Sorry this took so long! I was writing stuff for spacedogs week (you can find it on my ao3 account), and then I started Uni and had no time. Anyway, I hope this is the ending you all hoped for!

Chapter warnings: Will being a sad smol, graphic violence and dead bodies, homophobia.

i got all i need

when you're here loving me

fire meet gasoline

burn with me tonight

"What do you think we should do?"

"It's obvious she knows something about our involvement that could be detrimental to our lives here."

"Something she will undoubtedly tell everyone, and then they'll all know," Will mutters, watching as his dogs run around the yard, happy and fed, not a care in the world. "Killing her would be like giftwrapping the truth."

"Unfortunately, it is inevitable that they discover our secret," Hannibal murmurs, snaking an arm around Will's waist and bringing him closer. "It is only a matter of whether or not we want Miss Lounds alive."

Will leans into Hannibal's embrace, relishing the warmth the other man offers in the chilled air. "We may as well have some fun."

Hannibal places a soft kiss to the top of Will's forehead, lips stretching into a smile. "I was hoping you would say that."

Will smiles back, the serenity of their morning returning.

"We'd have to flee afterwards. Otherwise we'll get caught."

"I can arrange that," Hannibal tells him. "I can arrange a perfect getaway, just the two of us, if that is what you want."

"I'd have to leave my dogs behind."

Hannibal sighs, eyes following the wagging tails of Will's beloved dogs. To him, they mean next to nothing, but he understands the affection Will feels, and he wishes he didn't have to ruin that.

"Yes," he says, voice quiet. "I'm sorry, my dear boy, but I cannot get seven dogs on an aeroplane without raising suspicion."

Will nods and turns in Hannibal's embrace, moving so his face buries in the crook of the older man's neck, his cheek rubbing against the fabric of his jacket. "Will you let me get new ones?" he murmurs, arms enclosing around Hannibal's waist.

Hannibal pulls him close, an almost unsettling warmth spreading through his chest at Will's open affection. "I'll give you anything your heart desires, Will."

Will pulls back slightly, just enough so he's able to see Hannibal's face. He smiles at the fondness he finds, his mind automatically contrasting it with the way the other man looks while killing someone.

He leans up, mouth pressing against Hannibal gently before saying, "Give me a day or two to figure out my dogs."

They move inside once the dogs tire, and though it takes some convincing, Will manages to get Hannibal to lie in his bed, arms wrapped around Will while the dogs sleep around them.

"This is unhygienic."

"I don't care," Will tells him, snuggling into his side while an arm remains stretched out, fingers threading through the soft fur of Winston's head. "Besides, I want to spend some time with them before they go."

"Would you prefer I leave?"

"No," he says, stifling a yawn. "Jack may have ruined our morning, but I still want my post-sex cuddling."

Hannibal huffs a laugh, his fingers playing with Will's soft curls. "Perhaps a nap is in order."

"Mmhm, that's exactly what I wanted to hear."

The last to go is Bean.

Will holds her till the new owner comes; her small body tucked against his as he pets her absentmindedly. It had been harder than he'd thought, saying goodbye. Each of his dogs had held a special place in his heart, and it was sad to see them go, their little faces confused as he waved goodbye for the last time.

The sound of a car pulls him from his trance, and he goes to the front porch to meet Bean's new family. A young woman and her young daughter step from the car, the little girl's face split in a wide, excited grin as she sees the puppy in Will's hands.

He'd made sure each of his dogs would go to a loving family, where they'd be taken care of sufficiently. He smiles through the lump in his throat as the girl reaches him, crouching down to safely put Bean on the floor, her tail wagging with the girl's enthusiasm.

The girl's giggle fills the air as Bean licks her face, and Will's smile comes easier as he watches on. He stands to shake hands with the mother, accepting her gratitude with a simple nod.

It's a quick exchange. He helps them pile Bean's things into the car, scratching behind her ears one last time before the door shuts on him and the little family drive away, gavel crunching under the tires.

He moves back inside only when the car disappears from sight, the lump returning to his throat as he looks around, the absence of his dogs and their beds, their toys, tugging at his heart.

