In Hannibal's dreams, he and Will are walking together down the center aisle of the night-hushed, candle-dim chapel in Palermo. They stop when they come to the mosaic of death laid in the floor, and stand on top of that memento mori, that reminder of the pervasive beauty of death, facing each other.
"Churches are wombs," Hannibal muses quietly, gazing up at the dome high above them, and then looking back down at Will. "Places of transformation. Of development. Developing our souls until we again enter the world, changed."
He looks down the aisle, to the altar, and sees behind it not a crucifix, but himself, arms bound to a rod, hanging by a noose around his neck, a scene that Will had put in motion what seems like forever ago, when he sent the orderly to kill him. Hannibal smiles and looks back at Will, who is also turning his head, moving his gaze from that tableau back to the man standing before him. Hannibal's smile deepens, and he slowly begins to unbutton the white shirt he is wearing, his eyes never leaving Will's. When his chest is bare, he digs his fingers into the center of his chest. Blood begins to trickle, then pour out as his fingertips tore their way through flesh, and with a steady pull his chest opens up, ribs spreading outwards like the doors of a reliquary, exposing his chest cavity to Will. It is filled with flowers, the scent heady and sweet. Will watches, his expression curious. He looks up at Hannibal with a question in his eyes.
"Yes, Will," Hannibal answers, his words almost a whisper.
Will reaches into the flowers, and from them slowly extracts Hannibal's heart, still beating within Will's hands. He lifts it reverently to his mouth, and bites into it, blood welling up and spilling over his fingers. He looks up again at Hannibal, and smiles with his bloodied mouth. Hannibal smiles back.
Then Will begins to gasp, and Hannibal, alarmed, reaches out to him...
But the dream fades, leaving Hannibal on the plane, and Will breathing a little hard next to him.
"Are you all right?" he murmurs, looking his lover over with some concern.
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Date: 2016-02-29 07:07 pm (UTC)"Churches are wombs," Hannibal muses quietly, gazing up at the dome high above them, and then looking back down at Will. "Places of transformation. Of development. Developing our souls until we again enter the world, changed."
He looks down the aisle, to the altar, and sees behind it not a crucifix, but himself, arms bound to a rod, hanging by a noose around his neck, a scene that Will had put in motion what seems like forever ago, when he sent the orderly to kill him. Hannibal smiles and looks back at Will, who is also turning his head, moving his gaze from that tableau back to the man standing before him. Hannibal's smile deepens, and he slowly begins to unbutton the white shirt he is wearing, his eyes never leaving Will's. When his chest is bare, he digs his fingers into the center of his chest. Blood begins to trickle, then pour out as his fingertips tore their way through flesh, and with a steady pull his chest opens up, ribs spreading outwards like the doors of a reliquary, exposing his chest cavity to Will. It is filled with flowers, the scent heady and sweet. Will watches, his expression curious. He looks up at Hannibal with a question in his eyes.
"Yes, Will," Hannibal answers, his words almost a whisper.
Will reaches into the flowers, and from them slowly extracts Hannibal's heart, still beating within Will's hands. He lifts it reverently to his mouth, and bites into it, blood welling up and spilling over his fingers. He looks up again at Hannibal, and smiles with his bloodied mouth. Hannibal smiles back.
Then Will begins to gasp, and Hannibal, alarmed, reaches out to him...
But the dream fades, leaving Hannibal on the plane, and Will breathing a little hard next to him.
"Are you all right?" he murmurs, looking his lover over with some concern.