Chapter 20: Decision

Will crosses a road, barely paying attention to the green sign, and turns to the left, choosing a narrow street between two buildings.

It is a weird and pleasant feeling to walk wherever he wants, completely lacking any kind of external control.

He escaped the FBI building a few hours ago by taking advantage of the opportunity when Jack had left him in the empty office without restraints. He stole a t-shirt and a pair of jeans from one of the employees' locker, and after changing his clothes, he left the building using an emergency exit route he knew of from before. He even managed to catch a bus without a ticket, pretending to belong to the group in front of him in the queue. Luck was finally on his side, at least for the time being.

He understands that his actions probably resulted in the collapse of Jack's career at the FBI – since it was Crawford who went all out on transporting him from the Baltimore State Hospital and gave his permission for Will's visit to Hannibal in the interrogation chamber – but Will is not sorry. He doesn't particularly care.

As he feels the light warmth of the sunbeams on his cheeks while standing in the crowd as a part of the outer world again, it gives him the sudden realization that he is truly free. He almost makes an involuntary movement to massage the bruises and scars around his wrists where chains used to hold him captive, but he suppresses the desire and walks quickly along a few minor streets.

When he reaches the corner of the square the name of which he whispered into Doctor Lecter's ear in the FBI interrogation chamber, he stops. He braces his shoulder blades against the wall of a bakery and closes his eyes, taking in the scent of the freshly made bread rolls.

He could have just left without seeing Hannibal one last time, but he couldn't resist the temptation of meeting the doctor before he disappears. However, he hasn't planned what he is going to say to his former friend as a goodbye, so now he tries to collect his thoughts. He is not even sure if he wants to tell him something offensive or nice.

After a while, Will starts to watch people passing by. He can still hardly believe that he left the hospital. It's strange not to hear the creaks of the secured doors, the steps of the patrolling guards. It even feels, in a way, empty without the familiar noises.

He has to wait for at least two hours for Hannibal, though he doesn't have any doubts that the doctor will come. Therefore, he is not surprised when Doctor Lecter finally steps out from behind a street vendor, who's offering scarves and hats to bystanders.

Hannibal is wearing an elegant gray suit with red tie and deerskin gloves.

The doctor walks up to the younger man, and there is a brief moment where they just look into each other's eyes in silence.

"I see you had time to change," Will remarks with a hint of malice in his tone, referring to the stylish, expensive suit on the other man.

"Not a perfect fit though," Hannibal replies unflinchingly. "I'm somewhat taller than the doctor who was generous enough to lend me some of his clothes."

Will wrinkles his forehead and scrutinizes a couple of tiny blood drops around Hannibal's left wristband. A sarcastic retort is about to leave his lips, but then he decides to let the topic rest. "We shouldn't spend too much time out in the streets," he says instead. "One of the surveillance cameras might record us, and if the FBI happens to check this area..."

"Of course, my love." The doctor puts his hand on Will's shoulder and gently directs him towards a snack counter.

Will finds it odd and suspicious how Doctor Lecter has addressed him. My love?! He has never heard Hannibal call anyone that excessive gesture of friendliness. But he doesn't have time to express his concerns about the misunderstanding that could linger between the two of them because the doctor pulls out a bunch of bills from his pocket and hands it to him.

"Could you get us something to eat, please? I'll check my credit card at the bank over there and bring us some more money." When Doctor Lecter sees the wary look on Will's face, he adds, "The card is mine, but not with my real name, so the FBI cannot trace it."

"Okay." Will tries to look less confused. "I wanted to say goodbye now, but if I've understood you well, you mean that we are going to meet up again soon."

"We are. There is an insignificant, little hostel not far from here; it's called 'Le Poisson Rouge'. Let's meet there after you bought us dinner."

And before Will could make any comment, the doctor hurriedly leaves in the direction of the previously mentioned bank. The younger man gapes after him for a long, amazed moment. Then he shakes his head and enters the snack bar.

Will joins Hannibal at the coffee-stained, lopsided counter of the hostel's reception with a paper bag of shrimp sandwiches in his hands. The doctor is just taking the key from the place's owner.

