way around. Perhaps he had been living here. Perhaps it was the only place he felt safe.
     The same shadow floating across the barn, this time with Will in tow. They passed by the doorway where Hannibal hid, finally stopping near the back wall of the structure. Hannibal frowned; he couldn't see either of them without having to lean in, and there was no way he was going to risk that. He would have to rely on listening.
     There was a long silence, then Elliot sighed. "You're going to think I'm crazy," he said.
     "I won't. I promise."
     "I can see inside of you. I see how haunted you are. You've..you have committed a terrible sin."
     Hannibal could hear Will's breath hitch. "I..I did," he replied. "How did you know?"
      Smart boy. Play along.
     "Of course. Of course. You've done a wonderful thing, coming to me. I can help you." He didn't ask any questions: how did Will find him, how did Will know who he was, all of that was thrown away. Elliot was focused on his delusion and nothing else; the poor man was probably elated to have someone go along with it. "I can cleanse you."
     "You would? Really?" The words were more raw than anything Hannibal had ever heard Will say. He was a talented actor. "Like the others?"
     "You've seen my angels?"
     "Yes. You...you saved them."
     "They were! No one else understands! They're much better off than they were before!" His voice rose quickly.
     "I understand. They're very lucky people." Will sounded just as desperate as Elliot. "I want to be like you. I want you to tell me how I can save people, too."
Elliot stopped, cutting off as soon as Will said those words. The silence was uncomfortable and wary.
"What's wrong?" Will asked, keeping his voice remarkably steady.
"You...no. You have to go. Please."
"Wait, no, did I do something wrong?" Hannibal could hear Will's footsteps: one foot slightly behind the other, thanks to his limp.
"Stay away! Please. You have to go."
"Please, tell me what's wrong." Hannibal could sense Will's frustration. He'd been doing a good job. "Please?"
"There's something in your brain," Elliot said. "I just saw it. Something dark. You don't want to help people. You're just evil." He kept moving backwards, towards his cot. "I can't risk it. You've got something dark in there."
"What happened to me? Can I fix it?"
"Get out of my house. Just get out, now."
     There was a hush across the barn, and neither of the men spoke. Hannibal strained to hear what had happened, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. He couldn't see a thing from this angle.
"Elliot. Please don't. I'll leave."
"The darkness has you. That's what I saw in your mind. It's different from normal darkness. It swallows you. It's swallowing me right now. If you come closer, it'll spread. It'll kill me before I have the chance to make more angels."
"I'll leave, Elliot. I will leave right now. I'll go outside, and I'll stay outside."
      Oh. Whatever was happening, Will thought he could take care of it on his own. Hannibal was confident in him; Will wouldn't let himself be backed into a corner and still refuse to ask for help, right?
"Put the gun down, please—"
"I can't make an angel out of you, sir. I'm sorry. Just..look away from me and leave. Don't turn around, walk backwards. I don't wanna shoot you."
     Of course he would do that. Will would absolutely be that careless. Elliot had a gun.
     No matter what Will told him, he wasn't about to let this go awry. While the two men were likely distracted, Hannibal slowly lowered his head towards the small crack between the doors. He peeked inside, only part of his head visible, and once he saw the glinting silver of the gun he couldn't see anything else. Elliot was slowly lowering the gun, seemingly hesitant, and Hannibal began to stop time. It would just take a few seconds, and then he could grab Will and run..
     But before those few seconds were up, Elliot's arm jerked upwards.
"Will!" Hannibal shouted, knowing that things were about to go horribly wrong. Terror flushed through him, an emotion he wasn't used to. It locked him in place, shutting down any logic in his brain. Do something! His soul called out. Do something, you pathetic wretch!
Will swiveled at the sound of his voice, and a deafening bang echoed through the barn. For a long, miserable second, all Hannibal saw was a large burst of red and Will falling hard to the ground. His heart rose to his throat, stomach dropping, thinking Elliot had gotten him in the head— but no. No. Will was alive on the ground, clutching his injured shoulder. Shocked and hurt, but alive.
The sight was enough to move Hannibal into action. Save Will. That's what he could do.
Stop. Stop, please stop.
Elliot's movements halted, and Hannibal ran over to take the gun out of his hands. He was like a mannequin, his fingers having to be unwrapped from their death grip around the barrel.
