Chapter Text
“Blessed are they that are invited to the marriage supper of the lamb”
Rev. 19.9
The pale moonlight accumulated like ice-drops in the puddles leftover from the rain when Will was on his way home. The streets around him were dimly lit, the flickering stream of orange from the street lamps bathing the houses in a dingy red. And Will smiled, thinking about how these streets would soon no longer carry his footprints.
It had been a hot day, even though it was already late September. Passing by the houses, Will could feel the warmth radiating from the walls, where it had been safely kept during the hours of the day. Like a gift to the night, he thought, to remind everyone that the day wasn’t gone entirely.
In his hand Will held a bottle of red wine. It was the same brand he’d once purchased for a dinner at Hannibal’s home. The one he’d never turned up to. It felt like now the circle was closing.
When he approached their house, his heart-rate sped up a bit from excitement and the pleasant feeling of being welcomed home. Light fell through the window of the kitchen on the sideway and a smoky scent greeted him, trickling through the tilted window. It was the smell of roasting meat, refined by selected spicery and cooking on the exact level of temperature to bring it to a tender texture that melted on one’s tongue, exposing its deliciousness in a bouquet of flavours. Will felt his mouth water at the thought. The exact composition of herbs Hannibal had used wasn’t detectable, but some he could identify. Living with Hannibal had certainly sharpened his sense for aroma. Rosemary, for sure, and thyme, and oregano, maybe.
Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme.
Will smiled at the memory of the song. So innocent a melody, the lyrics simply telling a story of unreturned love. So simple and innocent, that the song had survived centuries; was sung and admired by the saints and sinners of the world. A beauty that revealed itself to the good people as well as to the monsters of mankind; those latter ones that feasted on the former – Will was one of them now.
He entered the house through the front door, which he closed behind him not all so silently, making it clear he was home. Promptly the kitchen door opened in invitation, though Hannibal didn’t come out to greet him.
Entering the kitchen the sound of harpsichord music reached Will’s ear. The melody sounded familiar to him - even though he was sure he’d never heard that particular piece before. He placed the bottle on the table and approached Hannibal from behind, who had his back turned on him, cutting vegetables on the sideboard. When he stood close, he run his fingertips slowly from Hannibal’s lower back up to his neck, barely touching the fabric of the shirt at all. He felt the other shudder under his touch, slowly turning around to face him.
Hannibal’s face wore a soft expression - blissful, almost happy – as he lifted his hand to Will’s chin, tilted his head gently upwards and placed a brief kiss upon his lips. Then he turned his focus back to the vegetables.
Will’s glance drifted to the oven in which a human leg roasted to its completion. It was cut into three pieces, otherwise it wouldn’t have fit into the stove. Upon the kitchen table sat a selection of side dishes: potatoes, mushrooms and a pot of dark sauce.
“This is enough food for ten people,” Will commented.
Hannibal pleasantly watched Will observe the dishes. “Well, it’s certainly enough for four.”
A smile grew on Will’s face, “Where is she?”
“She has already taken her place at the table. You might want to join her, she’s probably feeling rudely neglected by her hosts by now.”
“I’m going to have to change first,” Will threw his jacket over the back of a chair. “And freshen up a bit. It’s been a hot day.”
“Certainly,” Hannibal replied, approaching him once more. “And you should also get rid of these.”
He reached for Will’s glasses and carefully took them off.
“No walls between you and the world tonight.”
Will chuckled. “I’m not hiding behind them, I require them for sight!”
“You can see perfectly well without them,” Hannibal countered, “and also you could make a good use of those contact lenses I bought you, for a change.”
“Like I told you, they make my eyes feel dry after a while. It’s really uncomfortable.”
Hannibal smiled, but there was firmness in his eyes. “Please, do it for me then. I like how you look without them, it makes you look more mature.”
Will smirked at that. “You mean older, right? If you think it makes me look older, say so. Is it because then the age difference between us isn’t that obvious?”
Hannibal stepped back to the counter; Will’s comment had clearly teased him. “You can be sure that this is not what I intended.”
It was funny, Will found, how Hannibal could bear almost every criticism, except if it concerned his age. He was a bit of a diva after all.
“Alright, I’ll be back in half an hour, don’t start without me.” He walked towards the door.
On the threshold Will paused, paying attention to the music once more.
“What melody is this, by the way? I feel like I know it somehow,” he asked.
“Bach’s Goldberg Variation number ten. A Fughetta.”
Will raised his eyebrows in surprise. “I never knew there were more of them. I only ever knew the Aria.”
The smile returned to Hannibal’s face. “There are in fact thirty of them, all based on the same melody and structure. The Aria was the beginning and this is how the story continues.”