"We'll only spend one night here," Hannibal informs the younger man on their way to their ground floor room.

"You don't need to tell me your plans."

"Is that so?"

Will shrugs and doesn't give any further reply. When they arrive at the ill-lit, seedy room, the doctor places a bag in front of the double bed. "I also bought some clothes for us."

"Thanks," Will answers shortly while sitting down on the only chair and grabbing a sandwich from his package. "Do you want one?"

"Not yet, thank you." Hannibal watches as the younger man eagerly starts to consume the shrimp sandwich.

The silence becomes prolonged and awkward, so Will tries to focus solely on the food he's eating. After he finishes the last bite, he looks up at Doctor Lecter and realizes that the doctor is still standing in the same position like minutes before, keeping his eyes on him mutely.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Will asks, uncomfortably creasing the paper bag in his palms.

"Do you understand what you put me through?" the doctor asks without prelude.

"It wasn't any worse than what you put me through!" Will retorts sharply. "I've lost my whole life because of you, the same way you've lost yours now because of me."

"I'm not talking about my former life."

"Aren't you?"

The doctor's response is almost bitter. "You made me believe that you had betrayed me."

"So what? Should I feel sorry for you?"

Doctor Lecter's stance becomes even stiffer after hearing the mocking answer. "You could have told me what you were planning. I told you that you had my trust."

"If I'd told you that my plan was to make Jack believe that I was helping him with the investigation, that I'd turn you in and leave you locked up in an FBI cell until I could get out of the Baltimore State Hospital, would you have agreed to my idea? Would you have trusted me that much?"

"It's not certain," Hannibal admits. "But I nonetheless think that what you did was overly audacious. Let me remind you how close I was to hurting you. Just before you leaned in to kiss me, I had still been considering attacking you..."

"Well, if you had injured me in any way, I wouldn't have kissed the key I'd stolen when I'd been left alone into your mouth, and now you would be sitting in a prison cell, and I would be lying on a hospital bed." Will opens the paper bag for another sandwich. "I had to test how much I could really trust you, and that was the way. I had to see if I was only one name on your victims' list, or more than that. If you'd just used the opportunity to fulfill some vengeful sadistic fantasy, it would have been proof that I was not different and that you were the simple, predictable, boring psychopath Jack wanted me to believe you were."

Hannibal gives no reply.

Will takes a bite from the second sandwich, chews it in silence, and then he adds, "Anyway, I didn't believe Jack's lies. They just showed me how little he cared about me or the pain I was going through if it furthered the FBI's plans. I've always suspected this, but I wanted to see it openly... I think the reason he believed I was falling for his deception was that what he was saying wounded me – not because of the content of his words but of his attitude... It was enough for me to decide to attempt an escape without sacrificing you or your freedom. I knew that the remorse he felt because of his lies would be the perfect blindfold on his cautiousness, and therefore he would let me kiss you in the interrogation chamber without suspecting a thing."

The corner of the doctor's mouth slightly stirs, it's almost a smile, but then he quickly puts back on his original chilly expression and loosens his tie, then takes off the suit jacket.

"I'll take a shower now," he announces reservedly, selecting a towel from the heap of laundry on the corner of the bed. "I didn't want to trespass upon the hospitality of Doctor Chilton; so I did not take a bath at his house. But I still have some bloodstains on my skin."

"Did you gut Chilton?" Will risks the question, though he is not sure if he wants to know the answer.

"I didn't."

"I'm sure you did something worse to him then."

"You are always so cynical, dear one." Hannibal moves his long, slender fingers to Will's right cheek, and caresses him briefly. The duration of the contact is so short that it's almost like a soft breeze, but it indicates that the doctor's resentment over Will's cruel trick is starting to dissolve.

"I know some of your ways." Will gives a wry smile. "Whose blood is that on you?"

"It's from Freddie Lounds."

Will feels a glimpse of guilt when he finds himself not very disturbed by the answer. "What did you do to her?" he asks nevertheless.