Before he could come to his senses, Hannibal slammed the barrel of the gun down on the back of the man's head. He crumpled to the ground, and Hannibal held the gun out of his reach. He prepared to hit Elliot again, but the man's weak body went under with just the one. He resisted the urge to pick him up and snap his neck, tear out his throat with his bare hands and dig in.
A small gasp from behind him. Hannibal spun around.
     Dark blood spilled from Will's shoulder and onto the hay. He was pressing his hand over the wound in a futile effort to stop the stream, but it all just flushed between his fingers. Hannibal rushed to him and knelt down.
     Will didn't seem to register his presence, as his eyes were cloudy and lost. "Will," Hannibal said. "Will, can you hear me?"
     Will responded by groaning in pain, rolling backwards onto the hay. He cried out as Hannibal moved to prop him up, his arms pressed to Will's back. His face had turned white.
"What happened?" Will asked, his throat dry.
     "I'm so sorry, Will. I'm so sorry. I didn't know. It happened so fast." Guilt twisted his insides. He hated himself for not acting quicker. For not seeing things as they were. He had failed. Millennia of experience, life after life of growing used to humans, and he had still failed to predict this.
     "I can't believe he actually shot me," Will replied softly. "It just...it hurts. It hurts so bad. I'm scared."
     "It's going to be okay."
     "Where is he?"
     "I knocked him out. Got him in the head from behind. Everything is okay for now."
     Will's breath was a metallic rasp. "It hurts," he repeated, pawing desperately at Hannibal's arms.
     "I know it hurts. I'm going to help you, alright? But I'm going to have to see the skin."
     Will shook his head violently in protest, but Hannibal moved anyway. He folded down the collar of Will's jacket, then he unbuttoned his shirt and pulled that down as well. Will winced. He could see the red dent in Will's left shoulder, throbbing as it spilled over with blood. It certainly looked bad, but he saw no exposed bone or muscle. The way he'd swiveled to the side had given him luck; it had merely grazed the outer portion of the bicep, taking out a chunk of skin but leaving the rest intact. It looked a lot worse than it actually was. It was something he could handle, which made him feel more confident.
     "Okay, I can see it better now. It's not as bad as you think. It's just bleeding a lot."
     That seemed to do nothing to reassure Will. Hannibal caught a glint of metal out of the corner of his eye, and he reached behind Will to pick up the bloodied bullet from the ground.
     "Look." He held it up. It was warm in his fingers. "It's not stuck in there. You got very lucky, Will. It didn't hit bone, since I don't see any fragments in there."
     Will wasn't listening. "I need to...I need help. Please help me."
     So meek, so dependent. Hannibal would do anything for him. "Of course. I need you to hold still and stay calm, okay? I'm going to fix this."
     "I need to go to the hospital."
     "No. We don't need the hospital. This isn't a bad wound." Going to the hospital would mean that their secret would escape. Everyone would know that they'd gone behind the backs of the FBI, putting both of their careers in jeopardy. Their freedom.
     "What are you gonna do?" He bit back. "You don't have any equipment."
"I don't need it." He ignored the nerves jittering inside of him. This was much different than the little wounds on Will's fingers. He had to make sure that every little bit was cauterized and healed— and that would be painful.
     "I'm going to try something. This is really going to hurt, Will," he said. "Forgive me."
     "What are you doing?"
     He pressed his palm to Will's shoulder and focused. He inhaled, and an otherworldly cold air entered his body. He felt his veins fill up with stars, travelling down to his fingertips and into Will's wound. Small particles of the galaxy altering this weak, material earth. Will watched, confused, and Hannibal felt his whole body tense as the pain began to set in.
One thing we forget about stars is that they are made of flame.
Will gasped. "No. No, shit, stop it, stop!"
     The magic took hold of Will's skin like spurs, pulling the damaged tissue up and over itself. It had to be agonizing.
     Will began to shout. "What are you doing to me?!" His skin began to blister under the intense heat. Hannibal could hear it sizzling. "Hannibal, stop! Stop!"
     He couldn't stop. He felt the wound closing, slowly but surely. It would only get worse from here; the dent had to be cauterized and the scar tissue built. More heat, more pulling.
