rhymeswithcannibal | Until we get a real season 4...

Until we get a real season 4...

[Continuing from thread here.]

The weather forecast for Bethany Beach, Maryland said there was a 30% chance of thunderstorms for the next two days, but currently all the weather seemed to be bringing was cloud cover just dense enough to turn the entire sky steel gray.

Hannibal had a spring in his step as he slid out of the passenger side of the rundown pickup truck they'd bought for cash and never transferred out of the original owner's name. They could leave this behind without worrying that it would ever ever track back to them. No breadcrumbs for Uncle Jack at this marina to have him looking at boats that had been docked for a minimum of three years and then recently left.

"It's the farthest slip from the parking lot," he said as he opened the tailgate and reached in to drag a heavy, wheeled cooler out and settle it on the gravel at his feet.

Five months after they'd died at the cliff house, Hannibal had put some effort into changing his appearance. His skin was tanned, his hair was longer and shaggier, his beard was full, but could never be full enough to hide his distinctive cheekbones, and he was wearing jeans, work boots, a heavy fisherman's sweater, and a bandage on his left hand that he ignored as he worked.

"The keys are in a combination lockbox hidden on deck. I engaged a service to come in quarterly to ensure that the boat was aired out and maintained to a functional standard. We shouldn't have to spend too much time getting our house in order before we can leave."

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Will was an active participant; Bedelia had sometimes been a covert participant and sometimes a passive participant. With Sogliato, despite technicalities, he'd classify her as simply practical. He also had to give her credit for the practicality of her plan to extricate herself from the lion's den.

Will had no such plan at this point. He couldn't blame Hannibal for drugging and brainwashing him into helping him escape, nor for sailing away on an expensive yacht with a forged identity.

"We have fought too hard to be here to accept a curtain call already." And when it ended, they'd tear down the stage.

It would have been practical had Will drunk his beer more slowly.

"Do you consider that fair to so many dogs when we may have to leave precipitously at any time?" Point, counterpoint.

Bedelia's escape plan allowed her to indulge Hannibal's eccentric and very traceable self indulgences without care for being caught. Will's investment in their future, his being complicit in all of this, was why he attempted to curtail Hannibal's more traceable indulgences as well as keep an eye towards their safety and their freedom as vigilantly as he did.

Nor would he attempt to construct an exit plan. He was adamant that they would remain ahead of any searches for them and exit on their own terms.

"And we're too entertaining," He arched a brow.

Will was drinking his beer at exactly the right pace that a beach picnic called for.

"Would a smaller number of dogs be taken with us?" He knew the answer to that.

Bedelia had wanted the thrill of living with the lion while evading the reality that the lion would eat her. It had taken a few years, but eventually she'd felt the jaws close.

Will needed to learn how to be simultaneously vigilant and still capable of enjoying life. If he couldn't enjoy the life they led, he might as well have let himself drown when they went over the bluff.

"Of course we are. Didn't we just discuss God's will for conflict?" They brought conflicts great and small, even simply taking a day at the beach.

He savored a bite of cheese, took another moment to enjoy his wine, and leaned back on his elbow to turn his face up to the sun and close his eyes. He looked entirely relaxed, utterly content.

He didn't even open his eyes when he answered Will's question. "Likely not, but a smaller number of dogs will have a better chance of being rehomed in a timely fashion, which I would think you would want."

Will would come to equilibrium sooner or later between vigilance and enjoyment, finding that balance simply took time and practice. He was already making small steps towards it, venturing out to this beach picnic with Hannibal, binding Hannibal and touching him. Small things.

"We did."

When Hannibal leaned back and closed his eyes, Will turned to watch him fully, appreciated the sun on Hannibal's skin and the wild way the sea water was drying in his hair. He wanted to touch. To run his tongue along skin and taste the heat, the salt, the grit of sand. Instead, he downed the rest of his beer and cast his gaze back to the ocean.

"Three and we have a contingency plan for them," Which didn't necessarily mean he would be collecting three dogs immediately, only that there would be a maximum.

In the years before Hannibal had gone off the rails, he'd perfected that balance between relaxation and vigilance. He'd also been impeccable in keeping the Chesapeake Ripper and Dr. Lecter separate. Will'd seen the result of Hannibal's perfect illusion, and suffered for it.