♠♣♥♦
Will took a quick shower and then spent an unusual great amount of time on his hair and the choice of clothing. He wanted to look presentable tonight. Nothing left of the dishevelled, insecure young man he used to be. He was a changed man and since Hannibal was having an eye on his appearance, making sure Will dressed himself just as elegantly as he did himself, even if that meant picking out most of his suits and ties for him, Will had evolved into a different creature.
At first it bothered Will, made him feel like he was being denied his own nature, but during the past months of hiding in plain sight, a certain amount of disguise had been necessary and, of course, Hannibal’s skills in accomplishing this task to perfection didn’t fail him. In fact, Will came to like it, seeing the pride in Hannibal’s face when he showed up dressed in tailored jackets and shining leather shoes. He’d also cut his hair, but still had maintained a length at which his curls arranged neatly and didn’t look as messy and unruly as they used to be. Hannibal had pointed out that he preferred the original cut, but saw the necessity of applying minor changes to their former looks.
In Hannibal’s case this had meant dressing inconspicuously; mostly wearing t-shirts, dark jeans and sunglasses whenever he left the house. Will hadn’t been completely able to hide his appreciation for this new look, so Hannibal had allowed him to pick some clothes for him. Needless to say Will had been entirely in his element, even though Hannibal strictly refused to wear any flannel shirts.
After combing his hair and fixing it tidily with some hair gel, he hurried downstairs again, briefly stopping by the kitchen door, deciding whether or not to show off his looks to Hannibal. He eventually opted against it, as he didn’t want to spoil the surprise, and made his way to the dining room.
It was the largest room of the house and the one Hannibal had prepared most carefully, even though it had been clear from the very first moment that this only was to be a temporary home, a shelter until they’d healed up to the point when running away once more was possible. But, of course, it still had to conform to Hannibal’s standards. As long as the opportunity was there, he wouldn’t settle for less than the best.
The room was dimly lit by candles and dominated by a long dining table made of dark brown wood upon which four sets of silver plates and cutlery were arranged. The heavy ashen drapes were drawn closed to keep curious eyes out - after all, the scene that was about to take place would offer a most extraordinary sight.
At the long side of the table sat Bedelia, wearing a dark, feathered dress that didn’t entirely cover the bandages at the point where her leg had been cut off. With her eyes closed and appearing superficially calm, though Will could see her hands trembling, she sat there motionless, fingers clenching tightly to the edge of the table. She’d obviously been sedated, but she was conscious. Will heard her draw in a sharp breath when she sensed his appearance. Slowly she lifted her eyelids.
“Good evening, Will.”
“Good evening, Dr. Du Maurier.”
Will approached the chair by her right hand side and stood behind it, resting his hands on the back. He smiled at her. It was the smile a butcher had for his fattest pig; a promise. It said: I will devour you.
“Wouldn’t you like to sit down, Will, and offer your guest some entertainment? I’m so terribly curious to learn what you’ve engaged in during the past few months.”
Her voice was calm and she spoke slowly as usual, but there was a hint of fear and surrender in it. The dark foreshadowing of how this evening might turn out for her.
“Oh, in fact, I can’t wait to tell you,” Will replied, stepping closer to her and lowering his lips to her ear, “but I’m afraid you need to wait for some longer. We are awaiting one more guest and it wouldn’t do to start conversation without him. There is going to be enough time for discussion once dinner is served.”
Bedelia sniffed at that. “You even sound like him!”
Will offered her a smile. “I can’t help it, I’m afraid. He’s been in my head for a long time, intended and unintended.”
“You left too much space for him there,” Bedelia said, sadness contouring her eyes. “In the end it was easy for him to nest. An unstable mind like yours is an excellent breeding ground for his dark ideas. Though I can’t say I’m surprised that you’ve finally welcomed him there. You foster dark intentions, too, don’t you? What ideas have you planted in his mind?”
Will’s smile widened into a grin. “You are invited to a cannibal’s dinner tonight, Bedelia. I don’t think there is a need for more dark ideas in his mind.”
Surprisingly, her features softened. “Then, my dear Will,” she said, “you are not entirely making use of your remarkable position.”
Before Will could process what exactly she’d been meaning by that, the named cannibal appeared in the door, unfastening his apron while approaching the table.
“Ah, I see you’re already deep in conversation. I’m very pleased to find you’ve accepted my invitation, Bedelia. Will, could you maybe help me open this knot here? It seems I’ve tied it up a bit too tightly.”
“Not like I had much of a choice,” Bedelia muttered while Will was fidgeting with the ribbons of Hannibal’s apron, finally freeing him from it.
She witnessed a smile exchange between her two hosts when Hannibal turned around and once more she had the feeling that all the space in the room was occupied by them and their own subspace; an atmosphere in which every other person simply stopped to exist for both of them. In these moments she wasn’t even sure if she was actually there or just observing the scene through a window, through space and time.
