Fandom: Red Dragon/The Silence of the Lambs/Hannibal

Pairing: Hannibal Lecter/Will Graham

Rating: R/NC-17

Beta: Malakai_Amlug (thank you very much)

Summary: Sometimes running is not possible as the past catches up with you.

Notes/Warning: This is a slash story which means that it features two grown up men in love with each other and physically expressing this emotion in various forms. If you are in any way or degree homophobic, disgusted, disturbed, feel threatened or weirded out by such a relationship, please do not read any further and don’t write me any stupid e-mails to preach about the wrongs or rights of homosexual relationships.

Disclaimer: The characters portrayed in this story are by no means mine and belong to Thomas Harris. If you want to have some picture as a guideline for what these guys actually look like I would strongly suggest watching the movie versions of the books, which were done by DeLaurentis Pictures. As for the musical help I had with this story. The chapter titles and the paragraphs of lyrics in each chapter are songs composed and performed by Placebo. Therefore they are not mine either. I am not making any money with this and purely do it for my own amusement and entertainment.



CHAPTER SEVENTEEN - Bitter End


“On this fateful day
See you at the bitter end”


Will’s side and arm burned as if a hot iron was poking into his skin, burning away, down to the very bone. It was a feeling like acid eating deeper and deeper into his flesh. The first thing that came to his mind was to scratch away what was causing all the pain.

The hot wooden planks under him felt refreshing cool compared to the heat biting into his side. Will felt the urge to curl up and protect his injured side, but his movement was stopped by a strong hand that held him into place.

“Hold still, Will. I need to take a look at you.” Hannibal’s voice was calm and helped him to focus on something different than his aching side.

“Burns,” was his gasped reply to the other’s command. “Burns everywhere.”

Will cracked his eyes open and forced himself to look at Hannibal. There was a cold detachment in the maroon eyes that studied the younger man’s side. Maybe this closed off expression in the other’s eyes should have bothered him or made him wary but Will was in no condition to worry about it.

Tentatively Hannibal reached out to the reddish skin but Will fought to escape. There was no way he would allow him to touch the injured area.

“No!” he cried terrified. “Don’t touch!”

The hand was stopped but it still hovered dangerously close to Will. After a second of hesitation it retreated – for the time being at least.

“The burns,” Will fought hard to speak clearly but the pain only allowed gasped fragments of sentences,” Don’t touch them. Vinegar.”

Will hated being reduced to sentences worthy of a two year old. He wished the ache would just disappear so that he could regain control of his speaking abilities. It was horrible not being able to articulate his wishes and the advice, that not Hannibal, but he himself sorely needed in this moment.

Apparently he had not done too bad a job at explaining what was necessary because after a last glance at Will, Hannibal got up from his crouch next to him and headed for the kitchen compartment in the inside of the ship. The older man’s stockier form disappeared down the stairs, the shadows from inside swallowing him up.

Will tried to focus on something else besides then burning pain. His breaths were abnormally loud as he gasped and gulped for more oxygen. Will was scared of what was to come. The pain and the sick-ness, as well as the breathing problems were only the beginning and everything else would be upon them soon enough.

He needed medical attention. Now. But even though Hannibal was a doctor, he would surely not be qualified to take care of an injury like this. So the only solution would be to return to the island. But how?

The sudden realization that Hannibal would not be able to get the ship back to the harbour made his breath catch and he fought for air, and for some resemblance of control over himself. Fact was that the other man had never sailed before; the longest he had spent aboard a ship had been today’s out-ing.

The only option they had was to call for help and to hope that it would arrive in time. He should have told Hannibal to bring the mobile phone with him. They needed to get a doctor here as fast as possi-ble.

There was a creaking at the stairs and Hannibal returned. He carried a big glass bottle of Aceto Bal-samico and Will’s mobile phone. This might work; they were actually close enough to get a connec-tion.

The older man knelt down next to Will and put the small phone aside to open the bottle. The sweet-sour smell of the wine vinegar scented the air and Will felt bile rise in his throat. He had to fight hard against the feeling of queasiness. He was not sure how helpful Aceto Balsamico was to begin with, but it ought to be better than nothing at all.

“Hold still, I have to apply the vinegar to the affected area.” Hannibal’s voice was calm and meant to help him find something to focus on and to ignore the biting pain.

It actually felt like the pain was slowly becoming less. This might just be an illusion created to reduce the strain put on the tortured nerves, or it might as well be a sign that the next stage was beginning. The latter was a terrifying thought.

“Will.” Still calm but now the voice had a hard undertone to it. He struggled to pay attention to the things said. “I will pour the vinegar on the wound. Stay still!”

The moment the liquid came in contact with his skin, the burning increased by a tenfold. Will couldn’t help but groan painfully. Why did it hurt so much? Vinegar was supposed to help with jellyfish stings. His breaths became even shorter and he had to fight to cling to his consciousness.

“Will,” more steel to the voice again. “I need to you to tell me who to call. We need help.”

Right. He could do that. Telephone number. If only he was able to focus on the problem at hand. It was so difficult to ignore the intense burning and think about something else. With an effort he fo-cused long enough to come up with a name that could be of help. “Muta.” His friend would know who to call, what to do. “Call Muta.”

