The Last Temptation

The Last Temptation
Chapter 8: A Better Wife

Story By: The Adrians
Song By: Erin Mckeown

Started: January 9, 2008 | 11:21 am PST
Finished: April 13, 2008| 3:49 pm PST

Authors’ Note:

Here we are…writing our note when we should in fact be doing something productive at work.
Who needs work? So anyway, here’s chapter 8. This chapter should span only part of the day. We aren’t sure that it’ll be the mammoth 18-pager that chapter 7 was, but it’ll definitely set the wheels ‘a-turning for a very different phase of this story.
Big thanks to those who reviewed: Vex, megara, Mino, and darkangel985 (again x6) -Honestly, you keep this story moving.
Darkangel985: Thank you so much for your reviews! We’re hoping we won’t disappoint with this next chapter.
So to those of you who actually keep a TLT calendar, this chapter will begin mid-morning of Day 21 and should end in afternoonish parts of the same day. You’re used to reading very short spans of time dragged into nearly 20 pages though. We’re thinking of actually making a stylized TLT calendar and updating it with every new chapter. We’ll put in fun tid-bits about the making of each chapter and maybe a little sneak-peak for the next. Tell us what you think.

Oh, by the way…megara: Sickle-cell anemia is not only found in African Americans. The majority of cases are commonly African American, but it is certainly not limited to them alone. Look here for more information: http://www.scinfo.org/sicklept.htm , or here: http://www.ascaa.org/FAQs.asp

Enjoy everyone!

Love and love,

T.A.

PS: Please read and review.

______________________________________________________________________________


Chapter 8: A Better Wife

I’m just something else he tried
A catalog of interests in a catalog of lives…

What is the proper response to “Your son might not live to see his 12th birthday.”? How exactly do you tell the man who has just spent 30 hours conducting tests for you that he should go back and do more, do something to make everything alright? How do you stay calm, stay patient when everyone around you has given up?
Those are funny questions… Molly thought as she boarded the small commercial aircraft destined for the small airstrip on Sugarloaf Key
The answer was so profoundly simple, so innate that the questions seemed obsolete.
You don’t… You don’t force the doctor. You don’t stay patient. You don’t stay calm.
You cry and cry until there are no tears left. When you feel sated, warm, and empty all at the same time you know that’s when you have to start loving instead of mourning.
Molly sighed a little. She should have seen this coming. The doctors said Willy only had a short time to live, but that didn’t mean one week. Willy had most likely passed out and Will was panicking. That was Will for you though. He could map the minds of the world’s most hideous creatures. He could see their intentions, understand their motives, hell, he could even see the humanity beneath the monster, but when it came to living with the sane majority of the world, he was lost.
-Absolutely and completely lost.
She remembered the moment she’d realized this, sitting beside Will in the hospital a second time. He was unconscious, face bandaged, body riddled with bullet holes. Tubes and hoses were everywhere and Molly felt a strong wave of anger for having to live through this again. She looked at Will’s torso, knew that beneath the sheets there was an old, dark scar that was familiar with this scenario. There was one person solely responsible for all of Will’s pain and still, when he woke up, if he woke up, Will would never seek any sort of retribution. He always seemed to understand. He seemed to understand why Hannibal Lecter would want to kill him. And for some reason he didn’t seem to mind. He’d just wake up, go through his physical therapy and never speak of the ordeal-
Until the next time Jack suckered him in and he had to play cat and mouse with the doctor and begin the whole mess over again. Her ex mother-in-law had once said that Will seemed to like Hannibal more than he liked being alive.
Molly was loath to believe that was true for a while, but something inside her knew better.
She’d get to their old house and find Willy just fine. Will probably fed him too much junk food and his body was having a hard time keeping up.
That was it…
That had to be it…

