He has to admit to his mistake before he can fix it and that takes a couple of days. He's put a foot wrong here and there before but never back stepped this far, undoing so much of his work without first enjoying the results of it. But he knows the first time he visits Will in the Baltimore Hospital for the Criminally Insane that he's done the wrong thing, misjudged the situation and the man and while it serves his purpose to have Will punished for his crimes, to leave him to rot would be dull, a waste of untapped potential. There is another ending here which he sees only when Will smiles at him through the bars and it brings him cursing, metaphorically, to his knees,

He goes to Jack Crawford and tells him he can prove Will's innocence, that he's been wracking his brains trying to think of what might exonerate him despite the overwhelming evidence that connects him to the murders. He has been framed, Hannibal says, by a cunning and worthy opponent who might have made just one mistake but it's a costly one. At the time the copy cat slipped the comb into Georgia's chamber, Will was in his hospital bed being monitored by a whole host of machines. If Will slipped his wires to sneak into Georgia's room, the machines would have known about it, even if he turned their alarms to silent. If they can get the readings taken that night of Will's pulse and the oxygen levels in his blood and if they see they're consistent at the time Georgia was being handed the instrument of her murder, they can prove he didn't do it.

Of course those machines weren't interrupted that night. Will didn't leave his room and Hannibal knows it. Now Crawford and the FBI know it.

Jack is relieved, of course he is, but there's a horror there too, Hannibal watches something die inside him and he understands. Jack has practically convicted his best friend of multiple murders he didn't commit, because the same man who killed Georgia must have killed Sutcliffe to have a motive, and the same man who killed Sutcliffe killed the others, they're all sure of that. Will is as innocent as Alana's always claimed he is. Jack's the bad guy here and he knows it.

Hannibal doesn't go to the hospital the day Will is released. He gives Jack time to voice his apologies if he wants to, as if that will change anything. Will already has an image in his mind he linked to that friendship and it's one of ruin and betrayal. There was evidence, yes, and it was utterly damning as Hannibal made certain it would be, but still Jack should have known better, was equally as responsible, and now he has proof that the evidence was planted the friendship that was once strong enough to push Will to the very limits of himself mentally and physically, lies shattered between them.

So who is Will going to turn to now for whatever he's been getting from his relationship with Jack? 

It's no surprise when his doorbell rings early that afternoon. Hannibal hasn't seen a patient since Will was locked up, having no appetite for other people's pathetic woes when his own chosen path felt so rocky. But with Will�s freedom secured, he has started to allow bookings to be made of his time, just not today. And not tomorrow. The house is filled with the aromas of fresh coffee and sweet things baking and when he opens the door to Will standing on the step he knows that all his pains have been worth the effort.

With the illness under control, Will is steadier, more certain, and that is telegraphed in the way he waits for an invitation inside when he hasn�t in the recent past. It's in the way he removes his coat and allows Hannibal to hang it for him. The desperation and fear that's slowly been building has dissipated, the tension has broken, well... at least a part of it. Because there's something else now in place of the stress, something that's aimed directly at Hannibal. He can feel it as surely as a physical blow and struggles not to duck away from it. He leads Will through into the living room and indicates the armchair but Will remains standing so Hannibal does too and waits for him to say whatever it is that's so clearly on his mind.

'Thank you for proving my innocence,' Will murmurs and that isn't it but Hannibal accepts the gratitude.

'You're welcome, Will. It took hardly any effort on my part to find the truth. It must have taken every ounce of you not to become the thing that everyone around you was claiming you were. I had the easy task.'

There's a little smile on Will's face that's frustratingly difficult to interpret. In a way, and just for a second, he feels like the tables have been turned.

'You did what Jack couldn't, or wouldn't, do. You kept looking when he gave up.'

'He still cares for you, Will.'

That smile finally slips and Hannibal's inexplicably glad of it.

'He doesn't care. He used me then felt guilty when he pushed too far. He would have let me rot in that cell just so that he didn't have to look on his mistake day after day.'

'I wouldn't have left you alone there.'

It's not a lie. Despite what he told Dr Du Maurier before he went to see him that first time, he knew the moment his eyes locked with Will's sharp gaze that he didn�t have the ability to walk away, that his feelings for this man run deeper than he could ever have imagined. Will is the only one of his victims who�s still breathing and that says something but it's more than that, more than friendship, more than fascination. At that moment, when they looked at one another through the bars in the cell, Will wasn't a patient, wasn't a thing to be toyed with until Hannibal grew bored of him and ate whichever part of him he hungered for at the time. At that moment, Will was his equal and Hannibal felt something he hadn't felt in a very, very long time. Desire.