Will turned his head to Bedelia and the moment faded away. The apron thrown over his shoulder, Hannibal returned to the door, rearranging the cutlery when passing. “I’m going to fetch our second guest now. If you were so kind as to have an eye on the meat, Will. I think it will be cooked in short time.”
Will nodded and Bedelia frowned. She had already suspected that she would not be the cannibals only company for this evening - after all there was a fourth setting on the table – but whoever it was, she hoped for him (or her) not to be hungry.
When Will disappeared into the kitchen, Hannibal turned to Bedelia once more.
“My dearest Bedelia, already causing trouble it seems,” he tutted at her.
“Well it seems to me that you are not entirely in control of your apprentice,” she replied, her eyes never leaving his.
“That is not what he is. I have long given up the attempt to make him a student of mine. We are equals now, his skills are in no way inferior to mine. He’s constantly discovering new aspects of himself and I’m gladly helping him on this journey until his becoming is completed.”
Bedelia beamed him a scornful glance. “Very soon you will be in no position of shaping his becoming anymore, since you offered him insight into the one vulnerable part of you: The loneliness in your heart. It’s what is making you weak, Hannibal.”
Though he tried to hide it, Hannibal felt a sting in his chest at hearing Bedelia’s words. After all that had happened to her, she still hadn’t lost her brilliance and ability to point out the exact weak spot of every personality. She was, without doubt, a very good psychiatrist. And when it was his voice that Will was hearing inwardly, in his own case, even though seldomly, it was hers.
“I disagree with you, but unfortunately there is no time for a lengthy discussion like this at the moment, so we better postpone it. Excuse me for now, I have to call our dear old friend Jack to the table and when I’m back I hope to find you in a better mood; in fact, we do have something to celebrate this evening, don’t we?”
After he’d left the room, Bedelia sat motionless for some more minutes, simply concentrating on her breathing and trying to calm her shaking hands. Then, carefully and slowly, she took the shiny fork from next to her plate and placed it in her lap. Her hosts weren’t the only ones to get their piece of meat this evening.
♠♣♥♦
When Hannibal returned, dragging Jack’s limp body with him, both arms around his waist, Will awaited him, standing in the doorframe of the kitchen and meticulously polishing one of their expensive wine glasses. The hall was brimming with the smell of a delicious roast; it found its way into every corner and carried the promise of a unique feast.
“It’s good to see you again, Jack,” Will greeted their guest, not sure if the other was able to hear him in his benumbed state. “We are so glad you could make it.”
Hannibal joined him in his smirking. The fact that none of their guests came on free will didn’t bother either of them.
“What did you drug him with?” Will asked Hannibal.
“It’s the same substance that Cordell used on you years ago, a strong muscle relaxant that paralyzes the body, but doesn’t affect the brain, so the sensory perception isn’t impaired.”
Will came closer, studying Jacks slack face curiously.
“How lucky you are, Jack.” Only the eyes of the man were slowly moving in his direction. “We would of course never deny you the pleasure of enjoying such an exquisite meal with us, even though you will hardly be able to give us all the credit for it, since I presume your tongue is not in full function at the moment.”
“I’ve applied the drug locally in varying doses,” Hannibal explained “so he will for example be able to move one of his arms by the time we start dinner. After all, I’m not very keen on feeding him.”
“Neither is he, or are you, Jack?” Will asked, tilting his head downwards until he was on eye level with their guest.
There, in his eyes, he could see pure consternation. No fear, no sadness, not even disbelief, just the merciless realisation of a nightmare come true. He had trusted Will, until the end and beyond it. He hadn’t been stupid, but blind. In a way, Will felt sorry for him; he’d lost one half of his team to the other half that had deceived him. In the end he was a lonely warrior.
Since Jack’s limp body was of a considerable weight, Will took his free arm, pulled it over his own shoulder and together he and Hannibal dragged the FBI director to his seat by Bedelia’s side, who watched them curiously. If she was surprised in any way, she didn’t let it show.
Jack wasn’t able to keep himself in an upright posture, so Hannibal secured him with some ropes, thin but tear proof, which he wound around his torso and the back of the chair.
“I never figured you to be one who sits comfortably with silence,” Hannibal said while tightening the rope, “never one to be loss at words, but tonight I’d like you to be quiet and listen. You may learn one or two things.”
Jack and Bedelia sat close to each other, but not close enough to touch. Their glances met, but none of them said a word. Maybe they were too afraid, because the lions were still in the room, or maybe there was just nothing to say. Jack’s eyes said Why?, Bedelia’s frown said You know why.
Will looked at them both in warning. Do not even try.
After another moment Hannibal broke the silence by announcing dinner was now ready to be served.
The candles were lit, soft classical music was playing in the background and the air was drenched with anticipation. Will couldn’t tell exactly what was about to happen, how this evening was about to turn out, but he found that he didn’t care. They would get away; there was no doubt about that. After all, they were in full control of what was happening to their guests, weren’t they?