A sharp nod acknowledged his request and Hannibal searched for the name in the mobile’s address book. Will watched a little bit longer before the pain made him close his eyes to concentrate harder on breathing and staying conscious. It was a difficult feat but he would be able to do it.


“You’re showering me with lullabies
As you’re walking away”


A hand on his shoulder incited him to crack his eyes open and take a glance at the other’s face. He didn’t want to look at Hannibal; he wanted the pain to stop. His head felt light and heavy at the same time. It was as if his head was empty but too heavy to be turned or turned around.

With more than just a little effort Will rolled his head to the side and glanced out over the sea. He spotted something out in the water. In some distance to the boat floated a pinkish-blue bubble that was carried there and hither by the waves, without any real intention or destination in mind. It had a strange resemblance to a small sailing boat, a boat with shimmering and colorful sails. The swollen bag looked like it was ready take off and fly away but something kept it tied to the water and hin-dered it from the much desired escape.

No jellyfish. It was no jellyfish. That’s why the vinegar had hurt and was still hurting him so much. Forcing himself to look over at Hannibal Will overheard the other’s conversation with Muta.

“… from the water. It must have been some kind of jellyfish. We poured some vinegar onto the wound but he needs more help.” Hannibal stopped his side of the conversation to listen to the an-swer. He looked at Will, noticing him trying to get his attention. “One moment please.”

“Will?”
“No jellyfish…”

“What do you mean with ‘no jellyfish’? What attacked you then?” It felt like the maroon eyes were pinning him down onto the wooden planks of the yacht. There was the slight onset of confusion on the older man’s face as he tried to find out what Will was trying to imply.

“It was no jellyfish.” The talking was getting more and more difficult but he fought to keep on talking, “It was a … Portuguese Man o’ War.”

Satisfied that he had been able to communicate his discovery, Will closed his eyes and released a shaky breath. Muta and Hannibal would know what to do and they would help him. He knew they would.

His exhaustion made it impossible to listen to the conversation going on and so it was again a hand on his shoulder that brought him back to reality and made him open his eyes. The touch felt cool on his overheated skin and sent slight shivers over his arms and shoulder. The lids of his eyes felt heavy and were aching and his eyes burnt. Who would have thought that the sting of the Man o’ War would have this potency? He had heard about the sickness and the sometimes difficulty to stay conscious but to Will it felt more like his whole body slowly but constantly getting lame and that everything would result in his heart stopping to beat.

Forcing himself to focus on the man watching over him, Will realized that Hannibal was talking to him. Maybe he had asked him something? Will concentrated even more on paying attention but it was so difficult.

“Will, hold on. Muta said that there is a Coast guard out that will come here and take us to shore. They also know about the first aid needed. In the harbor an ambulance will be waiting for you.” The hand on his shoulder squeezed gently in a way that was meant to be reassuring but caused Will addi-tional pain. His whole body was protesting against any and every external influence.

“I have to say, Will, that this little outing of ours didn’t go quite as I expected.” Laughter stole into the maroon orbs and wrinkled at the corners of the older man’s eyes. It was a relief and also an anchor to see the familiar face.

The burning lessened some more but darkness was at the edge of his vision and waited to creep over him. Will took a stuttering breath and kept on fighting. He wished the coast guard was already here and they were on their way ashore. His strength was fading and he was not sure for how much longer he would be able to keep on fighting.

“I think this is the perfect time for my telling about what I have been deciding for us to do, once the current problem is dealt with of course.” The older man crouched down and studied his face. Will knew that what would come now was important and that he ought to pay attention but he feared that this was just out of the way at the moment.

“Will, I have thought about where to go from here. This is not only a phrase to express my thoughts on the developing relationship between the two of us but this is also referring to the topic of reloca-tion. I know that you have grown quite fond of this place here but I fear that the resources of culture are limited and the variety of diversions is rather scarce. I also have to admit that the local climate is not at all what I consider to be agreeable.

“Don’t you ever grow tired of the constant sunshine, heat and rainstorms?” The question had to be a rhetorical one, because in no way could Hannibal expect him to answer. There was no way that he would be able. “Well, taking all these facts into consideration, I perused various possibilities. Since the North American continent is out of the question for me, I focused my research on the Old World, Europe in particular. There is one place that has come to my attention and of that I am sure that your will approve of as well.”

Will felt his head ache. It was a throbbing that felt like it would either squash his brain or result in his head exploding. He had lost Hannibal somewhere along the way into his speech and was now left to wonder what exactly the other was trying to do here. The darkness grew and he tried to lift his hand and grab Hannibal’s. He was in need of tactile confirmation of the other’s presence.

“I think Prague will be the perfect choice…” The maroon eyes left his face and looked up over him. Tension was slowly leaving the older man’s body and he stood up. “The coast guard is here.”

Finally. Things would get better now. They would take him to the shore and they would have the right antidote and…

There was movement to his right and Will struggled to look at the commotion. A dark-skinned officer knelt down next to him, his colleague was searching through a large medical bag. The stranger smiled reassuring at him. “No worry, we’ll take care of the most important thing now and the doctor is al-ready waiting for to take over.”

Will nodded slowly and finally let his eyes droop closed. He knew that with Hannibal close and the other people helping him he was safe. He would be alright in no time and then he would ask Hannibal what exactly he had been trying to tell him just before.


“On this fateful day,
See you at the bitter end”