I hid myself from him
I wouldn’t say it was a lie…

Will opens his eyes on a darkened room. There is a window spilling moonlight onto the bedspread. Dreaming…
Will sighs and sits up. He takes a short look around and finds that he doesn’t recognize his surroundings. That’s a first. At the foot of the bed there lay clothing- an outfit consisting of a white shirt, black pants, and curiously enough- a mask.
Will pulls himself from under the covers and walks around the bed to inspect the garments further. The white shirt is plain save for the fine gold embroidery along the edge of the bell-shaped gathered cuffs. The pants have similar decoration about the waist. The blonde considers the clothing momentarily before he begins to dress. This dream was a break in the pattern, why not explore?
The mask Will saves until last, noting once he picks it up that the long, white feathers arch and fall like an angel’s wings from either side of the mask.
Once dressed, Will opens the doors that weren’t there until he needed them into a brightly lit ballroom. There is music and a flurry of men and women dancing. Will doesn’t bother wondering why he couldn’t hear the music or the chatter of a party from his room. He simply steps out into the din and closes the door behind him.
At his first step, the music stops. The crowd turns in surprise then bows deeply before parting for him.
Will is confused, but walks forward passing many colorful dancers in masks and Elizabethan attire. At the end of the channel his presence had carved stands a man dressed similar to Will and on either side a woman. The one on his left wears blue, her mask decorated with peacock feathers. The one on the right wears burgundy, her feathers brown. The other man’s mask is black, a darkened parody of Will’s white one.
He knows instantly the other man is Hannibal.
He stands before them and all three hold out their hands. Will walks forward and a voice he vaguely recognizes as Jack Crawford’s calls: “A Dance in the Life of Will Graham”
The lights go out save for spotlights on the three and Will. The music begins again.
Will finds himself drawn to the woman in blue. She is familiar somehow, dark hair curling and pooling about her olive shoulders. The way she holds her hand on her hip as she reaches, the way her head is tilted back in a challenge…reminds him of-
Molly.
The second he takes her hand, he knows it’s Molly. The music is sweet and flowery. Picture-perfect, like they had been. He sweeps her gently, warmly about the floor, dips her low and eases her forward again. They dance like they lived- with easy grace, comfortable grace, affectionate, polite, lukewarm grace.
As Will pulls Molly in from a spin, a hand grips his free forearm and he is pulled in the direction of the man in the black mask.
He now has two dance partners. Hannibal holds one hand and Molly holds the other, and they dance, Hannibal all the time pulling Will closer and Molly’s grip, Molly’s presence in the dance slowly becoming weaker. Will knows this part well. The music becomes darker and faster, riddled with violin flourish and the deep beats of a timpani. He lets himself be led by Hannibal across the floor- lets himself be dipped and lifted in a way far more passionate than the dance with Molly had been. He tries to dance with both, giving Hannibal his passion and Molly his politeness, but can’t- he let’s go of Molly’s hand and just before he takes Hannibal’s there is a violent crescendo that Will knows is the paperknife stabbing through him. He falters back and is caught in blue gloved arms.
The music is a sad dirge, Will dancing weakly with Molly as Hannibal daces furiously alone. It is now the woman in burgundy’s turn. She takes Hannibal’s hand, tentative at first, but as the music becomes more strange, more thick and filled with the wail of the oboe, her movements become more purposeful, more heated and passionate…
Clarice…
Hannibal teases her, never holding or dipping her for long. Will can see the fury build in her steps as she advances until in another crescendo, she clamps both hands around Hannibal’s and holds them behind his back. She has him trapped- all the while Will and Molly’s dance is getting less and less personal. He doesn’t dip her, he doesn’t touch her waist. They dance nearly a foot apart, pretending they don’t notice the space.
The music builds to a nearly frightening height, Hannibal dancing back to Clarice until the sound abruptly stops.
Will looks up from his tired, impersonal dance to Hannibal and his outstretched arm.
Clarice is on the ground, staring shocked at the doctor.
Will looks to Molly. She’s nearly ten feet away, standing still. She stopped dancing with him long ago.
The blond isn’t so sure he knows how this part should go. He could take the doctor’s hand and dance that passionate, dangerous dance with Clarice biting at their ankles or he could continue to dance all alone…A sad, tired, funeral dirge for himself..
Will looks up again at Hannibal’s hand, then into his eyes. They glisten with want and promise of a better tomorrow. They glisten with blue water and soft kisses, tenderness, understanding…
Will takes a deep breath and steps forward. He hears the gentle pluck of musicians resetting their bows on strings, a soft stirring gasp in Clarice, and the pounding of his own heart as he reaches out and takes Hannibal’s hand.
Hannibal’s smile is nearly imperceptible but Will catches it just before he’s pulled back into the dance. Their music begins, this time stronger and deeper, like the beating of a heart and suddenly Will knows he’ll dance this dance until the moment he dies.
Their movements get a bit suggestive and Will smiles. No one else could make sex so natural. He feels the fingers on his hips slide lower and the lips on his neck get bolder as the music takes on a wicked, sinful sound.
Something blue flashes out of the corner of his eye and Will turns his head. Dancing together with equal amounts of tawdry fervor are Clarice and Molly. The blonde is taken aback for a moment. The women are dancing together, but Clarice’s eyes are firmly locked on Hannibal. Will feels a pang in his chest for Molly- that is until she and Clarice begin advancing on their dance.
The music kicks up, no longer intimate and warm, but strange and filled with violent trills. It is an oboe-filled parody of the passion only moments before.
Clarice lunges first, grabbing Hannibal’s hand from Will’s waist, followed by Molly who takes Will’s free arm and pulls.
The four of them join in a tangled dance, the music a mixture of Hannibal and Clarice’s Viennese waltz and Will and Molly’s polite minuet until Will feels a searing pain in his chest that could only be the stiletto paperknife through his heart.
He looks at Molly who has gone still, at Clarice whose hand still holds the knife, then Hannibal whose eyes suddenly look more gorgeous and more human than he’s ever seen them. Will’s eyes fill with tears at the thought of never seeing them again.
As he falls to the floor, blood pooling around him, the three other dancers bow and the room bursts into applause…

But hiding worked its way into
The way we lived our lives…

It was mid-morning and the sun streamed faintly red through thick velvet curtains onto Will’s sleeping face. The tears that streamed down his cheeks reflected that vague red glow and for a moment Hannibal imagined Will was crying tears of blood.
Dreaming again…
The doctor brushed the tears away with a gentle thumb and waited for the younger man to stir.

