FIC: "I know" (1/17)
Fandom: Red Dragon/The Silence of the Lambs/Hannibal
Pairing: Hannibal Lecter/Will Graham
Rating: R/NC-17
Beta: Malakai_Amlug & elfinessy (thank you very much, to both of you)
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 mu-sical 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 ONE - I Know
“I know, you’ve got me wrapped around your finger,
I know, you want the sin without a sinner.”
The warm and tropical air was heavy with the scent of bougainvillea and open fires. Voices -human and animal-were carried up the empty streets and made everything feel more alive.
The house was dark and in the twilight of the porch Will sat in his big chair, eyes closed and sipping dark Caribbean rum. He listened to the sounds of a typical evening and drowned his thoughts in the brown liquor. This was his daily ritual, for it was the only way how he was able to get any sleep. His demons were not able to reach him through the haze of the alcohol.
The sun slowly descended and painted the sky in brilliant fuchsia sparks and purple swirls. Between these vibrant colours were thin veins of crimson. Bright and red, sending shivers down Will’s spine.
Shadowy figures crawled out of his subconscious, clawing out into the open. Empty faces, glazed eyes and rivers of crimson blood flooded his mind and Will dropped the tumbler of golden-brown liquid to claw at his hair and curl up in the chair, fighting the panic attack that had him shaking. He tried to lock his memories back up but fear had its teeth in him and simply refused to let go. Will’s breath caught in his throat, no longer providing any oxygen to his lungs. His whole body trembled as hot tears ran over his cheeks and the long scar, burning his face.
Voices accused him of failing them, sending them to their death. Lounds’ burned and charred features with Mrs Hobbs’ dead eyes and everywhere was so much blood.
After a couple of breathless gulps, he was able to get his body under control again and uncurled himself. Heaving himself out of the chair, Will stumbled over the porch to the door, entered the dark house where he immediately headed for the bar and the bottles of rum.
The slow and comforting burn of the high-spirited drink over his throat helped him to centre on the distraction and let go of his haunting mental pictures. His throat worked hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing, as Will took big gulps, downing almost one quarter of the bottle in one go. Once more he raised the bottle and emptied it further.
A comforting drowsiness took hold of his senses and his vision became blurry. Slowly he sank down to the floor and lay down, staring at the ceiling. The whole room started to spin, making him even dizzier. His head felt strangely light and heavy at the same time. His thoughts flitted with light speed through his head, too fast to be grasped. He felt slightly sick, his head too heavy to lift from the ground and so he stayed, lying still, willing it all to go away.
The sounds outside which had been familiar and comforting minutes before, were suddenly painfully loud and hurt his ears. He needed peace and silence but he wasn’t able to get up to close the open door. He covered his ears with his hands and pressed them hard against his head to shut everything from the outside out. Harder and harder he pressed until he felt the pressure inside his head. More pain to block out the other pain. Why was there always so much pain?
Will’s eyelids got heavier and heavier with every passing second. Soon they dropped closed and the calming darkness behind them let him slowly drift off into sleep.
The corridor was endless. The cold walls were screaming at him with voices of people he hadn’t been able to save. There were doors on his left side. Behind each of the barred doors was one of the faces that haunted him constantly.
There were the high school girls Hobbs had killed; there was Mrs. Hobbs and the girl that had survived. Hobbs was behind the next bars.
Will fought to go on and pass all the accusing figures drenched in blood. He knew that there was somewhere he had to go, something he had to do, to see.
Behind the next bars and doors were Lecter’s victims. The hunter, Raspail and he even saw the Princeton student. All were staring at him with their glazed, dead eyes.
It felt as if the corridor was getting narrower with every step he took. The air stank of fear and blood and death.
Now he saw the Jacobis and the Leeds, Lounds was behind the next door and of course there was Dolarhyde too. He breathed fire and laughed at Will who was about to turn and run. But he had to go on. He just knew that he had to.
When he saw who was behind the next door, he got sick and threw up.
Molly and Josh stood silent at the bars and stared listlessly ahead. They were not covered in blood but the mere thought of them being at this place made Will sick. He hurried to reach his destination.
Finally he arrived in front of the last door. This one was made out of durasteel glass and there was nobody behind it. But on the glass were two words smeared on it with something red.