He's a celibate man because it suits him to be so. But it hasn't always been that way. The majority of people, even those he finds attractive on a physical level, bore him. When he takes someone to bed it's because they fire all of his senses, because he wants them with his body and his mind. Up until that moment in the hospital he didn't see Will in that fashion. Or maybe he did and couldn't admit it, maybe that's what Bedelia thinks she's seen all along and why she is so concerned about Hannibal's relationship with him.

In this respect alone, he will never take what isn't freely given. He will kill without remorse but he will never rape and right now hurting Will is the last thing he wants even though he knows it�s all he�s been doing for the last few months. No. Will has to come to him freely and willingly and he's surprised by the growing need inside him for him to do so. Hannibal has the patience of a saint when he needs to call on it but standing in his own living room watching this strange man with these new eyes is driving him slowly crazy. He doesn't let it show of course, and he knows that underneath this more confident facade is still the skittish individual he's known for so many months. If Will knew the truth he would never believe that Hannibal could ever have cared for him but he does, so deeply it both thrills and frightens him.

Finally, finally Will stops lazily perusing his paintings and books, walking holes in his carpet, and comes to stand in front of him with purpose in his eyes. And how perfectly bright those eyes are now. As clear as a summer sky.

'If you won't kill me,' he says, and Hannibal finds that he has no idea what perception is behind those words, 'I want you to fuck me.'

Maybe even up until this moment he might have been able to ignore his feelings and snap Will's neck for knowing too much, but not now. He doesn't care how much Will knows, or thinks he knows, because despite it he's still here, still asking for this. Hannibal doesn't think he's ever loved someone so intensely in his entire life as he loves this man right now.

He puts his hands on Will's shoulders, splays his fingers and holds on tight.

'I'm not going to kill you,' he says and with a hint of amusement because if he can still steer Will off that path he's going to try. 'I'm not going to hurt you. I won't fuck you, Will, but I can make love to you.'

He's relieved somewhat to spot a tiny crack in this new armour Will's found for himself. He hasn't grown cold, he hasn't sealed himself up never to be seen again, he's just drawn it like a protective shield around himself and underneath he's the same vulnerable, endlessly fascinating man Hannibal has become somewhat obsessed with. That pleases him.

Will smiles, a genuine smile, and puts his hands flat on Hannibal's chest as his lifts his face and kisses him. Hannibal feels a shiver of pure delight at this bold move, at Will's lips parting against his own, his tongue pushing at his teeth. He opens his mouth and bites down only in the gentlest of ways before sliding his own tongue over Will's, at the same time stepping forward and enfolding Will in his arms. Will's hands fall to his hips, his body presses into Hannibal's and his own excitement is very definitely answered in Will's.

'Bedroom,' he commands, barely giving the words enough space to get out. 'I'm too old for the floor.'

Will laughs, a perfect sound, and steps back as far as Hannibal's willing to let him go. He's the one to take Hannibal's hand.

'Lead the way.'

He doesn't give Will time to change his mind. He kicks the door of his bedroom quietly closed with the heel of his foot and immediately has them back in the same embrace they were enjoying downstairs. Will's hands hover for a moment at his hips but they don't stay there. They roam over his shirt and nimble fingers start to unfasten the buttons in some random sequence until all are done and warm palms settle against smooth alabaster skin. Hannibal allows a rare sound of approval to escape his lips and begins his own unveiling of this precious thing in his arms, being more methodical about the task; opening his shirt, releasing his belt, the buttons of his jeans, breaking the kiss to seal his mouth to Will's neck as he eases the waistband of his underwear down over sharp hips.

When they next break apart they're both almost naked, Hannibal's sturdy but slim body in total contrast to Will's too-thin frame. He can see a hint of his ribs protecting his heart and lungs under skin that's pale in places where he has unexplained scars. His cock's purple tip is wet and Hannibal can't stop himself from collecting a sample on the tips of his fingers, bringing them to his lips and deliberately licking the taste of Will from them. Blue eyes widen but he licks his lips and nothing can prevent the growl that breaks loose from Hannibal's throat at that sight.

'Lie down,' he whispers and Will does as he's told, stepping out from the puddle of his clothing, removing his socks as he goes. Hannibal watches him lie down in the centre of the bed, eyes never leaving him, and he stares for a long minute as Will lies still and exposed for him. Then he ends the torture for both of them and joins him, lying down beside him, half over him, guiding Will's mouth sideways to meet his own. As they kiss, Hannibal moves his hand over Will's neck and throat, thumb drawing a line over his Adam's apple. He pinches one dark nipple and feels the jerk of Will's body against his own.