The swim had left his limbs heavy with unaccustomed exercise, the wine had added to the heaviness, and the sun was an almost palpable weight, enveloping him like a long-missed friend. He had plans for the day before they rowed back to the yacht, he had plans once they were there, but he couldn't tell Will to relax without providing a good example.

He stirred from his comfortable recline for long enough to put the pâté into the cooler, then leaned back again, body twisted slightly toward Will. "Presumably three means as you find them, not seeking out three at once." Two would be preferable, but he was realistic.

Now he no longer had to keep that balance himself. He could toe the line and know Will would keep him from crossing it again, and wasn't there some freedom in that, in knowing that he needn't always wear the person suit or maintain his freedom alone?

There wasn't a timetable, not really. If Hannibal wanted to indulge in an afternoon doze in the sand, Will would magnanimously allow for it. Hannibal did look comfortable like that, stretched out and eyes closed, like a cat with a patch of sunlight. Will, on the other hand, was very much awake, but he also hadn't been swimming laps earlier.

"As I find them, or just a ceiling number," Will replied. He sat up and arranged the other dishes back in the cooler and removing a third beer. Three would be his limit, especially in such a short window.

No. There was no freedom in being answerable to someone else, to living within Will's boundaries, and he'd had the freedom to discard his person suit while living behind glass. It was a nice spin, but it was only spin. Hannibal had willingly given up that freedom in exchange for this life they were crafting. Only time would tell which sacrifice of his freedom for Will had been the greater one - his actual freedom, or his figurative freedom.

Hannibal had long ago learned the art of the catnap for professional reasons and because of his extracurricular activities, both of which required highly irregular hours. A nap now was more a luxury than a necessity, but they both knew he enjoyed his luxuries.

He cracked an eye open for the sound of Will putting away the dishes and taking out another beer. If he'd had a problem with Will drinking the beers, he wouldn't have brought them along. How many and how quickly he drank was just information to be filed away.

"Three is an upper limit. Two is preferable." He sat up to finish his wine, then lay back entirely on his towel with his arms folded under his head. "Planning for three dogs will have to factor into our home selection."

Discarding the person suit while living behind glass could hardly be as satisfying as putting it aside now and then in the air and sun of - well, not freedom according to Hannibal, but obligations to Will was less constraining than obligations to the BSHCI.

"Aim for two, but conceptualize for three, just in case," Will imagined this was how Hannibal would attempt to convince him that, yes, all of those rooms were necessary. "Though three really don't need that much room, aside from an outdoor space enough for them to run. I had seven in a small space." Mostly because his second floor went unused aside storage.

Three beers at his gender and weight, given that they were each less than 6% alcohol would be only halfway to drunk, a pleasant buzz like the one currently spreading through his own limbs. No note of lethargy, just one of relaxation. There, he was taking Hannibal's advice.

Given time, Hannibal might come around to Will's idea of freedom. Maybe. He had his freedom in that he was no longer held behind glass, straitjacketed at others' convenience, under threat of loss of his toilet for misbehavior. He was no longer free because he couldn't and wouldn't leave whenever he wanted, because he had to think of someone else's wants and needs, and because he wanted this. The chains were of his own forging.

"Your home in Wolf Trap was charming and your dogs were well-behaved, but that was too much dog per square foot for my taste." Will's choice to live in the living room was interesting as well. "I imagine you'll want to share your bedroom with them?"

Relaxation was good. Relaxation without needing three beers would be better. It was something to work toward.

Will would pose a very compelling argument for Hannibal to come around to his idea of freedom. Or at least, not to feel that chain of Hannibal's own making too tightly around his neck. True, it wouldn't be absolute freedom, but that solitary ability to pick up and go would be offset by having the full disclosure company of another. By having a hunting partner at times.

And dogs.

"I will. And I imagine you will want them decidedly away from your bedroom?" Post Wolf Trap, the dogs had spent more time outside than they had during Wolf Trap, so Will was not opposed to that, but he also didn't believe in fully outside dogs.

Relaxation with three beers came at the tail end of a very heated conversation that they were both instigators of. The aftermath of said conversation needed something to take the edge off and aide in said relaxation.

The freedom of the selfish individual would be offset by being seen and by having a true partner.

The dogs were just part of the price he paid.