Will woke to warm breath at his ear and an even warmer hand on his face. He kept his eyes closed; suddenly not wanting to know whose hand it was, though it was slowly dawning upon him anyway.
“I seem to recall you promising me you’d describe your dreams in detail once we’d met.” Hannibal’s voice was soft and casual. His lips brushed Will’s ear as they formed the words that dripped like honey into Will’s consciousness.
The blonde smiled faintly, turning into the voice at his ear. “I don’t recall promising anything…”
The response was a low chuckle. “No? Perhaps you didn’t promise. But you did offer.”
Will nodded, his eyes still closed. “Yes.”
“How about telling me a little about why I had to stitch you back together not more than a week ago?” His hand grazed over the arm in question.
The blue eyes opened a fraction. The hurt in them was familiar. Hannibal sighed, using the offending hand to gently brush away the hair covering Will’s eyes.
“I can’t make the pain go away if you don’t tell me what’s hurting, Will…”
The blonde nodded softly, but closed his eyes again.
-“I dream of you…”
Hannibal frowned slightly. “Of me?”
Will drew in a long, tired breath. “Yes, of you. All my dreams have been of you. The first ones were of moments we’d actually spent together…The time you visited me at Bethesda…The time you…killed me…but they were different. You didn’t kill me, you kissed me. You asked me to go away with you.” Will could feel the tears leak from behind his closed eyes. He leaned into the hand wiping them away.
“These last couple of dreams haven’t been of actual events. The one on the dock…and last night’s…They were…”
-“Tell me about last night’s, Will.”
Will sighed, but acquiesced. “I woke up in a dark room and noticed some clothes at the foot of the bed. They were pretty plain save a white-feathered masquerade mask. I put them on and went through the doors. It opened into a ballroom- People were dancing and talking and music was playing. As soon as I stepped in, the crowd parted. I walked through the divide until I reached three people; a man in a black feathered mask and two women. The man was you. The women were Molly and Clarice. Then I heard Crawford’s voice. He said: ‘A dance in the life of Will Graham’…or something like that. I took Molly’s hand and began to dance. We danced how our marriage felt- a sort of polite façade. Then you took my hand and I danced with both you and Molly until you tried to kill me. I fell back on Molly and you began to dance with Clarice. Pretty soon Clarice had you bound with your hands behind your back. Then the music stopped. Clarice was on the floor and you were looking at me. You held your hand out. I took it and we danced…It was beautiful…and sexy…Then I caught a glimpse of Molly and Clarice dancing together just before they advanced on us. Then the four of us were dancing until Clarice stabbed me with the paperknife and I fell to the floor. The last thing I saw was your eyes…and the last thing I felt was sadness… because I’d never see them again…”
Will turned his head into the pillow, suddenly embarrassed. The tears ran hot onto the soft silk beneath him.
Hannibal lifted Will’s head, gently wiping the tears away before he spoke. “Will, look at me…”
The blue eyes parted slowly, reluctantly. They were unfocused and watery.
-“Will…How can I make you understand? I won’t let Clarice hurt you.”
The blonde shook his head. “Why?”
The doctor frowned a little. “Because I care about you, Will…”
Will didn’t seem to hear his words. “Why me? Why me? Why not Clarice? Why am I special? You could have her. She won’t resist or be afraid. She won’t ques-“
Hannibal pressed his lips to Will’s, effectively silencing the younger man. When he pulled away, Will’s eyes were decidedly more focused, but still watery with tears.
The doctor’s voice was soft, but firm. “Why, Will? I think you know why. I could have a pet that sits on my shoulder and agrees with whatever I say…Or I could have a being that knows me better than I know myself. One who walks in my mind as if it were an open garden, one who reads me like a book. One who is in my thoughts as much as I’m in theirs…” The warm hand cupped Will’s face, voice dipping lower.
“Why would I want a bird when I could have an angel?”

