Work Text:
Hannibal Lecter was a man often immune to fear.
He was a predator, a man who had the ability to sniff out his prey. And fangs to bite into them. In his eyes, he was highest on the food chain. What did a creature like him have to fear?
Since falling in love with Will Graham, there was one thing he'd discovered he feared.
Losing Will Graham.
In his quiet moments, he still recalled grabbing onto Francis Dolarhyde, urging him off Will. And the Dragon's hands trying to choke him to death in return.
He'd only been worried for Will. Knowing his beloved was strong enough to have the Dragon battling him, but worried nonetheless. And that was a foreign feeling. Worry. Concern.
Paranoia.
That was a new development, too. Being on the run with his beloved meant he had something to lose now. All his life, Hannibal had already lost the one person who had been most important to him. He had nothing left to lose.
Until Will.
Now, with Will, he knew he'd sooner kill himself than let Will perish. He'd learned his lesson after Florence.
If anything were to happen to Will, he would follow him into oblivion. But until that day ever came, he would keep him alive.
After three years of waiting, stuck in a holding pattern, Hannibal presently looked up at the chateau. It was an older property of his, designated as a safe house or place to carry out his hobbies. However, it was the closest to their location.
They hadn't left the States yet as Hannibal wasn't fully recovered from his gunshot wound.
He'd tried expressing to Will he was fine, but surprisingly enough, Will had put his foot down, saying they would leave when Will felt Hannibal was well enough to go.
And Hannibal had decided he shouldn't be arguing over that.
They stepped inside, Will shutting the door as stray autumn leaves tried to slip in through the doorway. The kitchen greeted them first and Hannibal pursed his lips in mild irritation at the consistent layer of dust. He should have hired someone to clean this up sooner.
He opened the hall closet, spotting the vacuum. He grabbed the handle, but suddenly, Will’s hand was over his. “I’ve got it.”
Hannibal fought to hold his tongue. He relinquished his hold on the vacuum. He stepped away, hearing Will drag it out, clattering plug and all.
He peeked around the corner, spotting the basement. He quickly walked back to the front, grabbing one of their bags, filled with dirty laundry. He would be quite pleased to dispose of such smells.
He laid a hand back on the basement door, opening it and it creaked rather loudly. He clenched his teeth at the sound and, sure enough, he knew what was coming.
“What are you doing?” Will’s question wasn’t necessarily accusatory. But it wasn’t gentle, either.
“I would like to start one load of laundry. And to be sure that the washer and dryer are functioning.”
“I can do that later.”
Will’s mother-henning, though it made Hannibal feel a little fuzzy inside, was starting to get ridiculous.
“I am capable of walking down stairs, Will.”
His own tone was neither aggressive nor soft.
Hannibal didn’t hear any response to that. So, he decided to proceed. He stared down at the basement, only able to see the first few steps. The rest was like a black hole.
Were he a lesser man, Hannibal might have found it dark and foreboding. But basements had become like a place of privacy for him. He’d carried out many side projects in a basement. There was no reason to be scared of a basement.
His fingers felt for a lightswitch he recalled on the right hand side, clicking it.
Nothing.
A part of Hannibal wanted to go back and grab a flashlight from their car. But if he gave Will another opportunity to stop him, he’d never get anywhere.
It was just a little darkness. And Hannibal had never been scared of the dark. Not even as a child.
Slowly, he took his steps. The basement seemed to swallow him whole. His hand gripped the railing, keeping him steady. At least two steps creaked and he knew they hadn’t always creaked. This place was one little inconvenience after another, it seemed.
Finally, he reached the bottom. The cold stone cooled the soles of his clothed feet. He stepped in the darkness, sliding his feet along the floor just in case there was any type of mess. His hand reached out, feeling along the cold wall. He recalled there being a hanging light down here, too, just above the washer and dryer.
He stepped methodically, counting each move in his head. Finally, his toes gently hit something. The smoothness of its finish made him believe it was the washer or dryer. He smiled to himself, pleased that this was coming along easily.
His hand reached up, blindly, yet slowly moving to find the hanging light. His brow furrowed as waved his hand back and forth, trying to measure where he was feeling.
And then–ah ha! His fingers found the thick string. He’d remembered it being thinner, but the detail seemed unimportant. He’d found what he needed.
He pulled the rope and heard an audible click.
A small spotlight filled the space he stood in. The brief sense of relief was drowned out quickly.
Hannibal’s eyes widened as he took in the scene.
Spiders.
They were normal, everyday house spiders. Brown and gently fuzzy. But there were…far too many.
The washer and dryer were covered in the arachnids, nestled into their cobwebs. On top, between the dials, in between the two appliances, etc. And as Hannibal’s gaze traveled upward, the horror only became worse.
The string for the light was, as he recalled, a thin string. It was covered, almost head to toe, in spiders, some brushing their legs against his fingers. And above him, the spiders littered the ceiling, like vengeful gods watching him from their perch.
Hannibal took this in for only a few seconds. His brain processed the imagery, the neurons firing off in his brain.