"It might not be the right time to talk about my crimes. Let me put it like this: Miss Lounds must have gone through intense pain before she lost consciousness."

"Did you kill her?"

"I'm not sure. If Doctor Chilton is talented enough in providing first aid and managed to call 911 in time, he might have kept her alive until the emergency ambulance arrived. I'm positive he did his best. Even so, my guess is that she died in the ambulance car because of the internal bleeding." The doctor seems rather uninterested. "We might find out from tomorrow morning's news," he adds, seeing that Will shudders with uneasiness while listening to his perfectly detached tone.

Hannibal turns away and walks into the bathroom while Will returns to the task of eating his sandwich. He exceedingly enjoys the taste of the cheap, salty food after the tasteless hospital meals he had to consume during his captivity.

There is something unnatural about being free; he can't recall how it felt before his institutionalization. Those experiences seem to be forgotten.

When he finishes his dinner, he chooses a towel from the bed. He is just about to take some clothes from the bag Doctor Lecter brought, when the bathroom door opens, and Hannibal returns. The doctor's hair is still wet, but he has already put on his underwear and a shirt. The toned muscles of his well-conditioned body attract the younger man's eyes even though he tries not to stare.

"Oh, you've finished already?" Will remarks, a bit disappointed. "I thought I could join you under the shower."

Hannibal looks at him so strangely that it makes Will wonder whether the doctor considers his suggestion inappropriate.

"Don't you think that it's too soon for that?" Doctor Lecter asks after a few seconds of off-putting silence.

"Okay, well, as you wish." The younger man sighs wearily, rubbing his left palm across his stubbly chin. "I just thought it would be a nice final goodbye to each other: spending a night pleasuring each other. Tomorrow, I'll order a ticket for a bus to Mexico, and you can travel to Europe or wherever. I can see you living at an old Italian town, it would suit you quite well. But, of course, you don't have to tell me what destination you choose..."

"Final goodbye?" Hannibal interrupts the hasty jumble of words, raising his pale eyebrows. "Do you mean that you want our ways to ultimately part?"

"Sure, what else?" Will pulls off his t-shirt, preparing to shower, and wants to start unbuckling his belt, but the doctor puts his palms to the younger man's bare arms with sudden force to stop him.

"It's not how I want it," Doctor Lecter says, icy and determined.

Will's facial muscles twitch with surprise. "Are you planning to kill me or what?"

Hannibal steps even closer and forces the younger man to look him in the eye. "I want you to be my life partner."

Will spends a second deliberating the seriousness of the doctor's response, then he bursts out in a dry, mirthless laugh. "That is the sickest idea you've ever had about us."

Hannibal continues directing his inscrutable, cold eyes at Will with the same intensity.

"I mean, just look at me. Do you think I'd fit your lifestyle?" Will shakes his head with an incredulous smile. "You wouldn't fit mine either. And let's just leave it at that."

The doctor moves his palms, which have been holding Will possessively so far, and starts stroking the younger man's arms, letting his hands wander further towards Will's shoulders. His fingers stop at the scar of the wound Jack Crawford's bullet tore when they were at the Hobbs' house.

"Do you think the reason I need you is a desire to force you into the perfunctory routines of my habits? Like attending an opera gala or organizing a dinner party?" Hannibal moves even closer. Will can feel the warmth of the doctor's shirt against his bare chest. "All I want is to have you by my side at the end of the day, and to show you my inner world."

Will shakes his head again and tries to back away. "You think that there's the possibility that the relationship between us could work," he answers quickly, "but trust me, there isn't any chance."

Hannibal ruthlessly grasps Will's arms again and forces him to stay as close as possible. "Why aren't you considering it at least?"

"This is crazy. I've never even thought about spending a whole day together with any of my girlfriends. How can you believe that we could have any kind of serious relationship? And I'm pretty sure that you haven't shared certain parts of your life with anyone else before, either."

A hint of annoyance appears on the doctor's face.

"What we have is special. I'd appreciate it if you didn't compare it to former relationships." He looks at Will disdainfully, as if he found the younger man's argument pathetic.

