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Molly leaves three hours in, without ever actually entering his room. Roughly a week later Will wakes up from the coma the Tooth Fairy has left him in. He never sees his wife again, her lawyers handle the divorce, she cleans out her stuff before Will is discharged from the hospital.
For a few weeks Will Graham is, once again, on the cover of every Super Market Tabloid. For once the FBI does it’s job and keeps the reporters away, so the tabloids are forced to use the old picture of him, the one taken after he “caught” Hannibal, where he’s in a coma in a hospital bed with tubes everywhere.
Then a new serial killer emerges. They call him Buffalo Bill because he “likes to skin his humps.” No one at the FBI talks to Will about the killer. No one asks for his help-- everyone knows he would refuse.
At first Will doesn’t follow the case. It’s easy enough to ignore, since he’s retreated back to the house he used to share with Molly and only goes into town once a week for groceries. But one day, while trying to decide what microwave dinner to purchase, Will hears that the FBI has gained information on Buffalo Bill by consulting with Hannibal.
He starts going into town every day and hooks the television back up. He reads every newspaper, every tabloid, every scrap of paper… anything that mentions Hannibal Lecter. He doesn’t laugh when he reads about the deal Hannibal has struck… instead he sits next to the phone and waits.
The call comes in just before midnight. Hannibal Lecter has escaped from custody, killing two guards in the process. Crawford thinks that the Doctor will proceed to hunt down Will… and he wants to use him as bate.
Will hangs up on Crawford, realizes that there are probably already FBI men near or on his property and laughs himself silly before he calls the Tattler and sells his story. He sees one or two men, most likely FBI agents or reporters, around the house, but thye leave him alone soon enough.
The world sees the incident as Will Graham’s anger at the Bureau who failed to protect him and his family. The message must get through, because Hannibal remains at large. The sentiment goes both ways, words written on prison paper echoed in a story written in the tabloids.
The world is more interesting with you in it…
Eventually the FBI realizes Hannibal isn’t going to come after Will. Eventually the reporters lose interest. Eventually Will is left alone with the sea and the sky…
Two weeks after the Tattler runs Will’s story a plain envelope arrives in the mail, sealed with a drop of blood red wax which holds the perfect impression of a fingerprint.
William,
How odd that you, of all people, should contact the Tattler. I would think that the Agent inside would insist upon a very different course of action.
Have you final realized that we are not so different after all? Or is this too much to hope for?
I posed a question to you, the last time we met, which you neglected to answer. I would very much like to hear from you William. The enclosed address should reach me, after bouncing around a few times to lose Crawford and his children.
Do you dream Will?
- Hannibal Lecter M.D.
Will starts a dozen different letters which all end up turning into balls of paper in the garbage. Eventually he figures out what he wants to say and how he wants to say it. He gives the letter to a friend, asking for the unsuspecting man to mail it from the mainland. The man thinks Will’s got a girlfriend he doesn’t want the FBI or Hannibal to know about, Will encourages this delusion by addressing the envelope to “Harriet M. Delac”
Hannibal,
I know that Chilton took great pleasure in denying you any/every thing, so I shall assume you have no knowledge of my “private” life and start when we last met.
Your Pilgrim made a very sincere attempt to kill me, even if he came nowhere as close as you did. I was unconscious for a week. Molly didn’t even stay for one day. Less then two hours after I woke up her lawyer had me signing the divorce papers. I haven’t seen her since.
I was afraid to answer you, when you asked if I dreamed. I worried that Chilton would somehow hear them and sell the story to the Tattler or worse, attempt to analyze me.
Yes Hannibal, I dream. I dream quite often in fact. Every night I relive the night I “caught” you.
I lied to the FBI, the court and the press. I told them I entered your home not knowing what you were, what you are. I’d realized you were the Ripper two days before that night.
Yes Hannibal, I lay in your bed, knowing what and who you were. I wanted to tell you. I came to your home wishing to abandon the Bureau. I’ve spent all those years since that moment trying to forget, trying to convince myself I didn’t realize who the Ripper was until it was all too late.
I don’t blame you for your actions. You thought I was putting together the pieces, when really I was trying to tell you that I already knew.
I accepted surgery to conceal the scars Dolarhyde gave me. The doctors wanted to have me committed because I refused surgery to hide or in any way diminish your mark. That is a scar I shall wear, quite proudly, until the day I die.
- Will Graham
PS: Molly used to joke that I was your last meal. She never really possessed my heart the way you did. She never really tried.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Another two weeks pass. The evening news say that Hannibal has left the country. (The Tattler says he’s hanging out with Elvis.) Crawford makes one final attempt to get Will active in the case. Actually he makes two, but the second time Will doesn’t answer the door.
Every day Will had to force himself to walk out and get the mail like a normal human being. Every day Will finds that he’s only received junk. The days that pass without a response from Hannibal start to take their toll--- after all, Will’s not really a “young man” anymore.
He has trouble sleeping. He can’t fall asleep till the sun is almost up and he wakes only a few hours later. He falls into naps if he sits down, which results in him landing face first in a peanut butter and honey sandwich. He starts to lose his appetite, until eventually he’s forcing himself to drink water and nibble on some bread.
It’s the first day of week three and Will wakes up in his bed. The shades are drawn, the room is dark and there is a cool damp cloth over his face. Classical music is playing on the stereo in the living room. His thoughts are pleasantly fuzzy.
As Will opens his eyes and shifts the cloth is pulled away and a needle pierces his skin. For some reason this does not frighten (or alarm) him. The former special agent blinks lazily and turns to his side, not surprised (or alarmed) to see Doctor Lecter sitting next to his bed.
“Hello Hannibal.” Will whispers, his throat slightly sore.
“Will… you’ve been taking rather poor care of yourself.” Hannibal remarks, reaching forward to push a lock of hair out of Will’s face.
“I was waiting for you.” Will whispers, his head rolling t one side as he struggles to keep his eyes open. “Are you going to eat my heart?”
“Now Will, what would I do that?” Hannibal smiles, which would be enough to send most men running for the hills, before he pulls the sheets down, revealing Will’s bare chest. “It would be quite foolish of me to destroy something so valuable.”
As Hannibal speaks he runs a hand down Will’s chest, causing the younger man to shiver as the Doctor traces the scar he’d created so many years ago.
“Only valuable to the bureau.” Will replies, one hand unconsciously moving to touch the space where the Tooth Fairy’s bullets had entered his stomach.
“Now Will… you were the one who all but said I owned your heart.” Hannibal’s hand pulls back and Will finds himself staring into Lecter’s eyes. “Your letter Will, was it…”
Hannibal doesn’t need to finish his question. Despite all the years they’ve spent apart, despite their only contact being through the glass walls of a cell or in a prison exercise yard… despite all that Hannibal can read Will better then anyone.
“I thought you’d replace me…” Will whispers, suddenly ashamed of himself. “I thought Starling---”
“Will.” Hannibal cuts him off, a smirk on his face. “I could never replace you.”
They kiss, one of Hannibal’s hands cupping Will’s face, the other tracing over the scar on his stomach.