I could see that he was troubled,
He had trouble with his pride…

Clarice sat in seat 13C. She was behind a tall, sleeping man, directly opposite of a well dressed business type and right beside a woman with wavy brown hair that stared somewhat nostalgically out the window. She chewed her full bottom lip, suggesting she was slightly apprehensive about something. Clarice could identify with that. She’d hopped a plane to Marathon without orders. If it got back to Jack, she’d have some serious explaining to do and right then, she wasn’t up for explaining anything. She could hardly believe what she was doing. Only a year or so ago she wouldn’t have even considered this a possibility. Then again, a year ago, Hannibal Lecter, genius, doctor, murderer, hadn’t kissed her and turned her world upside-down.
She sighed out loud.
The woman at the window turned and looked at her sympathetically. “You sound how I feel.”
Clarice smiled. “Nervous?”
The woman returned the smile. Clarice noted that her eyes were much wider and rounder than she’d initially thought. She looked familiar.
-“Nervous is an understatement. I think I’m bordering on terrified.”
Starling frowned a little. “Is it flying?”
A few wavy ringlets bounced as she shook her head. “No, it isn’t the flying. I’m worried about my son. He’s in Marathon with my ex husband.”
Clarice’s frown deepened. “Has he been-“
-“Oh, no…He hasn’t been kidnapped. I sent him over there to spend some time on the beach. He’s sick and I got a call last night telling me he’s getting worse, so I’m flying out to take him back home.”
Starling nodded. That was dedication. She liked to think her mother might have done the same thing had she been alive long enough. Her father certainly would have. What would daddy have said if she told him she was going to Marathon to look for a man she wasn’t supposed to be…infatuated with? Would he have understood? Probably not. She didn’t expect anyone to understand, not even him.
-“I’m sorry about your son…”
The woman shook her head. “Don’t be. He’s fine, I’m sure. He probably passed out and my ex husband is just paranoid.” She turned her head to look out the window just as the captain made the announcement that they would be landing within the next few minutes.
-“So why are you nervous?”
Clarice looked up from where she’d been staring off. “Oh, I’m here without orders…” It had just sort of slipped before she even thought about it. She looked nervous for a moment, but then relaxed. She’d probably never see this woman again. What would it matter?
-“Without orders?”
“Yes. I work for the FBI and I’m following a lead without orders to do so.”
The other woman stiffened a bit, but nodded. “You do what you have to do”
Clarice noted the tensing. “That’s what I figure.”
Then the plane started its descent and both women sat silently in their seats until it had touched down.
They were standing up to leave when the woman held out her hand. “I’m Molly, by the way. Good luck with your lead.”
Starling’s eyes widened just a bit, but she took the hand and shook it. “I’m Clarice. Good luck with Willy…”