"You have to admit that your idea's insane."

"You didn't regard it as insane when you asked me months ago at the hospital. I clearly remember that you asked me about a relationship–"

"That was just Jack's absurd plan to deceive you," Will interrupts impatiently. "I have never really thought that a relationship between us could work."

Hannibal runs his fingertips along Will's chest watching as each muscle he touches tenses.

"Your body wants me," the doctor remarks, when he reaches the line of Will's belt.

"Yes, of course it does, but that doesn't mean that there is any sense in attempting to build a relationship," Will's voice starts faltering the lower Doctor Lecter's hand travels.

"You know that sooner or later, I'll get what I want. Why don't you just give in and spare me the tiresome efforts?" The doctor strokes Will's forehead with his mouth, and the younger man unwittingly leans to Hannibal's neck, returning the light touch with a half-bite half-kiss eagerly, trying to feel as much as possible of the doctor's familiar, clean taste.

"If I said yes, you'd soon see how bad your idea is, after a couple of days," Will makes another desperate attempt to protest, panting against Hannibal's skin.

"I don't believe it."

"My world is a nightmare."

Hannibal wraps his arms around Will's waist slowly, measuredly, murmuring into his curls, "So is mine."

"Can you imagine what kind of world we would live in together?"

"I can." The doctor suddenly forces Will backwards, pushing his back against the wall, pinning his shoulders to the raspy wall covering. His eyes are narrowing, his body pressed against the younger man like a carnivorous animal to its freshly killed prey as he utters with burning, dark obsession deepening his voice, "Whatever you say, I won't ever let you go. If you don't come with me now of your own free will, I will follow you to Mexico or wherever you try to hide, drug you, kidnap you, lock you in the cellar of my cabin in Alaska, and keep you on chains for the rest of our lives."

Will has to admit to himself that the sinister words surprisingly make him feel safe. No one has ever wanted him the way Hannibal does. Call it sick or uncontrollable, he needs it, and there have been moments when he even believes that he feels the same way about the doctor. He knows that if he didn't deny himself the easiness of falling into this emotion, he could want Hannibal so much more, yearning to see every shadow that hides in the doctor's mind, to be pulled closer to the chasm, to be consumed by the limitless, irrepressible longing...

Perhaps it's because of the way he has always lived his life, seeing too much of the inner worlds of people he didn't want to see at all, sinking too deep into the stomach-churning secrets tormented brains hide... but now he can't imagine ever leaving the piled up nightmarish memories behind or become free of the horrors trapped forever in his head. He could pretend to live a normal life, find work in a foreign country where the FBI would never be able to track him down, but he would never be able to escape his own thoughts.

Maybe Hannibal is right; they could fit into each other's lives. They could find ways to give each other the pleasure that was never meant to be theirs. It might be possible. Or not. He'll never know unless he tries...

He places his hand soothingly on the doctor's sharp jawline, and then gives a small smile. "I think we won't need the cellar and the chains. Let's try it without those first."

Will leans to the other man, giving up his resistance, and lets the fervent desire in their bodies collide.

He doesn't know when or how it happened, but somehow he ends up on the bed with Doctor Lecter. The next thing he recalls is his arms around the doctor's muscular shoulders, forcing Hannibal roughly against the white blanket.

He used to be more athletic, but the months he spent locked up and tormented by fevers had taken away a considerable amount of his strength. Hannibal could easily free himself if he wanted, but the doctor lets the fierce embrace keep him completely motionless, lying flat, turning only his head slightly backwards so that he can watch Will take rapid, irregular breathes on top of him...

"I'm sorry," Will utters, voice tremulous and faint. He gives a soft, apologizing kiss on the wet, still scarcely disheveled hair on the other man's nape. He takes in the scent and the bitter aftertaste of the cheap shampoo of the hostel as he continues kissing Hannibal's neck.