“Dear Will”
And Will screamed.
“I know, you cut me lose from contradiction,
I know, I’m all wrapped up in sweet attrition.”
Will screamed, woke and sat up. A moment later he threw up. Slowly he crawled away from the mess he had created and climbed up on the couch, using his higher position to get up standing. With unsteady steps and much help from his hands, which clung to the furniture on his left and right, he was able to make it to the bathroom.
His head hurt awfully. There was already the dull throb of the nearing hang-over.
In the bathroom he leaned over the sink to take calming breaths. With one hand he turned on the cold water tap. Cupping his hands, he let them fill with water and splashed the liquid on his face, washing it and rinsing his mouth. He repeated this action a couple of times until he didn’t feel as dirty anymore.
Looking up, Will’s eyes immediately locked on the scar prominent on his face. It was the reminder on the last job he had done for the FBI. It was also the reason why Molly had left him in the end. She hadn’t been able to bear being reminded of the happenings in Marathon. She had wanted to forget but with Will as a living reminder it had not been possible. Half a year after the night Dolarhyde attacked them, she had wanted the divorce, leaving Will on his own and he had done the only thing that had come to his mind, run. He had run for some time but in the end he had been drawn near again.
Will refused to live in the States again but he lived as close as he was willing to get and so he had bought a small cottage in Trinidad where he worked as a mechanic, repairing boat motors.
Tracing the scar a last time, Will forced himself to look away from his reflection. Somehow he felt the odd longing to smash every mirror in the house but the resemblance to what Dolarhyde had done made him shudder and so he just forced himself to leave the bathroom and climb the stairs to his bedroom. He needed some sleep, but without the dreams this time.
His eyes cracked open and the weak rays stealing through the shutters stroked with light fingers over his pillow and his face, spending some warmth. The dull throb in his head made his eyes water. He had known that he’d have a hang over but it had been a long time since it had been this bad. With a tired groan he climbed out of his bed and padded to the bathroom where he turned on the shower, letting the cold water pour down until the warm water came.
Stripping his soiled shirt and the shorts, Will got under the warm spray and rinsed all the dirt and grime off his body. He took the bar of soap and rubbed the cleansing into his skin. The warm water became warmer and then turned scorching hot. But he didn’t stop the water or step out of it. He continued scratching and rubbing his skin until he was satisfied. Until he was clean again. Until his skin was lobster red.
Will grabbed one of the towels hanging from the rack next to the shower stall. The cloth burned on his sensitive skin but he had to endure the pain because he had to get ready for work. Dropping the towel, he reached for the body lotion. The cool crème felt relieving and Will smeared liberally.
Clean and lotioned, he stepped up to the sink and reached out for his toothbrush. The whole time he avoided to look into the bathroom mirror. He had made a habit of avoiding reflecting surfaces.
When finally everything was finished, face and body clean, clothes fresh and hair brushed, Will went downstairs to the kitchen. Opening a cupboard, he took out the coffee and prepared the coffee maker. While the black-brown beverage was slowly dripping into the glass pot, he grabbed the mop leaning next to the kitchen door and headed for the living room to clean it. The sour smell of vomit made him gag, the whole stench effecting him even worse because of the hang over he was harboring. After finishing with the mess he had created the night before, Will strolled out on the porch and got the tumbler he had dropped the evening before.
There was the sound of children laughing outside. Some birds chirped and sang. The air was fresh and spicy and the golden morning sun sent balming warmth.
Inside the kitchen the coffee was finished and he took his clean mug out of the sink, filling it. The caffeine traveling through his veins woke his whole body up, sending enough energy for the new day. Will was grateful that such a drink like coffee existed because he knew that without his daily caffeine dose he would be unable to drag himself out of the house.
A short glance at the kitchen clock and he knew that he had ten more minutes before he’d have to leave. The half cup of coffee warmed his hands and it’s fragrance scented the room. Will drank the rest of the dark beverage and rinsed the mug in the sink.
Seven more minutes. He left the kitchen and went to the entrance. Putting on his shoes, Will took the old Fedora from the hat rack and put it on. The last thing he needed to get going were his sunglasses.
Now Will was good and ready to go. He closed and locked the front door and climbed down from the porch, heading off to work.
