Artist: Sally-The-Chicken
Pairings: Will Graham / Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham & Hannibal Lecter
Warnings: Character death (not Hannibal or Will)
Tags: Post canon, feelings, family, repercussions and resolutions
Sometimes the best of our future cannot be enjoyed fully without keeping a hold of the ties of the past. And sometimes those ties that bind actually set us free.
Will stops, breathing heavily suddenly. Some wounds do not heal. He gets up, his hand shaking, throat dry. He leaves the desk and walks over into the kitchen, refilling his coffee cup. Margot’s and Alana’s son will be 6 now. Our child would have been 10. He puts the refilled cup down with a careful, deliberate motion, the taste in his mouth a foul thing. He rubs his hand over his shirt, along the line of the scar on his stomach under it, the surrogate abortion scar, the one he got as punishment over 9 years ago, in the event that took Abigail from him as well.
He shakes his head once, trying to regain his equilibrium, glad that Hannibal isn’t here right now.
Speaking of whom… where is he? He sighs and picks up his cup again, ascending the stairs slowly, the upper floor of their house a huge loft-like bedroom, the bathroom the only thing separated off.
Hannibal is lying on the bed, in shorts, shirt open, reading, his skin dipped in the warm glow of the sun. He smiles in greeting but does not look up, a testament to the level of relaxation they have reached with each other, indeed. “What are you reading?”
“A brief history of time.”
Hannibal looks up, blinking a bit too innocently up at Will. “Maybe one time I will yet be able to finish the calculations.”
Will sits down next to him, shuffling until he can recline next to Hannibal, his clothed legs looking way overdressed next to Hannibal’s naked ones. He licks his lips, trying to figure out how to breach the subject and then just blurting out, uncaring, “Do you still want to change our life then?”
Hannibal closes the book with a small sigh through his nose, his gaze finding the horizon through the window. “There are things I would do differently, as you know.”
Will blinks. “They wouldn’t lead us here.”
A dry click as Hannibal swallows. “No, they wouldn’t.”
Hannibal sighs again and then turns onto his side, facing Will. His tone is low. “Sometimes I wonder what your and Margot’s child would have looked like. What a beautiful girl you would have had.”
Will exhales in a rush, his words harsh. “So it wasn’t enough to kill it, but you had to know what could have been, too.”
“Will.” Hannibal’s voice is low, apologetic. Firm. Sincere.
Will sighs. “I’m sorry. I just wrote about it to my Dad, I don’t know why.”
Link to art and fic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21542719/chapters/51355282
https://archiveofourown.org/works/21543643