He sits back down in his previous spot, his hand reaching for the glass of whiskey on the table next to him. His spare hand wipes at the dog hair still dirtying his furniture, and he downs the remaining alcohol before pulling his phone out.

He calls Hannibal, sighing in relief when the man answers on the second ring.

"Hello, Will."


"Are you alright?"

"Yeah," he sighs, rubbing at his eye. "Just… what are you doing?"

"Organising some paperwork," Hannibal answers, and Will can hear him walking around on the other end of the phone. "I was just about to call you."


"Mm. I need to know if you would rather be an Antonio or an Eloan."


"So we can leave the country without gaining too much attention. Using our real names would lead the authorities right to us."

"Do I even want to know how you know how to do that?"


"Right," Will murmurs, lips tugging into a smile. "I suppose I'll be Antonio."

"Excellent," Hannibal tells him. "I'll have everything in order within a day or two."

"And then we just have to deal with Freddie."


"How do we get close to her without raising suspicion."

"We could grant an interview."

"That would raise suspicion," Will says, moving to pour himself another drink.

"It is the easiest way to do it, and it won't matter if people think it odd. The truth will be out shortly."

"I suppose," Will says, sipping the whiskey. "I'll send her an email and let you know what she says."

"Please do," Hannibal murmurs. "In the meantime, would you tell me why you sound so upset?"

"All of my dogs are gone."

"Ah," Hannibal sighs, nodding on his end of the conversation. "Is there anything I can do to cheer you up?"

"Do you think you can stay on the phone for a little while?"

"Of course, Will."

He reads and rereads the email ten times; rewriting it at least twice before he settles on something he's happy with, something that won't set off any warning bells. It's only short, but that's all he needs. Will knows it won't take much to lure Freddie.

As he suspects, the confirmation email comes within the hour. They decide upon a time and date for an interview, and he's persistent in making sure it's at his home, not Freddie's or Hannibal's. It'll be easier that way.

Once it's finalised, he leaves to tell Hannibal.

Hannibal smells him instantly.

The tang of the now familiar aftershave assaults his nostrils as he enters his office, and he looks up, gaze trailing over the balcony until he spots Will, body hunched in a spot between his books and the banister.


"Where were you?"

Hannibal moves to the ladder, hands resting on either side as he tilts his neck back to look up. "With my psychiatrist."


"Did you think something bad had happened?"

"I… I don't know. You didn't answer your phone."

Will shows no inclination to come down to the main floor, so Hannibal climbs up to him. He looks to the ground, contemplating for a moment before taking a seat next to Will. Close, but not touching.

"It was off. Bedelia is… particular about that sort of thing. Seeing as I insist on her therapy, it would be rude to not comply."

He stares at Will, the tension in his shoulders, the worry creased in the lines of his face.

"Is something the matter?"

Will sighs, head falling to the side to rest on Hannibal's shoulder, his eyes closing for a moment. "No…no, I'm just anxious. I thought something may have gone wrong."

Hannibal lifts his arm, warps it around Will's shoulders so the man's face rests against his chest. "Surprisingly, everything seems to be going smoothly."

Will nods against his chest, the fabric of Hannibal's suit rustling with the movement. "I heard from Freddie."

"What did she say?"

"We have an interview at my place tomorrow night. At least, I have an interview," he huffs a laugh, the noise barely audible in the office. "She said you're more than welcome to come, if you can."

"I don't think I'll be missing that," he answers, fingers tucking a stray curl behind Will's ear. "Have you eaten?"

"Not yet."

"We can't have that," he says, reluctantly pulling away from Will. Standing, Hannibal reaches a hand out, helping the other man to his feet and watching as he climbs down the ladder.

"I have leftovers and wine," he says, once they're both on the main floor. "However, if that doesn't rid you of your anxiety, I know something else that will."

Will grins, "Maybe dinner can wait then?"

It's dusk when Will hears Freddie's car pull into his driveway. Sun and clouds low in the sky, a beautiful orange-y pink lighting his farm as he goes to meet her on the porch.

"I didn't think there'd be a day where you agreed to an interview, Graham."

"Neither did I."

He doesn't meet Freddie's gaze as she steps on his porch, choosing instead to stare out into the fields, where he knows Hannibal lurks.

