Chapter Text
While I was with them in the world, I kept them in thy name: those that thou gavest me I have kept, and none of them is lost, but the son of perdition; that the scripture might be fulfilled.
— John 17:12
Cat Island, The Bahamas
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"What are you going to do?"
"Do?"
"With me."
Hannibal smile widens; William hates how the man's sharp canines become exposed whenever he's feeling particularly pleased with himself.
"Well... I'd have to say...that depends entirely upon you young man." Hannibal watches as the shaggy head lowers defiantly. Haircut before the day is out. "Did you hear what I said William?"
The child nods but doesn't meet his gaze.
"In this house," Hannibal's voice is clipped and metallic," you will look at me when I am speaking to you," then his tone warms, "I'm certain your father would approve."
William's thin shoulders tighten at the mention of Will Graham and his head jerks upright.
"Thank you," Hannibal says softly. "I'm very happy you're here with us." He waits to see if William has anything to add, but the boy stays stubbornly silent. "I think we're all going to get along very nicely. Now, get dressed and come downstairs, you must be hungry."
It isn't until Hannibal pulls the door shut that William ducks under the sheet and allows himself to cry.
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Will is waiting at the foot of the main staircase. "How is he?"
"Emotional...naturally... but happy to be here with you."
Liar. Will steps in front of Hannibal, blocking his path. "He needs to be sent back."
"Alright," Hannibal says soothingly, and steps around his lover," but let's feed him first, shall we?"
Will shadows Hannibal to the kitchen. "I'm serious Hannibal. I don't want William here."
The other man slides an ancient cast iron skillet to the front burner and looks at Will with bemusement. "What's troubling you?"
"Please...just let me get him on a plane out of here...then we can go where we want to go and do what we want to do."
Hannibal cracks an egg into the pan; it's dull shine a testament to how it's been kept here, seasoned and at the ready. "And you don't think we could do that with our child?"
Our child. A shiver runs down Will's back."It's too risky."
"We can manage."
"No."
"Dad?"
Still in his pajamas, William is in the doorway; his eyes, nose, and cheeks a bright pink.
"Hey buddy," Will says, hurrying over, "are you hungry?"
William ignores Will, looking across the room to where Hannibal is breaking eggs, one-handed, into a pan. The boy waits until the man turns his attention from his cooking to him before speaking. "I don't want to be sent away Dr. Lecter."
"William!" Will begins.
"Alright," Hannibal agrees, flawlessly breaking another egg," wash and dress and we'll discuss it over breakfast."
The boy doesn't hesitate; without another word he scampers out the kitchen and upstairs. Seething, Will turns back to the man at the range. "We're not doing this."
"How many eggs would you like?"
Hannibal, smug in his knowledge that all but the most primitive of weapons are secured, opens the coffee bean canister. "I've promised him we would talk about it over..." suddenly, his features twist, and he staggers backwards. Will catches the container before it smashes onto the tiles.
"Careful! Here," he propels Hannibal to a seat. "Sit."
Hannibal smiles up into Will's face; that puckish, boyish smile that tugs at his heart and stirs his guilt. He loves you.
"Thank you," Hannibal sighs, leaning to rest his hot head against Will," I admit... I'm feeling poorly. "
Visions of septis, infection, and gangrene race through Will's head. This could be William's way-out. Will has no idea why Hannibal lied to him about William's death, but he can't waste precious time puzzling it out now. He smoothes his palm over Hannibal's sweaty forehead. "You're definitely running a fever. Did they give you antibiotics?"
"Already taken," Hannibal murmurs, his eyes closed, a look of innocent enjoyment on his face at Will's ministrations. Then the brown eyes open and met his. "We should be expecting the policeman any moment, wouldn't you say?" Hannibal rolls his eyes to the French doors where a uniformed man is standing, one hand poised to knock.
"Good morning gentlemen!" A muffled voice calls, "can you let me in please?"
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From his upstairs room, William watches as a policeman parks his car at the end of the long drive and walks around the house into the garden. He pulls on a pair of shorts and a weird, button-up plaid shirt, ignoring the new pair of leather sandals set-out on an armchair. No way am I going to wear those nerd shoes! Barefoot is quieter anyway.
William tiptoes down the hallway, taking mental notes of which boards creak as he goes. Open-mouthed, he stands at the landing. Low voices are murmuring from the vicinity of the kitchen. Maybe I can find Bedelia while they're busy! I wonder if Hannibal is going to kill that man? A worse thought, brings the boy's heart to his throat. Maybe he'll have dad do it.
William presses himself against the carved banister and slowly descends. Where would she be? Unless he already killed her and...a vision of Freddie's bloody hand clutching his bare ankle brings a squeak to his lips.
"Is that you William?"
Apparently, Hannibal the Cannibal's hearing game is strong. Don't mess this up!
"Coming!" He calls sweetly taking-in as much of the floor plan he can in his limited amount of time.
A strange domestic scene greets him when he comes into the kitchen.
The policeman is seated at the counter, sampling a sugary Palmier, cup of coffee steaming beside him. He greets the boy with a confused air. "William?" He looks from the child to Hannibal and back again." I understood it was a little girl who had come?"
Hannibal smiles, his manner a study of paternal understanding.
"No, just the one boy; my nephew. But William is very special ...he often enjoys wearing girl's clothes... in many ways...he considers himself a female."
William's cheeks flame red.
