Chapter Text
Leveling his aging Leica at the spectacular view below, Will snapped a picture.
He hadn’t been totally sold on Athens when they first arrived, but after today he was pretty sure he could handle it; it was the birthplace of democracy, after all.
The sun was just beginning to set over the low mountains, causing the marble of the Propylaea to glow a rich orange, as if the entire structure were molten. Will was standing on the huge slippery steps leading up to the main entrance of the Acropolis, winding his camera and grinning. The hot air from the city was mixing with brisk ocean breezes blowing in from the Aegean, rustling the curls sticking out from under his now excessively sun and sweat bleached Baltimore Orioles hat. When they’d first arrived at the foot of the hill earlier that afternoon, the heat had been stifling and the wind non-existent, but Will had insisted they carry on and now, here they were, the view spectacular as Trip Advisor had foretold.
Will took a deep breath. The evening air was glorious.
An older English woman was stepping up the steps past where Will was standing, wobbling as she did so with her backpack and camera. She slipped as she stepped up near him, and flung out an arm, grabbing onto Will’s wrist.
“Whoops,” Will said, taking her hand in his and allowing his camera to rest on its neck strap. He pulled her upright, smiling at her as he did so.
“Oh, I’m sorry dear, it’s these damn steps, you know! They’ll be the death of me I swear!” she withdrew her hand politely and gave him a grateful grin in return.
“It’s alright,” Will said, “I didn’t make it up here unscathed either.” He proffered his left leg and the visible scrape along the shin.
The woman laughed and thanked him again before carrying on up the steps.
She hadn’t looked at him twice, and he realized belatedly he had even removed his sunglasses to look through the camera’s viewfinder. His face was more or less uncovered, and she most certainly hadn’t recognized him.
Of course, it wasn’t like her lack of recognition was unintentional; Will looked like a tourist. He was one, in a manner of speaking. In his multi-pocket beige cargo shorts, high top converse sneakers, faded Grateful Dead shirt and ball cap, he looked every bit an American on holiday in Greece. Which he was.
More or less.
Will took his glasses off his hat and replaced them over his eyes, just in case, and turned to look up the steps. The Propylaea and certainly the entire acropolis was still full of people, all leaning and bending at odd angles to take photos. There were selfie sticks galore, groups of people laughing and trying to squeeze together. There were a few lone photographers, squinting into the sun. With all the stragglers, it took Will a few extra moments to locate the figure he was seeking.
When he saw him, a slight smile tugged at his lips. The figure was not, like everyone else, looking at the sunset. He was standing way up near the top of the steps and slightly to the side, staring into the empty space of walls on the interior of the structure itself.
It took a few minutes of awkward clambering among groups of tourists for Will to finally reach the top step, where the figure he was approaching was still facing away from him, staring at the blank walls.
Will knew that at that moment, if Jack Crawford were to walk up the steps of the acropolis, he wouldn’t look twice at the middle aged man who appeared to be staring off into space. In his simple black cotton t-shirt, perfectly fitted dark wash blue jeans on long graceful legs, and clubmaster sunglasses, the man was a bizarre take on the sharp, be-suited silhouette he’d cut all those years ago in Baltimore. Even his hair, now tugged back into a short messy ponytail, was vastly different from the ruthlessly curated style it had been.
His hands were in his pockets, head tilted slightly to the side in contemplation.
It was funny, Will thought. While Jack or even Alana maybe wouldn’t recognize him in this dressed down state, Will knew that he absolutely would. To Will, there was some common underlying shape to the pensive figure, some structure he would always be unable to hide from the world. To Will, it was like throwing a tarp over a car: the concealed shape that presented itself belied the hidden object beneath.
In a brief flare of playfulness, Will fished through his pocket and withdrew the car keys, holding it just so it peeked between his knuckles. He approached the exposed back slowly and on silent feet. Taking a moment to slip into character, he affected a coarse accent and jabbed the key ever so lightly into the man’s spine.
“Your money or your life, pappos.”
All the entire production did was garner a sigh, and Hannibal shifted his weight from one leg to the other.
“Did you get the photos you wanted?” he said, not looking back at Will, who was grinning as he pocketed the keys.
“Really? Nothing?” Will said, ignoring Hannibal’s question. He stepped up beside him and shouldered lightly into Hannibal in a vague friendly greeting.
“I think you’ll find I am quite difficult to sneak up on. And that you are not particularly good at sneaking.” Hannibal glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, “I didn’t give you the keys so you could extort money from people.”