"Where's Doctor Lecter?"

"He'll be joining us later," Will replies, lips turning in a tight lipped smile as he finally looks at her. "Shall we begin?"

He doesn't offer her refreshments, doesn't even open the door to allow her in his home. He has no intention of letting their talk last long; he'll get the bit of information he wants, and then…

Freddie flicks the switch of her recording device, waiting for it to start up before asking; "What made you agree to an interview?"

"I want to know what you know about Michael Spencer."

"So he does mean something to you?"

"The name sounded familiar," Will says. "I finally remembered why."

"You're his murderer."

"I didn't know he was dead."

Freddie cocks an eyebrow, not buying his lie. Will doesn't blame her.

"Do you really think I'm that stupid?"

Will smiles, eyes flicking from her to the woods in front of them and back again.

"Say I did kill him," Will murmurs, hand reaching into his pant pocket, his thumb twiddling with the damp cloth hidden it in. "How would you know?"

"I have sources."

"What sources?"

"I got an anonymous tip. It didn't take much to figure out the rest."

"Do you always believe your anonymous tips?"

"The evidence matched," Freddie answers, a look of realisation dawning on her face. "You did kill him. But why tell me?"

Will remains silent, hand firmly gripping the cloth. He can see Freddie growing more and more nervous with each passing second, as if she can sense the impending doom.

"Are you hoping it will work in your favour? Admit the act for a lesser sentence?"

"You think I'm afraid to do time?"

"You should be," Freddie replies quickly. "Pretty ex-cop like you? You wouldn't last long."

"I know how to defend myself."

Freddie ignores his statement. "I want to know one more thing, before I call Jack Crawford."

"What's that?"

"What does Hannibal Lecter have to do with it?"

Will smiles, his teeth bared. "Why do you assume he has something to do with it?"

"He has something to do with everything," Freddie says, head tilting to the side. "You'd be surprised what some people have to say about him."

"I don't particularly care what some people say about him."

"You should," Freddie tells him. "What exactly is your relationship with him? Partners? In crime or otherwise? Do you frolic around, killing people together while playing the FBI?"

Will chuckles, the sound almost too loud in the open area. It's darker now, the sun lower, the sky a more greyish blue than a striking orange; dim enough for Freddie to not see him remove the cloth from his pocket.

He moves swiftly. One arm reaches forward to pull her against his chest, his grip firm despite her struggles. He quickly places the chloroform soaked fabric against her mouth, holding it there forcefully until she makes a loud, gasping sound, mouth opening in need of air, involuntarily inhaling the chemicals.

From the corner of her eye, Freddie sees Hannibal emerge from the woods. Seconds later, her vision goes black, and her body goes limp against Will's.

Will removes the cloth and steps back, letting her body drop to the floor face first. He places a foot on her back, pressing down with just enough to pressure to keep her pinned when she regains consciousness.

Stepping onto the porch, Hannibal smiles at him. His eyes are alight, almost carefree, as he leans across Freddie's body to place a chaste kiss to Will's mouth.

"Brilliant, my darling, deadly boy," he murmurs, voice a mere whisper.

Will grins at the endearment, a hand reaching to grab Hannibal's.

"Now for the real fun."

Jack slams the pone down, the urge to scream almost consuming him.

Fourteen times. He'd called fourteen times and had gotten no response from Will. Just the same, standard, monotone voicemail. Hannibal's phone hadn't even rung.

He stands, wiping at his face angrily before walking out the room. He doesn't have time to wait for them any longer.

Stopping in the door of the break room, he points in the general direction of Beverly, Brian, and Jimmy. "You three," he calls, voice loud, almost a shout. "Let's go."

Giving each other a look, the three of them stand, quickly moving to Jack's side and following him out the door.

"What happened?" Brian asks once it's obvious no one else will.

"Freddie Lounds is missing. We were supposed to have an interview today, she's not answering."

"Ohh," Brian nods. "You think something happened?"

"I think the Ripper happened."

"Are you sure she's not just being difficult?"

"That's what we're about to find out."

Freddie's apartment is quiet when they reach it, the door locked and no visible damages to the outside décor. Jack has to break the door down, the hinges coming undone easily under the full force of his strength.