But I could never tell,
If the fault was his or mine…

“I have to go back to my place…Molly said she’d be there at ten. I still have to find a way to tell her…” Will trailed off as he walked out of Hannibal’s bedroom and into the living room. The older man was hidden behind the walls separating his kitchen off from the rest of the flat.
-“Did you drive?” He called.
Will could smell breakfast and felt his stomach lurch in hunger. He hadn’t eaten much yesterday.
-“No, I walked.”
The older man stepped out between the walls where Will could see him.
“I’ll drive you back then. It’s quarter ‘til ten. That doesn’t leave time for breakfast.”
Will shrugged. “I don’t think it would be a good idea for me to eat before I talk to her…”
Hannibal nodded. “Let’s go then.”
The drive back was pleasantly quiet. Will had never ridden in a Bentley before. It looked well worth the many hundreds of thousands it took to order and buy. The older model Hannibal owned back in the 70’s was gorgeous, but it was nowhere near as attractive as the sleek Brooklands that the older man was driving now. The blonde wondered idly if Hannibal would let him drive it should he ask. The thought warmed him slightly- knowing that if he wanted to, he could ask now, or tomorrow, or the next day, or the next day- because the doctor would be there…Or at least, that’s what he promised.
As they passed Jeremy’s shop, one of Hannibal’s hands left the steering wheel to squeeze Will’s knee. He smiled slightly. The wings on Jeremy’s window…Hannibal always knew what he was thinking.
They pulled into Will’s driveway ten minutes or so later. Will stared up at Willy’s window through the windshield and sighed. He’d left the boy…left his lifeless little body all alone upstairs. He was probably still in rigor….Will closed his eyes.
“Would you like me to stay?” Hannibal’s voice was soft, understanding.
The blonde nodded. “Park next to the boat.”
Lecter pulled up alongside the larger of the two boats and parked. The Bentley wouldn’t be visible under the covered drive where the boats were.
Both men exited the car and headed inside the house. The door was unlocked. Will hadn’t thought to lock it last night. When he opened the door, he half expected the stench of decomposition to strike him, but he knew that wasn’t possible. Willy was less than twelve hours dead.
Hannibal followed Will into the kitchen. There was still a few minutes until ten rolled around. Will was pretty sure that Molly’s flight landed at ten so they still had some time.
“What are you going to tell her?”
The blonde shook his head, crossing the kitchen to the liquor cabinet. He opened the doors and stared inside. The oval bottle of whiskey still had a glass or so of liquid left. He was about to take it off the shelf when a flower of revulsion bloomed suddenly in his chest. It was only ten in the morning.
“I don’t think being drunk will help…” Hannibal’s hand was soothing the tension at the back of Will’s neck as the words were breathed softly into his ear.
Will dropped his hand and let his head fall forward. The doctor turned the younger man around and slid his arms about his waist.
The blonde looked up. The red-brown eyes were calm.
He leaned forward, touching his forehead to Hannibal’s.
It was only a moment before warm lips were pushing against his. Will tilted his head slightly and closed his eyes.
Kissing Hannibal Lecter was everything and nothing like what he’d imagined all at once. Since the first time only a few days ago, the blonde had been perplexed by it. The feelings were like he imagined- He was excited, scared, endeared, and overwhelmed all at the same time.
But Hannibal was different…There was so much more to the real thing then there was to dreams- like the way he could feel each of the doctor’s fingers as they corseted his chest and waist or how his lips tugged gently at Will’s, coaxing them apart with a tenderness he’d never imagined possible from the other man. All in all, it was a wonderful sensation, only made better by the tongue that had been slowly tracing his lower lip, waiting to enter his mouth.
And Will was just about to grant it entrance when a soft, but angry voice interrupted.
-“I certainly hope you waited until Willy was dead at least before you climbed all over each other…”
Will’s eyes snapped open. Molly stood at the entrance to the kitchen, arms crossed, eyes filled with tears.
“Fuck…” He said softly as Hannibal pulled away.
To the man’s credit, he didn’t act surprised. He simply took his hands from Will’s waist and turned around to greet Molly with a slow nod.
Molly’s expression turned from anger to horror and back to anger again within a second as she saw who exactly she was chastising.
“Oh my god…” The tears were welling up as she started to back away from the kitchen.
Will put on the calmest expression he could. The one he used when he was talking to living victims or their families. “Molly, stop…Before you do anything, just stop- and listen to me.”
“Li-listen to you, Will? Are you fucking serious? My son is dead…and you’re…you’re making out with…” Molly’s voice was cracking with the beginnings of hysteria. She continued to back out of the kitchen, towards the stairs and the front door.
-“Molly, please…Listen. Willy died last night at around 11. Hannibal wasn’t here…”
-“Yeah, right. He probably killed him! He’s probably missing his kidneys or his-“
-“Molly, shut up! Shut the fuck up! You have no idea what you’re talking about!” Molly stopped moving. Will was suddenly angry enough to kill her right there. All the snide comments, the looks, the disgusted poise she’d used when discussing the doctor came right back to Will in that second and it was making him more livid than he’d been in a long time.
He swallowed hard, remembering that he was supposed to be the calm one and lowered his voice significantly before he spoke next. “Hannibal wasn’t here and he did not kill Willy. I take it you’ve gone upstairs.”
-“Yeah, I went upstairs. Where I found my son dead and alone, you sick fuck!”
Will ignored the last part, concentrating on what he needed to communicate to her. “That’s enough, Molly. We need to decide what to do with Willy’s body. Do you want me to arrange-“
“No, I don’t want you to touch him! You’re filthy with the blood of all the people he killed!” Molly was shrieking as she ran up the stairs and towards Willy’s room. Will ran after her.
When he caught up, she’d thrown herself on top of Willy’s body, screaming and crying hysterically for Will not to touch him.
“I’m taking him with me! I’m taking him back right now! Don’t you fucking touch me, Will! I’m taking him!”
Will shook his head, fingers squeezing the bridge of his nose as he tried to make sense of the situation. Somehow Molly had managed to pull up and come inside the house without making any noise. Either that or she’d already been here. What had she said: ‘I found my son dead and alone.’ That was it. Molly was already here when he and Hannibal arrived. Will sighed. Suddenly he felt like all of the previous night’s tears and kisses were selfish and unneeded.
“Molly, you can’t take him with you…” He said softly.
-“Yes, I can! I’m taking him!”
“Molly, no, you can’t…” He repeated.
-“Yes, I can, Will! I can!”
“Listen to me Molly…You can’t take him.” Will took a step towards them.
“I can! I can! I can! Willy’s coming with me, see? He’s coming…” Molly stood up then, and pulled on Willy’s hand. When it didn’t move, she pulled harder, trying to get the boy into a sitting position so that she could carry him.
Will rushed forward, trying to hold Molly from the boy’s body.
The woman slapped him off and grabbed at Willy’s hand again.
-“Molly…you can’t take him because he’s dead. He’s in rigor!”
She tore at the skin, trying to get it open, to get it to move at all.
-“If you pull at his hands like that you’ll-“
Will both felt and heard the sickening crack of bones breaking as Molly finally got Willy’s hand to open. The little black pearl he’d found in the boat fell onto the bed near his hand.
Molly sat and stared at the pearl and the little hand that had once caged it.
-“He’s…and I just…” She reached out and picked up the small, dark object.
Will nodded. “Yes…and, yes…but you didn’t know.”