He feels a sudden sting of worry that his uncontrolled, feverish actions might make the doctor soon change his mind about his plans to have Will as his partner. Maybe, Hannibal didn't really know what he was up to when he'd asked Will to stay with him, and now it's becoming clear to him that he shouldn't have.

The younger man apprehensively mutters, "You see? I'm still unstable, and... and..."

With an abrupt push, the doctor flips him on his back and climbs on top of him. "I want you just like this," he answers decisively, while starting to caress the younger man's upper body with one hand, keeping the other one firmly against Will's scarred shoulder, forcing him to stay stationary. "I want you unstable. I want you with your pain, your doubts, your insecurities, your sleeping disorder, your partially healed illness, your uncertainties... This is exactly what I want. Why do you still fear that I only see you the way other people have always seen you? I want you the way you are, and I won't force you to fit into a world of conventions and rules where you've never belonged."

Will doesn't know what to say, and he decides that it's better if he keeps silent since his heart beats so vehemently that he's not sure that he could utter a sensible word without choking on each syllable. The way Doctor Lecter rhythmically slides his palm up and down the side of Will's naked chest is not helping him regain control over his breathing at all.

"But you'll have to take the same from me," the doctor adds, his tone a bit less certain than before, even his strong grip on Will's shoulder loosens. "I will show you my demons, my weaknesses, my scars, my imperfections... Are you ready for that?"

"I... I suppose I am." Will manages to form a short sentence without completely losing his breath.

He can't decide if it's the doctor's heated words or the heavy pressure on his crotch as the other man's hardness presses on his, but he can barely hold on to any thought.

"Did you buy lube?" the question bursts out of him, though he is almost perfectly sure that the answer will be 'no', and Hannibal will consider the idea rushed and rude, but the desire burns his whole body, and he can't stop himself from speaking out.

Will wishes he was mistaken about his presumption that the doctor didn't. Or maybe he should have bought it. He should have gone to a drug store instead of the snack bar. Unfortunately, he didn't really expect their encounter to turn out this erotic.

When he sees that the doctor gives no reply and even stops stroking his body, Will nervously adds as an explanation, "I... I think that's what we need if we want to... want to..." He cuts the sentence before the words 'fuck each other' could leave his lips. It would undoubtedly be a coarse way of phrasing, and he is not sure whether or not it would help his cause if he used some more sophisticated phrase, so he decides against continuing.

"Our first time should not be like this," Hannibal answers finally, throwing a scornful glimpse at the badly furnished, dirty room around them. "I don't want it to happen at a place where a married plumber could spend a secret hour with a low-class prostitute for some quick, cheap satisfaction. In a room where cockroaches are crawling under the bed and the windows are blurred from the soiled water used for cleaning..."

Will doesn't want to tell him, but he doesn't mind the circumstances. He hadn't even given any disapproving thoughts to the woeful environment until the doctor mentioned it. He still feels quite indifferent about it.

"Why would you deny your body the higher levels of delight?" Hannibal asks, figuring out what's on Will's mind before the younger man could say anything. "You treat yourself like you were just a waste of efforts, but you deserve to see the beauty in life."

Will closes his eyes and tries to slow down the pace of his breathing to a bearable degree. "At least, let me do it with my mouth... like at the hospital," he utters in short gasps, and when he feels the warmth of the doctor's left palm on his forehead, he takes the touch as an affirmative answer. He guides his hands between their bodies and moves Hannibal's clothes out of his fingers' way.

He knows that he shouldn't give in to the unwholesome influence of Doctor Lecter, but he also knows that there is no turning back. He should be worried, he should cling to the rest of his past doubts, he should be afraid... But he isn't. This man is a serial killer, a monster, yet he can't wish anything else but to get to know him completely.

He doesn't have to think about the way other people have treated him or how they have always given up on him sooner or later, not understanding him, not even trying to... because the emotion that connects him to Hannibal is enough to make him now choose the doctor over all his moral scruples and principles.

It might not be the righteous decision, but it's definitely the interesting one. The promise of a different life.

He might end up killing his dangerous lover or might become a murder victim one day, but there is also the slight chance that it's all going to end in a different way.

- The End -