     But watching Will in pain hurt Hannibal like a stake to the heart. He pulled Will close to him, letting Will's head rest on his shoulder as he cradled the back of Will's neck with his free hand. Will buried his face in Hannibal's shoulder and screamed into the fabric of his jacket. The sound was muffled, but pained all the same.
     "Shhh, shhh. Hush, Will." Hannibal's lips brushed the curve of Will's ear, stunning Will for a moment. "It's going to be alright," he whispered as he felt the embers seep into Will's body. "It'll all be over soon."
     The comfort was futile once Will began to scream again. His body spasmed, animalistic cries of pain spilling from him. Still, Hannibal tried, tightening his grip. Will held onto him like he was on the verge of death-- which, in his mind, he probably was. Hannibal felt Will's teeth sink into his shoulder in an attempt to muffle the pain, hot tears and foaming spit gathering on his clothes. He didn't care. In all honesty, he was more honored than anything. It was nice to know that Will trusted him enough to let himself be held.
      The sensation of stars in his veins finally began to stagnate. He felt the wound seal itself up, patching itself with dark tissue, then the transfer stopped. His skin stopped humming. Will exhaled in relief as it cooled, the heat of the flames being replaced with the cold vacuum of space. Hannibal would be cold for a little while; he always was after a transfer. He didn't mind.
     "There. It's all over. Look." He slowly lifted his palm. He was satisfied with the result: the wound had become significantly smaller, no longer dripping blood. It looked like a scar that had been there for years, puckered and calloused.
     Will sucked in a large gulp of air and pushed himself backwards out of Hannibal's arms. The spell was broken. "What..what.."
     "You're all done." As if he was consoling a child. He wiped off his bloodied hands. "Nothing to be afraid of now."
     "No..."
     "You've lost a lot of blood, though," he remarked, studying Will's pale face. "I need to get you out of here."
     Will's eyes were wide and awestruck. He looked captivated, grateful, worshipping Hannibal in his mind. Hannibal had done the impossible; that always brought him to humans' attention.
     "You need to decide." Hannibal gestured to Elliot. "We need to decide what to do with him so I can get you out of here."
     "I can't. I can't..no. How? How did you do that?"
     "I'm not going to make the choice for you. You won't like what I choose either way. What do we do with the Angel Maker, Will?" It wasn't right to be asking when Will was in such a state, but they couldn't leave without knowing some semblance of a plan.
     "My blood is here." Will looked surprised with himself for saying so. He took in the blood on the ground, soaking in and beginning to make the barn smell of copper. "They'll know I was here."
     "Yes. It's everywhere. But that doesn't matter. Tell me what you want, Will, not what you think you should want. Don't get the two confused."
     Will had that look of a human who just can't think of a proper word, despite how desperately they try to find it in their minds. He tilted his head back, looking dreadfully pale and dizzy. Hannibal remembered his stubborn inefficiency; he had probably been neglecting himself food and water again. They didn't have much time before he would faint.
     Both of them knew that Elliot had caused Will pain, and neither of them were happy about that. This was a different situation from the Shrike case, where he was looking for justice for the innocent girls. Elliot only murdered the sinful, the ones who didn't deserve to live in his eyes. It was like the cycle Will had discussed-- it wouldn't end up becoming a cycle, because would anyone really want to avenge a horrible, sinful person?
Killing Elliot wouldn't be for the justice of those he murdered. No, if Will decided to end Elliot's life, he would do it because Elliot had hurt him. The justice would be served for Will, Elliot's only innocent victim.
     "I can't. I don't...I don't feel good. We-- no. We--"
     He couldn't listen to Will stammering anymore. He needed to draw the answer out of him.
     "Hey." He put his hand on Will's good shoulder. "Tell me what you want. I need you to be completely honest with me. Tell me the first thing that comes to your mind."
Will's blue eyes sparkled. He seemed to finally understand.
     "Kill him," he breathed. "Kill him."
     Hannibal nodded. "Stay here. Rest your body, and I'll take care of everything." He gently pushed Will down onto his side, laying him down. As Will gazed down at the pool of his own blood, then back up to his miraculously healed shoulder, the reality of the situation dawned on him. He whimpered, and his eyes eventually rolled back into his head and fluttered shut.
Hannibal smiled, his wings beginning to stir under his skin. He was so, so proud.
     He was ready to do what Will asked. He would do anything Will asked.