✔️ Only I Can Feel You | Hannigram | Rye Ambrose

8

Hannibal smiled, brushing off Will's suspicion. "Your little canine family isn't unfamiliar at the BAU. Jack told me of your love for strays." He tilted his head towards Graham's leg. "You also have various dog hairs on your pant legs. Common signs of a dog owner."

Will leaned back, gazing off to the side. Hannibal's gaze tingled on his skin. "Speaking of dogs," he said, "one of mine—Buster—recently passed away."

He glanced back at Hannibal, catching a glint in his eye. But within a blink, it was gone, leaving him thinking he just imagined it.

"He was a healthy dog," continued Will. "I'm also cautious of what I feed them, so he couldn't have been poisoned. No..."

Will sat up in his seat, eyes lighting up. "Tell me, Dr. Lecter. What do you think of the tales behind Death? The countless stories about him?"

Hannibal paused for a moment, eyes glinted and smile widened. "I'd love to answer your question, Will, but first I'd like to ask the reason behind such an inquiry. What led you to ask me that today?"

Will forced down a smile, concealing his passion on the subject. Show too much enthusiasm, he reminded himself, and you might just get caught.

"I've always been fascinated with the concept," said Will, choosing and neglecting certain reasons and descriptions of his infatuation with Death. "Fancied it, even as a kid. I mean, just the thought of some gracious being behind the act..." His eyes lit up. "It's entirely captivating."

Hannibal let Will's words bleed through the air for a moment's silence. "What ignited this passion of yours?"

Graham paused, thought over a plausible response. "The mystery behind it all," he elected to answer simply. "How the concept... draws to you."

"I've noticed that your recent cases have drawn the hand of Death. Tell me, what do you think of that? How does it make you feel?"

Will leaned back in his seat. "It's one of the reasons I came here. I'm not... bothered by it, but I am quite suspicious. After all these years, is he finally ready to show himself?" He fought back a smile. "Other than the suspicion, I'm elated. I've always wanted to meet Death."

"So you believe the tales—that Death indeed takes mortal form?"

"Mortality... I have a feeling the concept doesn't mingle with Death. I'm sure he's able to deter all forms of... pain or emotion." Will paused. "But, yes, I believe he walks among us. Even more than before, with all the evidence from the cases."

He gazed at Hannibal, examining his features. "You still haven't answered my question."

"Death is indeed real," whispered Hannibal. "Walking silently through people, gracing them with his touch. Deciding or enforcing the ends of lives. Tell me, Will, have you ever considered the task of Undertaking to be passed down generations?"

"I don't think I understand," said Will, stunned by his confident, chilling words.

"Do you think Death could have offspring? Pass down his gift to his children?"

Will blinked, the thought absolutely foreign to him. "I always assumed a process similar to reincarnation. Or a mortal form that couldn't age."

"You'd be surprised by how many variations of the story there are," mused Hannibal. "Needless to say... which one is the true form?"

A comfortable silence fell between them, and Hannibal took the time to examine Will's physique. "I wonder, Will—have you any insight on the Four Horsemen?"

"Of course," said Will. "Famine, War, Conquest—"

"And Pestilence," finished Hannibal. "The tale that I believe describes Death as the leader of these horsemen." His eyes glimmered. "Have you ever thought that they, too, might possess a mortal form?"

Will blinked, head spinning at all these possibilities. "Anything's possible."

"And possible, it is," said Hannibal with a knowing smile, tilting his head at Will. He crossed his legs. "Let's get back to the reason you came to see me today. Death has been following your cases—tainting the crime scenes."

"Or making his own."

Hannibal smiled at that, knowing exactly what he meant. Michael Hanson, who died—peacefully—by the soothing hand of Death.

"He left a message," said Will. "On our recent case. Sonya Glazir."

Hannibal's eyes glimmered. "What did it say?"

"It was just the letter 'I,'" muttered Will, brows furrowing. "My question is: was it really a message? Death possibly couldn't think of even... speaking to me."

Hannibal smiled wide. "You'd be surprised, Will. After all, Death works in many ways."

"But what is that even supposed to mean? If it wasn't just an accidental touch, than that letter has to symbolize something."

"Perhaps Death intends to continue the message. Keep you at the edge of your seat." Hannibal tilted his head, eyes alight. "Curiosity bleeds in all blood, after all. You know what I think, Will?"

Will looked up, eyes searching.

"I think Death wants to test you."

...

Death... wanting to test him?

Will stared out over the lake, mind simply milling about. Sunset bled over the horizon, softly warming the melted snow over brittle grass. In the lake, fish stirred, impatient with the corroding ice. He watched the view lazily, slowly turning his head back when the crunch of snow-grass sounded through the trees.

"I thought I'd find you here," said Crawford, voice soft. He sat down on the stones, sighing as he joined the sight-seeing. After a moment of silence, he spoke up. "How was therapy with Dr. Lecter?"

Will shrugged. "I don't find him that interesting."

"He's a good therapist."

Will lazily stared at the trickling river, mind slugging through thoughts. "Jack," he said, earning a hum. "Do you think Death would converse with mortals?"

Crawford stared for a moment, and his brows furrowed in thought. "No, I don't think so," he muttered. "Millions of people die a day. He'd never have time for talk."

Will nodded.

"But," chimed Jack, "there are many things in this world we can't even think to comprehend."

That only unsettled Will further. He snapped from his trance when Jack firmly pat his shoulder. "I'll see you tomorrow," he bid, standing. "Get some sleep."

"I try," said Will, watching Crawford leave. He turned back to the calm, semi-frozen waters, relishing in the view.

He wouldn't be sleeping very well. Not with all these new questions about Death.

Thanks for reading, and have a wonderful day! <3

-ambrose