And then, a bloodcurdling scream ripped from his throat.
***
Will had been wrestling with the damned vacuum, trying to figure out how to use just the hand-held suck, when he heard it.
A noise that he never thought in his wildest dreams he would ever hear.
The vacuum fell from his hands without a thought, his body moving instinctively. He rushed the short distance to the basement door. He could see a light on, but couldn’t take in the full scene. He speeded down the stairs, taking two at a time with the added light guiding him. When he rounded the corner, he was met with another body.
Hannibal had stepped back into him, scrambling past him with…panic?
Will watched in confusion as the man raced up the stairs, tugging and pulling at his long sleeves, his steps uneven. Will’s head naturally turned to the source and his eyes blinked in shock.
He stepped further into the basement, his eyes studying the little arachnids. It seemed someone had neglected to clean or spray down this area, leaving one spider to become more. He squinted at them, observing them. The way they crawled around each other made him think of a little community–like a commune.
Then, his senses returned.
Hannibal.
He turned away from the creatures, stepping back up the stairs quickly. Will turned the corner of the basement, shutting the door behind him. In the main room, no sign of him. Then, he felt a gentle breeze.
His head turned, spotting a sliding door to what he presumed led to the backyard.
Hannibal stood in the center of the patio, his arms wrapped around himself. As still as a statue in an abandoned garden.
Will slowed himself as he wandered into the backyard, finding his spot beside Hannibal. The man stared ahead, clearly lost in thoughts. Will observed him, staring at the man’s brown eyes…
“You’re afraid,” Will said, unable to keep the small surprise out of his voice.
“I’m…overwhelmed,” Hannibal replied.
“I can see that.” Will took a seat in one of the ceramic chairs, staring at the other man.
The mid-afternoon sun painted the landscape around them in an orange hue with a soft splattering of pink. Their shadows stretched along the cobblestone of the patio.
“...would you rather I determine the cause of your overwhelmedness?” Will said, leaning back in the chair. “Or do you feel like sharing, doctor?”
Another beat of silence. Then, Hannibal slowly stepped over to take a seat, his eyes darting to it with a brief examination, then took his spot.
“...I do not have a fear of spiders.”
“Didn’t say you did.”
In their next bout of silence, a bird sang a pretty song.
“...it’s impressive how big of a colony they’ve made. Spiders don’t usually make up colonies.”
“I foolishly should have made sure the place was cleaned out.”
“From prison?”
“I have my ways.” A ghost of a smirk appeared across Hannibal’s face.
Will felt a strange sense of gratitude for that. Watching Dr. Hannibal Lecter run away in terror was like stepping into The Twilight Zone.
“...the winter that our parents died,” Hannibal began softly, “A spider egg fell on us.”
Will rose an eyebrow, glancing at him.
“I used to squash spiders for her. Mischa hated them.” Hannibal’s gaze fell to a tree just above him. “She would grab my hand and hide behind me. Tug on my hand…”
Will gazed at him, the light of the slowly setting sun highlighting his face.
“We were under the scrutiny of the soldiers. Waiting in the cold.” Hannibal’s fingers twitched on one of the arms of the chair. “A spider was crawling down the wall. She tugged on my hand, pointing at it. I took my shoe off and whacked it.”
His eyes slipped shut. Will’s own shut, mirroring him.
“The egg was nearby. I didn’t see it. And it fell. And soon, they swarmed us. So many spiders. Beating their tiny little legs against us.”
Will’s eyes opened, meeting Hannibal’s gaze.
“Her screaming was all you could hear,” Will finished.
Hannibal let out a slow sigh, his fingers flexing out and then relaxing. “I hear enough of her screams when they took her away, echoing in my memory palace.”
Will swore he could hear the screams. Feel a younger, tinier Hannibal’s fear and agony. His bones rattled.
Then, Will gave a nod. He stood up, making his way to Hannibal. He leaned down, his hand pressing into Hannibal’s lower abdomen gently. “You didn’t tear anything?”
Hannibal blinked, his own hand moving beneath Will’s and under his shirt. “...no,” he confirmed.
Will’s hand moved up to Hannibal’s shoulder. “...I’ll squash the spiders for you.”
Hannibal let out a breath. “How very brave of you.”
“Certainly,” Will replied. “If I had my way, I’d like to keep them all together. Make a terrarium. Would make for a flourishing research opportunity.”
That brought a genuine smile to Hannibal’s face. “You can keep a few, if you desire.”
Will quirked a smile of his own. “I’m sure I’ll be able to get along without it.” He squeezed his shoulder. “Now you are going to rest. If you lay down for a solid hour, I’ll let you make me dinner.”
Hannibal looked amused, yet gave an agreeable nod. “I wouldn’t want such a privilege to be taken away.”
A hand held out to Hannibal in invitation. He gratefully placed his own hand there, allowing himself to be helped up.
Their hands didn’t separate as they stepped back inside.
“I don’t have a fear of spiders,” Hannibal repeated.
“I didn’t say you did,” Will repeated back.