With glee he pushes himself up to straddle Will's thighs, leaving the wet kiss to bend his mouth to a different task. He bites down gently on the left nipple, and when Will moans with the sensation, he takes it between his front teeth and bites down more sharply, momentarily, before releasing it, letting the blood flow back and lapping at it with his tongue. He moves to the right nipple while Will's still catching his breath, and repeats himself, back and forth, until Will is practically thrashing beneath him, one hand fisting the silk comforter in its pure Egyptian cotton cover.

He keeps Will distracted like this while he reaches for a small bottle in the drawer beside the bed and with one hand gets the lotion onto his fingers. Only when Will is whimpering and scratching at his shoulders with his short fingernails does Hannibal reach back, slide his hand between Will's legs and finds the place where he can slip his fingers inside him. His wrist brushes Will's weeping cock as he moves within the heat of him and he lifts his head to watch as he  starts a slow push into Will's body, three fingers demanding passage. Will slowly relaxes, his muscle giving way, fingers clutching at Hannibal wherever he can get purchase and there's no doubting the moment he surrenders.

Hannibal wants to draw this out more than anything but it has been a while and the urge to sheath himself is something he can't ignore. He pulls out his fingers just a little more roughly than he put them in.

'Lift your legs to my shoulders,' he says and again Will obeys without hesitation. Looming over him, bending him double, Hannibal presses into him, splitting him open, breaching and relentlessly moving forward until he's all the way in. The heat and the pressure are incredible. Will's fingers gripping his arms urge him into a steady rhythm, pulling back and pushing in, again and again, listening to the sounds of worship Will makes, his whole body on fire with want and desire. He can keep this up for hours, has done in the past, has left his lovers weeping and begging. But he doesn't want this first time to be like that. He wants Will to stay, wants him for his own, to keep him here, so he shifts his weight, wraps his hand around Will's cock and knows it won't take more than that. Will comes beautifully, head thrown back, hips cantered up pressing his ass onto Hannibal's cock, sobbing once.

Hannibal's orgasm has been building slowly but at the sight of Will utterly undone it surges forward suddenly and without warning, wrenching a rare cry from his throat and everything that he is from his cock. He can feel himself pulsing deep inside Will's body and stays there, panting softly. When he finally softens and slips free, he rolls onto his side leaving one arm possessively lying across Will's stomach as Will's legs flop down to the wrecked comforter bunched and wrinkled beneath him and he turns his head, eyes blown, smile as easy as Hannibal's ever seen it.

'Thank you,' he murmurs and Hannibal shakes his head.

'There�s no need to thank me. I've been thinking about dong that with you for a while now.' It's partly a lie but on the grand scale of lies it isn't an important one. He turns on to his side as he tries to remember how to do this next part but looking at the man he's chosen to share his bed he's struck suddenly by all the reasons he has for doing so. He lifts his arm and pushes his fingers through Will's thick, dark, sweat-damp hair. 'You're such a beautiful man,' he breathes, the truth of his own words stunning him. Will rolls his eyes, no clue of the impact he's had this evening, the impact he's still having on a heart presumed dead so many years ago. 'I'm aware it's not thought of as a compliment by most men but I'm serious. You fascinate me on so many levels. You have more worth in you than in all those people society considers priceless. Don't ever think otherwise, don't ever let others tell you any different.'

Hannibal can see the embarrassment in his eyes but for a self-effacing man like Will it's good to see some little pride there too.

'I think you might be just slightly biased,' he says, and Hannibal shrugs. No denying that after what they�ve just done. 'But it's good to hear someone say it. It's good to finally find someone who doesn't treat me like a freak, or like fine china.'

Hannibal laughs softly, settles his arm back around Will's waist as he too moves onto his side, head cushioned on one arm, his arm reaching hesitantly for his bed mate. His finger tips touch Hannibal's chest, stroke the smooth skin over his sternum cautiously as if it any moment he's going to be told he isn't allowed to touch. Hannibal will do no such thing. He likes it. Most physical gestures he makes for show, to fit in with society, those simple things that people do that are so easy to mimic so no one looks beyond the facade. Hand-shakes, those stupid air kisses, holding a child's hand as she lies in a hospital bed. It's all part of the human front he presents daily but not this. Will has always shied from physical contact himself, getting progressively more insular as the illness took hold. He's given himself to Hannibal so completely today, it's just going to take time for him to accept he's more than welcome.

'Do you want me to leave?' he whispers, like he's asking if Hannibal would like a drink, and Hannibal frowns and shakes his head.

'No, Will. I want you to stay. Spend the day and the night and on Wednesday we will pick up your dogs from Alana and take you home. Does that sound agreeable?'

Will nods, 'Yes,' and closes his eyes, asleep just minutes later.

Hannibal watches for a while, watches the lines smooth, long eyelashes flicker, but no nightmares seem to come to disturb his rest. Eventually Hannibal too sleeps, with someone else in his bed for the first time in so many years.