Beneath Skin - Baeba - Hannibal (TV) [Archive of Our Own] (2024)

It was his last chance.

Will pushed his body up, the world was spinning all around him, the last bit of his energies slowly draining from his body, forcefully dragging himself through the mud. The storm above was raging, relentless raindrops cutting painfully against his skin highlighting the numerous wounds covering his body, the signs of abuse that were inevitably going to scar, never allowing Will the blissfulness to forget.

Nothing mattered anymore, he was too close to victory to care about his potential future, the way he’d work through his trauma, learning to live with the scars of his abuser. Everything fell secondary to this very moment as he desperately kept chasing the light that was sure to grant his freedom, once Will finally reached the bush he extended his fingers in the soil, distantly hearing the steps of his enemy reaching for him, his hand locked around the target, heart racing painfully, threatening to carve a hole in his chest. It was there, it was there, it was not the gun, it—

Will heard a click behind him through the heavy rain, the muzzle of the gun pressed against the back of his head.

Frozen like a deer in the headlights, Will’s hand tightened painfully around the shears handles in response to the danger, his knuckles turning white with the strain, body shaking with the fatigue of the prior battle, spasming as a result of the ongoing adrenaline yet paralysed from the fear of his captor’s proximity. His captor’s advantage.

Tommy had gotten to him. Tommy was right there.

No. No no no no.

“End of the line Will”

There came the filth Hannibal had been trying to protect him from, Tommy’s words echoed and clattered inside the walls of his skull like a rattle

His voice was pure poison when it reached him. Will went impossibly rigid, the sound of his name coming from his abuser’s lips sent shocks of disgust licking his spine, waves of nausea utterly engulfed him, stomach tightening as he could feel a phantom touch graze every inch of his skin, invasive, the ghost of a foggy forgotten memory his brain found too dreadful to keep, storing it away where it would never be uncovered. Maybe Tommy called his name during one of his many violations. Will didn’t want to remember.

“I know what you’re thinking” Tommy snarled, his breath was laboured, strenuous due his own exhaustion, but even more than the tiredness, his tone was indomitably wrathful, a fervent anger which had dominated his soul for weeks now coming to its climax, it pushed him to persevere, to the extremes one’s body could never sustain. Will felt it so powerfully, absorbing every last bit of Tommy’s sick obsession, wearing it like loose skin, rotting away on the inside of it.

Will barely shifted, it caused Tommy to press the muzzle against his head harder, pushing the agent’s neck forward.

“And it won’t work, you’ll be dead before you can even turn around, so drop that f*cking thing, be a good boy and listen to me” he growled, his voice filled with mockery to the point Will could feel the smug smirk in his face without the need of his sight. The gun slowly slid down to push against the back of his neck, teasingly, ridiculing Will with the slowness and patience of a man who knew victory was his.

But it wasn’t over.

Will hissed under his breath, his mind going overdrive, a whirlwind of thoughts screaming in his brain, painfully rattling against his cranium, begging him to turn around stab Tommy with the shears regardless of the outcome, to die in a pool of mud and blood with him, the twisted comfort of knowing he wouldn’t have submitted to a pig without a fight. His heart accelerated at the premise of the idea, the preamble of a motion, preparing himself to strike—

“Go ahead pendejo, test your luck and turn around, I’d love to see you try and save your papi once I’ve pulled the trigger and left you to bleed out. I may keep you both alive if you comply, but if you force me to shoot you, well…” Tommy smiled, inching closer so that he was next to Will’s ear, the agent immobilised.

“He’ll be alone with me”

The young man felt his chest sink, the horrifying realisation coming down on him, picturing Hannibal still stuck inside their now tainted house, bleeding to what was sure to be a slow and torturous death, additionally having to face Tommy right after their long absence, proudly proclaiming how his husband had died by his hand. Imagining the colour drain from Hannibal’s face, the things Tommy could do to him, the fact Will wouldn’t be there to stop him—

“No…” Will hiccuped, throat rough and scratched, painstakingly releasing the shears from his grasp, slowly raising his hands up in a shameful sign of defeat, the taste of blood in his mouth somehow amplified, the surrender making it all too bitter as time seemed to slow down once his only latch onto a potential victory was lost. He couldn’t face Tommy, but his looming presence behind was enough to make him shiver, any fight left in Will began to dissolve, exhaustion taking over and adrenaline running out, the once hopeful light of the shears now dull under the rain, soaked with dirt and sweat from his palm.

“I’ll do as you say, leave Hannibal out of this. It’s me you want, not him”

The agent steadied his broken voice best as he could, yet Tommy was just so amused to hear him struggle that Will could feel the vibrations coming off of his former captor, waves of a sickening type of pleasure engulfing Will, forcing him to take every last piece of his deviated mind. He wouldn’t want me any other way if not forced.

“That’s good, you’re so good when you want to be…” Tommy whispered content, the filthy hand that wasn’t holding the gun came to clutch Will’s shoulder as he slowly kneeled behind him, closer than before, Will grew mortified as he could feel his captor’s chest press against his back, rough fingers sliding up to his face, brushing the edges of his lips.

“What a poor f*cking thing you are, such a shame I’ll have to smudge your pretty little head. This wouldn’t have happened if you just did what I said, if you just obeyed me”

The sickness of it all was making Will dizzy, fear mending with pain to the point where each became undistinguishable from the other, willing his body to remain as still as possible for self preservation, restraining the urge to bite Tommy’s digits off, a silent sob caught in his throat. The hand torturously slid from his lips to his neck, a tight clutch on his jaw, his thumb purposefully digging against the hickey behind his ear, before pushing him back against the hardness of the weapon.