"There will be parts of the house beyond just my bedroom that I'll expect to be off limits to dogs. Between training and practical remedies, we'll present them with opportunities to succeed." And in so doing, minimize the friction between the humans in the household.

Hannibal had taken the edge off with exercise, but Will was a big boy and he'd carrying a world of stress since Jack had first called him back. If he wanted a few beers on a beachy afternoon, Hannibal wasn't going to be concerned. A pattern of such behavior would spark conversation.

Compromise, both sides bending, built a stronger foundation than one side bending until it snapped. Not that either of them would go so far.

The dogs were a delightful bonus.

"You've thought this out," There was a pleased note to Will's tone. Hannibal knew dogs would eventually appear and Will would be happier with them, and Hannibal had actually given consideration to accepting and dealing with it. "I don't object to any of that. It might be easier to keep their area limited to a few inside rooms." A dog room with outside access, the informal sitting room. He didn't need a pack to keep him from sleepwalking now that his brain was no longer on fire.

A pattern of such behavior was nothing Will intended to start, he had seen the downward spiral of it first hand.

Hannibal opened his eyes and raised his head a little to look at Will. "Of course I have." Silly Will.

He'd had years to idly consider what a future with Will might be like. That it would include dogs was a given. With that as a given, the question wasn't how not to have dogs, but rather how to share a home with dogs in a way that allowed both of them the greatest opportunity for comfort and happiness.

He dropped his head and closed his eyes again. "Our home will dictate the restrictions, which means we'll have to calculate for dogs when we choose. Contingency plans for a swift departure may require you to form some personal relationships with locals, if you want specific outcomes."

Will's expression softened slightly, just around the eyes. The idea of Hannibal plotting out how to work around dogs was a very practical, very Hannibal sort of thing. And yet, the thought that he had really thought about the inevitability of dogs in their future, rather than ways to talk Will out of canine attachments was another bright spot of warmth, almost a physical sensation.

The corner of his mouth turned up wryly, "Inevitably. I wouldn't leave them with just anyone." And ensuring the future potential dog adopters of said future potential dogs were good people would go over easier than threatening to find them and eat various internal organs while they lived and watched.

Funny that Hannibal had thought to warp and manipulate Will to the point where he'd be willing to kill and eat people - or eat someone and then see her dead, as with Bedelia - but he'd never thought to try to separate Will from dogs. He'd seen the potential for ruthlessness in Will, but he'd never seen Will rejecting the uncomplicated attachment that came from dogs.

Threats were a form of losing in the game of manipulation that Hannibal played. "I'm pleased to hear that. Your overall attitude has been that you want want to remain as isolated as possible, even if you've indicated you'll tolerate my social nature."

Theirs was a very strange and complicated relationship, even from the start when Hannibal had the upper hand and no qualms about wielding it so wholly against Will. No, Will would never reject the companionship of dogs unless they were in a situation that he would not want to subject on them. It was a relief to look into eyes and see nothing but simple affection, to be with creatures that took pleasure in the smallest of things and yes, were uncomplicated.

Uncomplicated and wholly capable of betrayal for a few links of sausage. He didn't fault them.

They would hardly be threats against Hannibal, but he knew they would be useless either way. Better to ensure the contingency plans were good homes who would treat the animals right. "I don't enjoy the levels of play acting and observance of false niceties that come with being in the company of most people. "

Jack, as hard nosed and driving as he was, had never been anything but himself to Will and that was something Will appreciated. Alana had always been honest with him, even when it was painful for them both. And Beverly had been genuine in her interactions with Will, in both negative and positive reactions to him.

Will might value honesty in his interpersonal relationships, but he was still there with Hannibal. Honesty was nice, but a real intellectual challenge was irreplaceable.

"Did you enjoy the play acting and false niceties with Frederick in your last interview with Miss Lounds?" Tell the truth and shame the devil, Will.

As a mercy to Will, he lay there, eyes closed, sounding sleepy despite his sharp attention to the details of Will's tone.

It did seem counterintuitive, but Hannibal's mind went deeper than superficial calculations of social acceptance. Like the shine on the still surface of the pond, Will knew it went deep. He wanted to plunge his hands in and churn the waters.

One corner of Will's mouth pulled up slightly, "There was no false sense of camaraderie. It was ... script writing. A digital provocation. Dr. Chilton just wasn't aware of the extent." He could still remember the smell of Chilton's burned flesh, the cold that flooded Will's own blood at seeing the results of his curiosity. He wasn't sorry, he was... horrified at what he was still capable of and disappointed that those intervening years with Molly changed nothing.

