I know

Title: I Know
Author: Simarillion
Rating: R (might become NC-17 later on)
Pairing: Hannibal Lecter/Will Graham
Beta: the incredible Elfin
Disclaimer: All of the characters used in this story don't belong to but are creations of the amazing imagination of Thomas Harris and were embodied by Anthony Hopkins and Edward Norton. I don't make any money with this but I am enjoying this little trip to the Caribbean with them.
The quotes and the chapter titles are taken from songs by Placebo. They aren't mine either!
Notes: The rating is not only because of the sexual content. There might come up some scenes that contain gore and violence.
Oh, and for those who haven't noticed so far ... this is a SLASH story, so there will be m/m action!

Chapter One

“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. Faces empty, 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 later 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 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 aing ing 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
harbouring. 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 spent balming wh.
h.

Inside the kitchen the coffee was finished and he took his clean mug out of the sink, filling it. The
caffeine travelling through his veins woke his whole body up, spending 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 hi sunglasses.

Now Will was good and ready to go. He closed and looked 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.”