So I drew myself away,
I wouldn’t say I left behind
A man who would never know the man he was inside…

Molly stood up, turned around and looked at her ex husband. The man was staring at the broken fingers with a look of vague horror. He had no right to look like that. With all the blood and the gore that had been seen with those eyes, right now, a dead little boy with broken fingers shouldn’t even be a bother.
His eyes had no right to judge her. The eyes that looked on Hannibal Lecter with tenderness had no right to call her a bad mother. No right, no right at all…
The anger came back again, but this time she didn’t scream or cry, she just lifted her hand and hit Will straight across the face. She hit him hard enough to send him back a step or two and when he looked at her, his face was blank. That made her even angrier. She came forward again and raised her hand to hit him, but he caught her this time, with his left hand.
The sleeve fell back and she saw neat stitches creeping out of clean bandaging. The pansy fuck had cut himself, and his sweet deranged doctor had stitched him up again. Molly ripped her hand back and shook her head. She took Willy’s bag and her own and shoved past Will, heading down the stairs to where Hannibal was sitting at the kitchen counter, sipping a glass of whiskey.
Molly looked at the clock in the kitchen. It was 10:30. She told the cab driver to be back by now. She stared hard at Hannibal for a few moments. Hannibal stared back, one eyebrow quirked in a show of superiority he probably didn’t even know he was performing. Molly knew she wouldn’t get away with taking her anger out on Lecter so she turned away and left through the front door, not looking back even once.

In a moment he was gone
I could see that he had died…

As the door closed, Hannibal set down his glass of whiskey and walked upstairs to find Will. The blonde stood in Willy’s room, staring at the body in the bed, one hand covering his face. The sheets were disheveled and one of Willy’s hands looked a bit crumpled.
So that was the lovely Molly…
At that moment, Hannibal remembered exactly why he’d sent Dolarhyde to kill Will’s family.
He entered the room quietly and stood in front of Will, taking the wrist of the hand that was covering the ex investigator’s face and bringing it to his lips. There was a quickly reddening mark on Will’s left cheek- the one with the trailing scar.
Hannibal then remembered exactly why he’d been glad Dolarhyde’s attack had failed.
“You let her leave?” Will’s voice was soft and blank.
Lecter nodded. “I saw no reason to make her stay.”
Will sighed, finally taking his eyes off the bed and Willy. “You aren’t afraid she’ll call Crawford?”
The doctor shook his head. “No. She’s a grieving mother right now, not a concerned citizen.”
The blonde nodded. “What should I do?”
“Why don’t we make arrangements for Willy’s body to be taken back to Oregon?” He suggested as he closed his eyes kissed the rapidly beating pulse beneath his lips.