“No, you gave me the keys because they ruined the line of your fancy jeans. And because I have lots of pockets.”
“Yes,” Hannibal gave a not so subtle dismissive look down at Will’s many-pocketed shorts, “You certainly do.” When he looked back up, Will caught the brief moment of amused crinkling at the side of Hannibal’s dark eyes, before they swept away back up to the bare stone walls.
Will looked up at the wall, and then he too gave the other man a side-eye glance.
“What…are we looking at?”
Hannibal smirked.
“We are looking at a void. Or rather, the place built to harbor something that is no longer there.”
“I see. And why are we doing this?” Will asked.
“These alcoves were built to hang paintings.” Hannibal ignored Will, “While the alcoves themselves have stood the ravages of time, the paintings did not. They were likely on wood, and wood does not last, certainly not in a climate like this.”
“Paintings of what?” Will said, half expecting his question to go unanswered and steamrollered with yet more facts, as had been occurring all day.
Hannibal looked thoughtful. “Well, considering the acropolis is dedicated to Athena, I’d imagine of the goddess in her various incarnations. But of course we will never really know. These paintings exist en potentia, doomed for eternity to have existed and to exist but never to have their nature known.”
Will gave Hannibal a look.
“Alluding to something, are you?”
“Why, Will?” Hannibal smiled genuinely then, only briefly, and Will caught a glimpse of his sharp teeth before they slipped away behind his delicate lips, “What could I be alluding to?”
Will decided to let that one slide, looking back up into the open space.
“Only Athena? That’s a bit…monotonous.”
“Or Poseidon, with whom she battled to become the patron deity of the city. Possibly Zeus, of course. Theseus, perhaps. Perhaps Heracles.” Hannibal seemed to think to himself again, before regarding Will plainly. “Have you ever heard of the legend of Cecrops, Will?”
Will, who didn’t like his name being used in public despite its commonality, and certainly not by Hannibal, raised one eyebrow.
“What do you think?” he said dryly.
“Cecrops was the half-snake first king of Athens; his upper body that of a man, his lower half of an enormous serpent. Legend tells that he sprung from the very stones of the ancient acropolis, like a snake emerges from its den in spring. All true Athenians were said to have descended from him, their lineage as trueborn citizens indisputable. He was cthonos; born from the earth, not of man, and therefore divine in nature, as were all Athenian citizens.”
Will snorted. “The more and more I hear about the ancient Greeks, the more I feel they needed something to do besides make up ridiculous stories.”
“Well, they certainly exceeded at war.” Hannibal turned away from the wall then, finally facing the spectacular sunset. “Are you ready to go? I wish to purchase a tuna for dinner before the markets close.”
“Ya, I got my photos. And it’s not like the acropolis is going anywhere.”
“Yes, I believe the last two thousand odd years would be inclined to agree with you.” Hannibal sniffed vaguely, still surveying the city below.
Will knew that if one were to glance at Hannibal then without any prior knowledge of the man, they might believe he was simply enjoying the view. But Will saw the truth of that relaxed, tanned visage now, as clear as anything; it was a predatory face, surveying his hunting territory like a leopard on the Serengeti. Everything from the set of his square jaw to the quick, calculating glimmer in his melted bronze eyes was that of creature of death.
It was terrifying to behold, as much as it was exhilarating.
Will looked away. He’d seen that face enough, and didn’t need to look to imagine it’s horrible beauty.
The walk down the steps of the acropolis was easier than the ascent, Will and Hannibal weaving through throngs of tourists as they went. Hannibal took long, purposeful strides as he always did, and Will was left ducking and weaving to keep up. He found himself smirking darkly at the thought; if that wasn’t a euphemism for their entire relationship, he didn’t know what was.
About halfway down, Will found himself turning when he heard a woman’s delighted laugh. He caught sight of two girls, in their mid-twenties or so, trying to take a photo of themselves and the sunset. They were both strikingly gorgeous, one with blonde hair in a loose braid, the other with long wavy dark hair, blowing in the gentle breeze. They were in light, delicate summer clothes, and Will realized he was staring.
One of the girls caught his eye, and before he could jerk his head away and pretend he hadn’t noticed them, she waved at him and smiled a wide smile.
“Hello there!” she said in accented English, still waving, “Could you take us a picture? We cannot get a good one.”