There's nothing off about the apartment when they look around; everything's neat and tidy, no signs of a struggle. To be perfectly honest, Jack hadn't expected one.

"There's nothing here," Beverly says, sighing. "She's probably just busy."

"Then where is she? And why isn't she answering?"

"Her computer's still out," Jimmy says, nodding towards the laptop. "Maybe she has a calendar or something?"

"Open it."

Brian nods and moves to the desk, fingers flying across the keyboard to get it open. It takes a moment, but he eventually finds the online calendar. Clicking on the current date, he shrugs. "You're the only thing booked in for today."

"Try yesterday then."

Brian does as he's told, eyes widening in surprise at what he finds. "Says she had an interview with Will last night."

A string of curses leave Jack's mouth, loud in the empty apartment. "Where?"

"His house."

As they pull into Will's driveway, it's strikingly obvious something is wrong.

Freddie's car is still parked next to the house, and there's a trail of blood on the porch. The four of them move slowly, making sure not to disturb the scene. Beverly pushes the door open, gun raised as he steps inside first. They don't have to look far to find what they're searching for.

A single seater couch rests in front of them, and it in sits the body of an unmistakably dead Freddie Lounds.

Blood stains everything; her body, the couch, the floor beneath them. She sits as if she were alive, with one leg crossed over the other, her hands folded neatly in her lap. If it weren't for the blood, her outfit would still be impeccable.

Jack stares, his eyes stopping at the incision under her chin, through which her tongue hangs.

They step further into the apartment, Jack and Beverly searching for Will while Jimmy and Brian crouch near Freddie, their gloved hands already probing and prodding.

"A Colombian necktie almost seems fitting," Jimmy mumbles, looking away from the open wound and down her body. His gaze lands on Freddie's lap, where a manila folder rests.

"He's not here," Jack shouts. "How could he not fucking be here? If the Ripper came here to kill Freddie, he would have taken Will as well."

"It might not be the Ripper," Brian replies, biting his lip as he stares at the cut on Freddie's chin. "The incision doesn't display the normal signs of the Ripper. It's not sloppy, it's just…not surgical."

"Because Will did it."

Three heads snap towards Jimmy's whispered voice, their confusion evident.


Jimmy waves the folder at them before passing it to Jack, looking away from the other man as he reads it. All colour drains from Jack's face, his mouth opening in something between disbelief and anger as he stares at the paper, its corners stained in blood. It holds a hastily written message, the writing a familiar scrawl, that simply reads;

Perhaps you should have suspected us.


He passes the paper to Beverly before speaking, his voice hard, detached.

"I want this house torn apart. And Lecter's. I want to see each and every bit of evidence that tells us where they are and what they've done, do you understand me?"

Shocked by the news; of what's in front of them, of what their friend has done, the three of them barely manage a nod in response.


Hand in hand, Will walks the streets of Florence with Hannibal, the sun shining bright above them.

A bell chimes as they step through the door of a small, independent shop, the sight of wine barrels and antique bottles greeting them. There's a man behind the counter, of the same height and build as Hannibal, and neither of them miss the look he sends their conjoined hands.

The other people in the shop ignore them as they browse, Hannibal examining each bottle carefully. Will stays close the entire time, his body practically pressed against Hannibal's as they move around the store. He can hear the shop owner conversing with a customer, but his Italian isn't perfect, and he only makes out a few words.

They've been there just short of fifteen minutes when Hannibal replaces the bottle he's looking at, choosing instead to grab Will's hand. Bringing it to his mouth, he presses his lips against the gold band softly; voice a quiet murmur when he talks.

"That man just called us filthy faggots."

"That's horribly rude of him."

Hannibal grins, the points of his teeth just barely visible as he wraps an arm around Will's waist. Pulling his husband against him, Hannibal places a kiss to Will's forehead.

"Don't worry, my darling. I'm sure we'll be back for something more to our taste."

That's it! I may consider a sequel at some point, though not any time soon. I'm working on some smaller hannigram fics between uni, so keep an eye out for them if you liked my writing! A big thank you to everyone who left kind comments, whether it be on here or over at my tumblr. Your support means a lot :)