By the quickening of blood
And the fluttering of eyes…

Clarice sat alone at the bar of one of the less resort-style drinking establishments in down-town Marathon. In one hand she nursed a glass of straight bourbon, in the other, a Camel Turkish Jade cigarette. She didn’t often smoke. Smoking didn’t help when you were trying to run Quantico’s track four times a day.
But Clarice didn’t need to run the track anytime soon and she was in dire need of something to calm her racing mind. Menthol, even though it gave lungs a good beating, seemed to work better than anything.
So Molly and Willy were in Marathon…They probably wouldn’t stay long, as Molly didn’t seem to be very happy with Will, but their being on the island meant that Hannibal was probably lying low wherever he was staying. That meant he’d be easier to find.
She emptied her glass of bourbon and leaned against the back of her barstool. Even if it was only a small relief, Clarice was glad she had some rational thought back. Now if only she could muster up enough to pick up a phone and tell Crawford where Hannibal was. She shook her head, taking a drag on the cigarette between her fingers. That wasn’t happening any time soon.
“Mind if I join you?” Clarice looked to her right at the small, brown haired woman she now knew as Molly. Her eyes were puffy and red from crying and the rasp to her voice did nothing to betray that theory.
Clarice frowned slightly in concern. “Not at all…Your son…is he alright?”
Molly sat and down and ordered a tall glass of water and a long-island iced tea.
”You know, when we were leaving the plane you said ‘Good luck with Willy.’ I don’t recall ever telling you my son’s name.”
Clarice blinked, surprised at the mistake she hadn’t even realized she’d made. She sighed then and took another drag on her cigarette.
”You didn’t have to, ma’am. I’m familiar with both you and your son.”
Molly nodded. “More like you’re familiar with Will. My son and I are just part of that package.”
-“I’m sorry that I wasn’t more guarded.”
-“No, don’t worry. It isn’t your fault.”
-“How is Willy?”
Molly took a long sip out of the cocktail she’d ordered. “He’s dead.”
-“What?”
The older woman nodded, closing her eyes as she drank more deeply. “He’s dead, Ms. Starling. He’s dead and Hannibal- who I’m sure you’re here for- is sitting at the counter, drinking with- that is if he isn’t already screwing- Will.”
Clarice’s eyes widened. She swallowed hard and took a deep breath. No, he wasn’t…He wasn’t…She still had a chance. She just needed to see him- to talk with him- to touch him...
She shivered and turned back to Molly. “Hannibal is there?”
-“Yes, he’s there right now. My son’s body is upstairs, in rigor.”
-”Oh my god…”
-“That’s what I said…”
-“Are you going back to Oregon?”
-“My flight is scheduled to depart in ten minutes and I’m not on it. So no, not right now.”
-“Could I ask you to stay local?”
-“Do I have a choice?”
-“Not really.” Starling smiled a little.
Molly smiled back, taking another long sip of her ‘iced tea’.
”Well, since I’m going to be here a while I better book myself a hotel. I’m not staying with Will…” She laughed a little, but the sound was mirthless and bitter. “I didn’t plan on heavy spending, though so I might have to call my parents to wire me some.”
Clarice looked vaguely apologetic. “You could stay with me, at least until you get the money to book your own room. I booked a double at the Beringer by mistake.”
-“The Beringer? I don’t want to impose- especially since I’m bound to cry a lot.”
-“You wouldn’t be imposing, ma’am. It’ll help me make my report anyway. You can tell me exactly what happened,” She swallowed, somehow not sure if she really wanted to know. “That way I can get a more accurate picture of what we’re dealing with.”
Molly nodded. When she spoke next, her voice was again thick with sadness. “I just didn’t think that…you know, when I put Willy on that plane…it would be the last time I saw him alive.”
Clarice stared into her empty glass, knowing exactly what the other woman meant. When she’d kissed daddy goodbye that morning, she didn’t think it would have been the last time she ever got see him living.
It didn’t seem fair, did it?
-“Are you alright? I’m sorry…”
Agent Starling looked up from where she’d been staring off. Molly was talking…
“…my suffering shouldn’t be yours. Your job is hard enough.”
Clarice shook her head. “My job is-“
Molly patted her hand. “I know…”
-“Can I buy you another drink, ma’am? I think we both could use a few…”
-“Call me Molly, please.”
-“You can call me Clarice then.”
-“Good. And yeah. I’ll buy for you if you buy for me…”
Clarice smiled and ordered another long island iced tea.
Molly ordered another glass of bourbon.
They traded drinks and Molly looked pensive for a moment.
“You know, I think I’m starting to hate men…The good ones either die or turn out to be gay…”
The red-headed agent choked a little on her bourbon. “I know what you mean…”

So I held him to my breast,
Like all the better wives
Who furnish men with love and never leave their sides…