Will glanced around for Hannibal, and immediately felt like an idiot for doing so. He was a grown ass man, he didn’t need Hannibal’s permission to talk to strangers.
“Ya, of course.” Will said, stepping over a large crack in the marble to join them.
Up close, they were even prettier. The blonde one had freckles across her nose and cheeks, and the brunette’s eyes were the loveliest hazel.
“You are from America?” the blonde girl asked, handing him her cellphone. It was in a pink and lime green case.
“Uh,” Will immediately floundered trying to remember his current identity’s backstory, “No. Toronto. Canada. Where, uh, where are you girls from?” He raised the phone, squinting at the screen over his sunglasses.
“We are from Hamburg. Have you been there?” the brunette was smiling at Will hugely and very sweetly, and he couldn’t help returning it, smiling so wide the tight scar tissue in his cheek pulled slightly.
Will snapped a few pictures before replying, hoping to give them a few good ones to choose from. They were so ridiculously attractive, it was unlikely they would take a bad photo anyway.
”No, I’ve only ever been to Berlin and that was…uh, a while ago.”
Actually, it was five months ago. And it hadn’t exactly been a vacation; the highlight of the trip had been when Hannibal performed a tracheotomy with a fountain pen on the accountant who had tried to funnel some of Hannibal’s secreted funds. They killed him in his office in the middle of the afternoon, and after they’d gone out a window to escape detection. It had been a tiring day.
“Hamburg is better.” The blonde one said, taking back her cell phone. Will found himself focusing on the little moles on her tanned arm as she reached, and he had to yet again wrench his eyes away.
“Making friends, I see.”
Will took two extremely fast steps back, looking guiltily over his shoulder at Hannibal, who was standing looking vaguely amused on a step above.
In his own head, he treacherously tore a strip off himself.
Why the fuck am I acting like a dog eating food off the counter?
“Uh, ya.” Will said, trying to recover and ignore the pink flush on his cheeks, “these girls are from Hamburg.”
"Aus Hamburg? Habt ihr Namen, Mädchen aus Hamburg?" Hannibal replied, ignoring Will and smiling that beguilingly charming smile that Will knew lured people in like sharks to chum.
Both girls laughed, and the blonde girl replied “Ja! Das ist Lena und mein Name ist Hanna.”
Will felt his face getting hotter, and his humiliation only grew when Hannibal nodded to him.
“Stuart, allow me to introduce Hanna and Lena.” It was rare indeed that Hannibal addressed him using his alias, but when he did it always seemed vaguely condescending. This time…it was less vague.
“Uh…sorry I... didn’t ask.” Will said lamely, before glowering at Hannibal’s stoic figure.
“It’s okay! We didn’t ask you either. Hello, Stuart. What is his name?” The brunette’s eyes were glittering playfully as she glanced meaningfully at Hannibal, and Will realized he had failed yet again.
“Oh. That’s Theo. He’s uh…”
"Ich komme aus Essen.” Hannibal cut in smoothly, “Was führt euch nach Athen, natürlich angenommen es ist nicht das zum Narren halten von amerikanischen Touristen?"
“Oh, we weren’t trying to make a fool of you!” The brunette, Lena, apparently took pity on Will, and gave him an apologetic grimace, “Just teasing maybe a bit.”
Will shot Hannibal another dark look before looking back to the girls. He didn’t want to know what Hannibal had said, but he knew it was safe assuming it was probably something patently ‘Hannibal-esque.’
“I spend all day with him, I’m used to it.” Will said. The girls were both smiling at him in genuine friendliness, and he felt his disgruntled embarrassment evaporating. They really were very pretty.
“Would you girls, uh… like to join us for dinner?” Will asked, and grinned back.
And then his grin froze slightly and his eidetic memory did what it did best; “It’s always nice to have an old friend for dinner.”
Will looked over his shoulder at Hannibal again, feeling suddenly both sheepish and full of dread.
Hannibal was just staring, face impassive if not vaguely entertained, head tilted ever so slightly. He was considering Will, like a scientist looking through Plexiglas at a rat in a maze. It was a look Will knew very well, and he still didn’t know if he should be expecting an electric shock or cheese.
“That’s alright with you, right, Theo?”
Hannibal inclined his head in benevolent assent. His hair, now so grey after his incarceration, fluttered in the wind where is wasn’t bound back.
“Of course. I defer to you.”
Will seethed quietly. This was a horrible idea, but now it was out there.