“I know, the past will catch you up as you run faster,
I know, the last in line is always called a bastard.”
Pairing: Hannibal Lecter/Will Graham
Rating: R/NC-17
Beta: Malakai_Amlug & elfinessy (thank you very much, to both of you)
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 mu-sical 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 ONE - I Know
“I know, you’ve got me wrapped around your finger,
I know, you want the sin without a sinner.”
The warm and tropical air was heavy with the scent of bougainvillea and open fires. Voices -human and animal-were carried up the empty streets and made everything feel more alive.
The house was dark and in the twilight of the porch Will sat in his big chair, eyes closed and sipping dark Caribbean rum. He listened to the sounds of a typical evening and drowned his thoughts in the brown liquor. This was his daily ritual, for it was the only way how he was able to get any sleep. His demons were not able to reach him through the haze of the alcohol.
The sun slowly descended and painted the sky in brilliant fuchsia sparks and purple swirls. Between these vibrant colours were thin veins of crimson. Bright and red, sending shivers down Will’s spine.
Shadowy figures crawled out of his subconscious, clawing out into the open. Empty faces, glazed eyes and rivers of crimson blood flooded his mind and Will dropped the tumbler of golden-brown liquid to claw at his hair and curl up in the chair, fighting the panic attack that had him shaking. He tried to lock his memories back up but fear had its teeth in him and simply refused to let go. Will’s breath caught in his throat, no longer providing any oxygen to his lungs. His whole body trembled as hot tears ran over his cheeks and the long scar, burning his face.
Voices accused him of failing them, sending them to their death. Lounds’ burned and charred features with Mrs Hobbs’ dead eyes and everywhere was so much blood.
After a couple of breathless gulps, he was able to get his body under control again and uncurled himself. Heaving himself out of the chair, Will stumbled over the porch to the door, entered the dark house where he immediately headed for the bar and the bottles of rum.
The slow and comforting burn of the high-spirited drink over his throat helped him to centre on the distraction and let go of his haunting mental pictures. His throat worked hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing, as Will took big gulps, downing almost one quarter of the bottle in one go. Once more he raised the bottle and emptied it further.
A comforting drowsiness took hold of his senses and his vision became blurry. Slowly he sank down to the floor and lay down, staring at the ceiling. The whole room started to spin, making him even dizzier. His head felt strangely light and heavy at the same time. His thoughts flitted with light speed through his head, too fast to be grasped. He felt slightly sick, his head too heavy to lift from the ground and so he stayed, lying still, willing it all to go away.
The sounds outside which had been familiar and comforting minutes before, were suddenly painfully loud and hurt his ears. He needed peace and silence but he wasn’t able to get up to close the open door. He covered his ears with his hands and pressed them hard against his head to shut everything from the outside out. Harder and harder he pressed until he felt the pressure inside his head. More pain to block out the other pain. Why was there always so much pain?
Will’s eyelids got heavier and heavier with every passing second. Soon they dropped closed and the calming darkness behind them let him slowly drift off into sleep.
The corridor was endless. The cold walls were screaming at him with voices of people he hadn’t been able to save. There were doors on his left side. Behind each of the barred doors was one of the faces that haunted him constantly.
There were the high school girls Hobbs had killed; there was Mrs. Hobbs and the girl that had survived. Hobbs was behind the next bars.
Will fought to go on and pass all the accusing figures drenched in blood. He knew that there was somewhere he had to go, something he had to do, to see.
Behind the next bars and doors were Lecter’s victims. The hunter, Raspail and he even saw the Princeton student. All were staring at him with their glazed, dead eyes.
It felt as if the corridor was getting narrower with every step he took. The air stank of fear and blood and death.
Now he saw the Jacobis and the Leeds, Lounds was behind the next door and of course there was Dolarhyde too. He breathed fire and laughed at Will who was about to turn and run. But he had to go on. He just knew that he had to.
When he saw who was behind the next door, he got sick and threw up.
Molly and Josh stood silent at the bars and stared listlessly ahead. They were not covered in blood but the mere thought of them being at this place made Will sick. He hurried to reach his destination.
Finally he arrived in front of the last door. This one was made out of durasteel glass and there was nobody behind it. But on the glass were two words smeared on it with something red.
“Dear Will”
And Will screamed.