A false mercy, Will knew Hannibal was hanging on every word and tone.

Will had gone far past tossing pebbles into the pond, aiming artillery instead as though he wanted to see the pond drained in dramatic spray.

"Francis was cunning, but too easily provoked." Francis' ego was too fractured, too exposed if one knew where to aim, and Will had taken his empathy and used it as a scope to aim at Francis' heart.

Listening to Will's words and tone was almost more educational than watching his face. Will had become an accomplished liar, a truth for which Hannibal would accept some measure of credit and blame. "Did you know going into the interview that you would take action to pin a target to his breast or was that a choice made in the moment?"

He wanted to know what was underneath.

"The Great Red Dragon wasn't good with criticism." He leaned back on his elbows in the sand, though kept his head turned, watching Hannibal.

"Spur of the moment. Initially I thought his ire would fall on Freddie for attempting to diminish the majesty of the Great Red Dragon with her lies and accusations," That had been a curiosity, too. "Then I saw how eager Dr. Chilton was during the interview, for praise and validation." Like a dog seeking approval for his master.

At the bottom of still ponds, one often found the silt of years of settled debris.

"Yet Francis expected criticism. Opprobrium was the water in which he swam as a child." To fracture as Francis had, he could only have lived an ongoing hell. Hannibal was understanding, but his inconvenient compassion didn't extend beyond Will.

He was silent for a moment, reveling in the sunlight heavy on his skin while contemplating the dark curiosity that had led Will to put a collar around Frederick's neck that read, If found, return to Will Graham. "Frederick has always been desperate for recognition, but he has always wanted the kind of recognition that desperation will never bring. You have likely cured him of that desperation."

Sometimes draining that pond might bring the most interesting debris to the surface.

"He welcomed it. This time he could do something about it." Will had compassion for the child, but the choices of the man were beyond such things.

"Dr. Chilton's desperation for recognition could have driven him to become someone worthy of that recognition if he invested his time and focus in something other than cheap methods and petty displays of power. He wielded his authority like a blunt instrument, forcing evidence to fit his conclusions." Will's tone was dispassionate. "And he didn't know how to listen."

Will huffed, "It would be the first time he did as he was directed."

Prepare to get dirty to find it.

"He was terrified of it. Only fear can birth such rage," he said with warm approval. "That didn't surprise you, but he did manage to surprise you, didn't he?" Ding dong the Dragon's dead.

"He certainly managed to surprise Frederick." Score one for the Dragon. "Frederick was never going to be worthy of recognition. He was always bottom tier in everything but playing the sycophant. He chose to dabble in the human mind when he failed with the complexities of the human body, and we had Abel Gideon as a result."

He's been covered in worse.

Will's jaw worked slightly as he swallowed. "It was cleverness I did not expect of him. And compassion." For Reba. And selfishness, the need to buy some time and distance. Her life was spared in a way that made her useful. He protected her from the Dragon.

"But it was well worth the error in judgement, in the end. For this. For the reaction as you thought the opportunity had slipped away," Will did not give a faintly smug smile, but let his tone draw the expression for him.

"Hard work can make up for the lack of ... natural ability, if one chooses to put in the time and effort. Dr. Chilton wanted the recognition without the effort behind it given that his lack of natural ability." Will narrowed eyes at Hannibal for the mention of Abel Gideon. "Abel Gideon proved useful for you more than once."

Francis had bought himself time to get away and willingly gave it up because he wanted Hannibal. Hannibal would never put Francis on his own level, but he had to see the parallel between Francis' choice and his own. Desire masquerading as need could bring anyone down.

His lazy smile froze at the reminder of Will's goodbye. He hadn't appreciated renewing his acquaintance with despair after decades of estrangement, and only the opportunity to make Will say please mitigated his displeasure at the memory.

"It was worth it for this, but whatever debt of gratitude I owe Francis is already paid." Payment had been tendered in one bottle of wine and a pair of scars Hannibal wore on his side.

"Abel would have been a run of the mill familicide were it not for Frederick's desperate need for unearned fame." He cracked an eye and smiled in the face of Will's disapproval. "Abel was much better dinner company than Frederick ever was."

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