Will wasn’t sure how many mortuary services there were in Marathon. He supposed Florida had to have plenty as that’s where the nation’s retirees liked to die best, but he wasn’t sure if Sugar Loaf Key had many retirees. That hardly mattered though. He wasn’t looking on the behalf of a seventy year old man…He was looking on the behalf of an 11 year old boy.
Will never dealt with natural death before. When his dad died however many years back, his mother had made all the arrangements. Will didn’t even know if he died at home…
The blonde sighed angrily and opened the phone book. The coroner’s number was under the police and the fire departments’. He picked up the phone and dialed.
Within the hour the coroner arrived, accompanied by two assistants. He was an older man, hair white with age. His assistants were young, probably trainees. Will let them inside and showed them upstairs.
-“You called for a coroner the way a Fed would, but I figure this is your house, sir.”
-“Yes. I…wasn’t sure I could do it the civilian way.”
The coroner nodded.
-“Name?”
-“William Graham.” Will swallowed hard.
-“No, the deceased’s name.”
Will shook his head. “That is his name.”
The coroner’s eyes narrowed as he looked between Will and the boy on the bed.
-“I see.”
-“Were you here when he died.”
-“Yes.”
“Was anyone else here with you?”
“No.”
-“Around what time did he die?”
Will knew asking was just protocol. The two trainees were already taking Willy’s liver temperature. They’d know soon enough.
-“Around 11 last night.”
One of the trainees looked up from Willy’s body. “Sir, the body’s in full rigor. Liver temp suggests he’s been dead about twelve hours.”
-“Well, that checks out. Any serious medical conditions?”
-“Yes. Sickle-cell anemia. My ex-wife sent him down here to see me…one last time. The doctors told her he didn’t have much time left. I’m not sure if it’s from advanced renal failure because of the sickle-cell…or if it’s something else…”
The coroner nodded. He looked minutely sympathetic. Will understood. He was sure he’d had that look before when confronting the family of deceased persons. Will wished someone would have told him how infuriating that look was though.
-“Mr. Graham…Your ex wife sent him here. Did she and the deceased live out of state?”
-“Yes. They live in Oregon.”
-“Alright. I don’t see need for further investigation. But we’ll pull up his medical records and perform an autopsy to determine cause of death. Have you informed his mother?”
“Yes. Is there any way I can arrange to have his body sent back to Oregon?” Will knew the answer already. He was just being polite.
-“Yes. We’ll transfer him to mortuary services once we have a death certificate issued. I’ll leave you the number.” The coroner pulled a card out of the pocket of his coat and handed it to Will. “Check with them at around six o’clock today.”
Will nodded. The two trainees lifted Willy carefully onto a gurney and covered him with a white sheet. They headed out of the room and downstairs to put Willy into the coroner’s van waiting outside.
The coroner turned to follow them, but stopped at Willy’s door.
“Sir, excuse me for asking, but aren’t you the Will Graham that put Hannibal Lecter away sometime back? And…killed The Tooth Fairy here only a few years ago?”
Will blinked slowly and heaved a hard sigh. “Yes, that’s me.”
He got that a lot from people working in law enforcement. He might have met this coroner the night Dolarhyde came had he not been being rushed off to the hospital with potentially fatal wounds for the second time in his life.
Will saw a look of genuine sympathy on the coroner’s face once his suspicions had been confirmed. “I’m sorry for your loss, sir. We’ll make this top priority.”
The blonde nodded. “Thank you. I would appreciate that.”
The coroner went downstairs and left the house. Will followed him down and placed the card of the mortuary services on the counter. They’d probably be done before six, but he wasn’t going to call until then. More likely then not, they’d call him and the arrangements would begin to be made.
Will sat at his counter, drinking whatever he had in his liquor cabinet. There wasn’t any whiskey left. Just a bottle of peach schnapps and some drambuie. Both bottles were in front of him. Will chose to take the drambuie first. It wasn’t as sweet.
He sat back and drank straight from the stout bottle, ignoring how ridiculously deadbeat he felt.
A sudden hand on the back of his neck didn’t startle him. He only drank deeper until his eyes filled with tears at the burn of the liquor on his throat.
Will gasped for air and let his head fall forward onto the counter. The hand squeezed gently before disappearing. Hannibal appeared in its absence, sitting next to Will on a barstool in his kitchen. “I hear that drambuie is particularly good when it’s served with club soda and apple juice.”
Will smiled, turning his head on the counter to look at the doctor. “Yeah, it is…”
-“Are you going to drink it all?”
-“Why, do you want some?”
-“I don’t think it’s fair that you get to be the one drunk all the time.”
Will snorted, laughing as he pushed the bottle towards Hannibal. “I didn’t think you were the type who liked being drunk.”
Lecter smiled. “I’m not.” But he lifted the bottle to his lips and drank anyway.
This made Will laugh harder. He buried his face in the crook of his arm and laughed until his sides hurt.
“I think you live to make me unsure of everything I know…” He said softly after his laughter had subsided.
Hannibal fingered the short, wide bottle idly and chuckled. “Really? I always fancied the idea that I lived especially to guide you toward some deep, internal understanding of yourself…But that couldn’t possibly be it.”
Will shook his head. “No…Not in a million years.”
They both laughed then-
And proceeded to pass the bottle back and forth until it was empty.

I’m just something else he tried
The salt that’s left behind,
After tears have dried…

Molly lay flat on one of the two double beds in the room she and Clarice were sharing. The other woman was busy pouring two glasses of whatever was in the minibar for them and Molly was thinking about her son. She wondered about whether or not he would have grown into a handsome young man- like his father. She wondered what it would have been like to see him married or to be grandmother to his children.
They would have been beautiful…
She thought as more tears dripped down the side of her face and onto the coverlet below.
As it was, she wouldn’t be seeing Willy get married or have children…she wouldn’t even really get to say goodbye. Will was probably making arrangements to have him sent back to Oregon. She’d have to call Willy’s grandparents and tell them to expect the casket in a day or so…and maybe start planning the funeral.
Molly looked at the little black pearl she still clutched in her hand and wondered about the terrible luck it brought those who held it...
“Here, Molly…” Clarice held out the glass of fizzy peach-colored liquid. Molly sat up slowly. Her head was light from the alcohol and she’d fall over onto her face if she wasn’t careful. She took the glass and drank. Alcohol poisoning didn’t seem like even a vague threat today.
After all, today was the end of the world…
And tomorrow was…
Tomorrow was the beginning of nothing…

And I suppose that I’ll go on,
After all, it was my life,
And all that I supposed I had has come to be untied…