“I know, you cut me lose from contradiction,
I know, I’m all wrapped up in sweet attrition.”
Will screamed, woke and sat up. A moment later he threw up. Slowly he crawled away from the mess he had created and climbed up on the couch, using his higher position to get up standing. With unsteady steps and much help from his hands, which clung to the furniture on his left and right, he was able to make it to the bathroom.
His head hurt awfully. There was already the dull throb of the nearing hang-over.
In the bathroom he leaned over the sink to take calming breaths. With one hand he turned on the cold water tap. Cupping his hands, he let them fill with water and splashed the liquid on his face, washing it and rinsing his mouth. He repeated this action a couple of times until he didn’t feel as dirty anymore.
Looking up, Will’s eyes immediately locked on the scar prominent on his face. It was the reminder on the last job he had done for the FBI. It was also the reason why Molly had left him in the end. She hadn’t been able to bear being reminded of the happenings in Marathon. She had wanted to forget but with Will as a living reminder it had not been possible. Half a year after the night Dolarhyde attacked them, she had wanted the divorce, leaving Will on his own and he had done the only thing that had come to his mind, run. He had run for some time but in the end he had been drawn near again.
Will refused to live in the States again but he lived as close as he was willing to get and so he had bought a small cottage in Trinidad where he worked as a mechanic, repairing boat motors.
Tracing the scar a last time, Will forced himself to look away from his reflection. Somehow he felt the odd longing to smash every mirror in the house but the resemblance to what Dolarhyde had done made him shudder and so he just forced himself to leave the bathroom and climb the stairs to his bedroom. He needed some sleep, but without the dreams this time.
His eyes cracked open and the weak rays stealing through the shutters stroked with light fingers over his pillow and his face, spending some warmth. The dull throb in his head made his eyes water. He had known that he’d have a hang over but it had been a long time since it had been this bad. With a tired groan he climbed out of his bed and padded to the bathroom where he turned on the shower, letting the cold water pour down until the warm water came.
Stripping his soiled shirt and the shorts, Will got under the warm spray and rinsed all the dirt and grime off his body. He took the bar of soap and rubbed the cleansing into his skin. The warm water became warmer and then turned scorching hot. But he didn’t stop the water or step out of it. He continued scratching and rubbing his skin until he was satisfied. Until he was clean again. Until his skin was lobster red.
Will grabbed one of the towels hanging from the rack next to the shower stall. The cloth burned on his sensitive skin but he had to endure the pain because he had to get ready for work. Dropping the towel, he reached for the body lotion. The cool crème felt relieving and Will smeared liberally.
Clean and lotioned, he stepped up to the sink and reached out for his toothbrush. The whole time he avoided to look into the bathroom mirror. He had made a habit of avoiding reflecting surfaces.
When finally everything was finished, face and body clean, clothes fresh and hair brushed, Will went downstairs to the kitchen. Opening a cupboard, he took out the coffee and prepared the coffee maker. While the black-brown beverage was slowly dripping into the glass pot, he grabbed the mop leaning next to the kitchen door and headed for the living room to clean it. The sour smell of vomit made him gag, the whole stench effecting him even worse because of the hang over he was harboring. After finishing with the mess he had created the night before, Will strolled out on the porch and got the tumbler he had dropped the evening before.
There was the sound of children laughing outside. Some birds chirped and sang. The air was fresh and spicy and the golden morning sun sent balming warmth.
Inside the kitchen the coffee was finished and he took his clean mug out of the sink, filling it. The caffeine traveling through his veins woke his whole body up, sending enough energy for the new day. Will was grateful that such a drink like coffee existed because he knew that without his daily caffeine dose he would be unable to drag himself out of the house.
A short glance at the kitchen clock and he knew that he had ten more minutes before he’d have to leave. The half cup of coffee warmed his hands and it’s fragrance scented the room. Will drank the rest of the dark beverage and rinsed the mug in the sink.
Seven more minutes. He left the kitchen and went to the entrance. Putting on his shoes, Will took the old Fedora from the hat rack and put it on. The last thing he needed to get going were his sunglasses.
Now Will was good and ready to go. He closed and locked the front door and climbed down from the porch, heading off to work.
“I know, the past will catch you up as you run faster,
I know, the last in line is always called a bastard.”