"Oh!" Is all the man manages before he peruses the child as one would a freak; with cautious curiosity.
Hannibal beams; a proud, tolerant uncle. " William, is your mother awake yet?" Hannibal's face is out of the stranger's view, but there's no mistaking the menace in those sherry-brown eyes.
William jerks his head back and forth. Play stupid. "No, she's still tired from the plane ride. Can I have a cookie too?"
Hannibal winks appreciatively and turns to Will. "I think one small cookie won't hurt his appetite."
Will sense of surrealism grows as he watches his son, still pink from humiliation, served a cookie by the man who has eviscerated both their lives.
Hannibal offers the platter to the policeman who declines it. "Will you be needing to ask William any questions?"
"No, no, that won't be necessary." The policeman sets down his half eaten pastry; all at once, he seems to be a hurry to leave."I'll come back if I have any further questions."
"Of course," Hannibal offers the man a napkin and appears to ponder his next inquiry before speaking. "And have you heard anything more about our man Claus? We still owe him a month's pay."
William looks up from his cookie plate to see his father staring at him with a warning look, don't say anything.
His Palmier sticks in his throat.
"I haven't," the policeman says, placing his cap back on," but I will let you know as soon as I hear. Now...would you like to pay your fine here, or at the courthouse?"
"Here, just let me get my wallet."
"Your uncle is a very good cook," the man tilts his head down to William, attempting to be kind, "you should get him to teach you...it would come in handy if you decide to live... as a woman."
Ashamed, William drops his eyes and nods.
"Here you are," Hannibal is back with a stack of bills." Four hundred?"
"Yes, sir," the man confirms, double checking the amount before placing it into a zippered pouch. "And here is your receipt."
"Thank you. Once again we apologize for the trouble we've put the authorities through."
"Accidents happen. But the weapon is secure and the fine has been paid. Everything is in order."
"Yes, thank you."
"Alright then, be safe and enjoy your remaining stay."
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"Why'd you tell him that! You didn't have to tell him that!"
William had waited until the sound of the policeman's car has died away before unleashing his righteous fury.
Ignoring the child, Hannibal raises his elbow and allows Will to pull him to his feet. "Thank you. I think I will go rest. William? Could you hand me that cane please?"
Near tears once more, William grabs the ornate walking stick and shoves it into Hannibal's hand.
"Thank you. Will? Could you assist me back to our room?" To the boy the last two words seem unnecessarily emphasized. "William, wait here. Your father will be back down momentarily to cook your breakfast."
William watches as the two men make their slow departure, taking many breaks and talking quietly as they ascend the stairs. He waits until they are completely out of sight before edging along the walls of the kitchen and ducking into the entry hall. William reaches the dark hallway off the main dining room and pauses, ears craned. Upstairs, the creaking of floorboards clues him to the adult's whereabouts; surefooted he runs to the first door and pulls it open: dainty tables laden with silver picture frames, velvet love seats, and a gold harp. No places to hide a body. William closes the door and goes to the next.
This room is more masculine and much darker, with floor to ceiling bookshelves lining the walls. William's bare feet slip, whisper quiet across the Oriental carpets. It's the kind of room the boy imagines Dickens would have written in, and as he scans the space, his eye is caught by an enormous desk darkly gleaming at the far end. He is just turning to look at a massive marble mantelpiece when a sound, slight, but close at hand, causes the hair on the back of his neck to prickle. William glances over his shoulder; the doorway and hall beyond it are quiet and empty. Then what can only be described as a moan, soft, but wretchedly pitiful, sends the boy bolting, back to the safety of the doorway. He leans against the casing, one foot in the hallway , and peers across the gloomy chamber.
Whatever that was...it's in that corner.
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Will settles Hannibal into bed, and brings him medication and a carafe of water.
"Thank you beloved, that's all I require." Hannibal takes hold of one of Will's hands and brings it to his lips. "Thank you for taking care of me. A few days rest, should suffice."
Will nods and attempts to go, when the hand holding his tightens. "I know you worry about William...don't. We have saved him. You know as well as I what his life in the system would have been like."
Will shakes his head. " Lottie."
"Was a wonderful woman and mother, no doubt," Hannibal releases Will's hand and settles himself more comfortably under the covers. "But William has you now, and to a lesser degree, myself. Two people to love, guide, and serve as his champions for the rest of our lives. Something I desperately needed but didn't have when my own mother died."
"I..." Will is struggling, Hannibal pushes down on his own impatience," I don't know what to do."
"Then don't...let me lead in this, just until you are better able to manage."
"This is wrong."
My poor, dear, penitent Will. "No...this is wonderful... You have your son, we have each other...Go! Go take care of him. He needs you now, more than ever."
To Hannibal's satisfaction, Will's face relaxes. "Alright...do you want any breakfast?"
"Later, beloved. Right now, sleep is all I require."
Hannibal looks so young and angelic snuggled-up, his eyes bright with fever, that Will's heart swells with fondness. He needs you. They both do. "Sleep well, I'll take care of it," he promises and leaves.
Hannibal sighs with contentment and sits-up. His wound had been a glancing one; bloody, but not deep and requiring no more than ten stitches.
The subsequent low-grade fever had been a gratifying boon.
Hannibal makes-up the bed to simulate an occupant and opens the room's hidden door. The rapacious sugar baron's home is riddled with these passageways, stairs, and hidden chambers.
Hannibal steps inside and clicks the panel shut.