“We don’t want to impose!” Lena said, waving her hand dismissively.
“It’s not really an imposition. Theo is an amazing cook, and he does love putting on a production.” Will returned Hannibal’s blank expression with an overly earnest one, hoping it chafed at least a bit, “He wanted to do ceviche tonight, I believe.”
Hannibal’s lips twisted slightly, in what could perhaps have been a smirk.
“If I am an amazing anything, it is a chef not cook. And if we are having guests, I am more likely to make…oh, perhaps that lovely tenderloin I procured last week. It is aged to perfection now, I should think.”
Procured being the operative word in that sentence, Will thought darkly.
Lena and Hanna looked at each other, whispering in fast German that sounded more or less like gibberish to Will. He found himself looking back at Hannibal, who was still wearing his small crocodile’s smile…it wasn’t a fully-fledged crocodile smile yet…more of a hatchling crocodile than a full adult.
“We would love to come for dinner, if it’s alright.” Hanna looped her arm through Lena’s, and gave both Will and Hannibal a smile so dazzling it glittered.
“Do we have time to go back to our hotel to change? We have been out all day and we probably smell like it.” Lena laughed and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear.
Will felt Hannibal step down onto the step beside him, but he made himself not look at him. He could feel the relative warmth radiate from Hannibal’s shoulder onto his.
“While I assure you that you smell only delightful, you have more than enough time to freshen up. We are staying at a condo near the Piraeus, you could come by around eight. That leaves more than enough time for me to get everything prepared.” Hannibal spoke with the usual smooth assurance that made it almost impossible to disagree with him, or to even consider it as a possibility.
“Ya, that sounds okay.” Lena the brunette said, “We’ll bring wine, of course.”
“Das wäre wunderbar.” Hannibal replied sweetly.
“Do…you guys have a ride? We could drive you to your hotel or-“ Will looked from one girl to the other.
“Oh, we have a rental car. We get around well, don’t worry.” Hanna scoffed mildly.
“Uh…ok. Well…” Will began to rummage in his pockets, “I’ll write the address down so you can find it.”
With a delicate flick of his wrist, Hannibal extended a small square of paper with the address of their condo written on it, in Hannibal’s gorgeous flowing cursive. Will had no idea where it had come from.
“Eight o’clock.” Hannibal said, and treated the girls to a brief flash of tooth in his smile, fleeting yet so very inviting.
“See you then!” The girls waved and turned away to descend the steps, laughing quietly and speaking to each other quietly in German.
Will watched them go for a few moments, dumbfounded and internally cursing himself.
“That was an inspired decision, Will.” Hannibal said conversationally.
“No. It was stupid.” Will muttered, not looking at the other man as he too began the final descent.
“Perhaps. But it gives me a chance to prepare a meal for someone other than you and I, which while probably not your intended purpose, I appreciate nonetheless.”
“I don’t want to hurt them. You can’t hurt them. I just…they seemed nice, and we’re sorely lacking company, okay?” Will shot Hannibal a look.
As he expected, Hannibal was just looking mildly amused and disinterested in Will’s explanation.
“Hey.” Will stopped, and turned abruptly, standing on the step directly below Hannibal and in front of him, “Promise me. Don’t hurt anyone. I invited them over; they’re blameless.”
They were standing very close together, Hannibal’s usual three or so inches over Will exaggerated to seven or eight from their relative positions. Will was looking up into his face, jaw set.
Hannibal bent ever so slightly, so their faces were even closer.
“I’ve no design on those young women, Will, nefarious or otherwise. Perhaps, deep in your mind, you do?” One of his pale eyebrows raised in seemingly innocent query.
“I don’t.” Will hissed.
Hannibal just smiled, but didn’t put any more space between them. Their faces were about ten inches apart, and Will felt what could have been breeze or could have been Hannibal’s breath ghost across his lips and cheeks.
This was one of those moments. One of those moments they kept having, where Will realized that some…physical gesture, be it a kiss or not, was not entirely out of the question. Of course, it was out of the question for Will, and Hannibal never…did…anything, but the look on his face always made Will feel as though he was waiting. Waiting for Will to close the gap.
Or, maybe, he wasn’t. Maybe he was just doing his best to make Will uncomfortable, which he always succeeded in doing. He certainly was now, and Will turned abruptly away down the steps, trying to hide his pink cheeks from the other man. It wouldn’t work, but it made him feel slightly more in control.