“Que sueñes con los angelitos” Tommy purred against him, what happened next far too quick to predict before Tommy was heavily striking Will’s skull with the girth of the gun, the impact sending the agent against the ground, instantly knocking him out.

———————

Will woke up slumped against the couch, his clothes all wrinkled and still dirty with blood and mud, his neck craned towards the floor. The moment he began to get the slightest grasp on his consciousness, slowly coming to terms with his reality, he was overwhelmed with an unbearable stinging ache, an heated pain pounding into the right side of his head, pulsating, sending full shivers down his spine. It came all at once and it got Will nearly stumbling off the couch, urgently pushing his torso up he cupped his face in his hands, breathing heavily, clueless on what to do with all this pain, unable to escape it.

“f*ck f*ck f*ck…” he muttered, shutting his eyes tightly, seeing flashes of white behind the eyelids, synchronising with each pulse of his head. Everything else was merely in the background, strictly focusing on his own punishing headache, he only registered a few moments later a hand touching his ankle. Gasping he retrieved his leg, knee pushed nearly against his chest and stared wide eyed ahead, Tommy sitting at the end of the couch, that unmistakable mocking smirk stripping him away of all his forts.

Will wanted to scream, shriek until his vocal chords teared under the pressure, until Tommy knocked him out again so he wouldn’t have to deal with being conscious next to him, but he swallowed instead, Adam’s apple bobbing slightly with the strain of a pointless gobbling, no actual saliva to gulp down in his dry mouth. Will forced himself to meet Tommy’s gaze, through the incessant pain threatening to burst his skull open.

In a moment came lucidity, a sudden flash of coherent thoughts, his blood going cold with a full awareness he had previously ignored.

“Where’s Hannibal?”

No answer came, only that sickening smile, ridiculing Will, shaming him in his poor cluelessness. There was almost an element of pity to it, he could normally read Tommy like an open book, but he didn’t seem to be able to do much right now except panicking. He was worn out and useless, just the way his captor wanted him to be.

“Answer me” he snarled, worry and anger clouding his vision, his rationality, his self preservation, “Where is Hannibal? What did you do to him?”

It didn’t matter, it wasn’t even close to any form of intimidation as Tommy chuckled under his breath, that sickening sound echoing in Will’s mind. Shaking his head he stopped himself from going into hyperventilation, exhaling softly, his body couldn’t seem to stop spasming despite his best efforts to be motionless. Tommy still didn’t answer, tilting his head ever so slightly to the left, almost as if he were wordlessly asking him “What do you think?” like he’d ask a child who couldn’t comprehend speech quite yet, and Will felt his chest sink, just the premise of a realisation.

No.

“You said… you said that if I surrendered…”

“Now…” Tommy stopped him immediately, his eyes softening ever so slightly, the patience of a tone one would use to explain the easiest concepts to the dumbest of people, taking them apart piece by piece to make them comprehensible

“I said I might keep him alive, I didn’t say he’d still be here with us, did I?”

In that moment his surroundings dissolved around him, the only sound he could hear was his own heart, information much to heavy for his fevered brain to process, the floor, walls and ceilings all melted. Will knew he couldn’t keep doing this anymore, enough with the fighting back, desperately trying to survive for a life that had been robbed from him the moment he ended in that truck. The flood broke entirely and he openly sobbed for the first time in weeks, hands cupping his face, the urge to bite his palm until it bled, run and slam his head into the nearest sharp angle he could find, just be free from this torture. Tommy had taken Hannibal away, God knows where, he’d probably never see him again. This was it.

His captor inched closer, Will could feel the weight shift on the couch mattress, could feel his fingers wrapping around his wrist and taking away the hand, leaving his face in plain sight and vulnerable, not conceding him even the slightest defence from his predatory eyes, Will’s own were red, blood vessels popped, cheekbones stained with the tears he had been trying to resist for longer than he could remember.

“What do you want from me?” It was a whisper, not even a plead anymore, only resignation, “What else can I give you? I don’t have anything else, I don’t…” Tommy’s grip on his wrist tightened, Will ignored the last shreds of his instincts telling him to fight back, and a low unpleasant weight set on his abdomen.

“You have taken more from me than you can ever f*cking imagine, I won’t let you go until you’ll become so empty I’ll be repelled just by looking at you… then, I’ll finally stop thinking about you”

Tommy wanted to get beneath his skin as he spat those words out with strain, it sounded like a confession, the waves of emotions coming off his captor were erratic, wrong, feelings that went beyond obsession, beyond perversion, to the point Will wasn’t able to empathise with him like he used to. His emotions were chaotic, not a pattern to follow, to reconstruct, only an incoherent mess of desires; I want I need I want I need I want want want—

Will drowned in it until he couldn’t breathe. Whatever he had managed to trigger inside Tommy, it grew to the point where neither of them could truly understand what his aim was, going beyond anything the agent had ever felt from any of the sick minds he had encountered and wore the masks of all these years. Hannibal too had obsessions, had perversions, but not like this. God, never like this.

“I can’t help you” he exhaled, fear nearly turning into pity once he realised just how utterly caged Tommy was in his own head, his wrist began to bruise under his iron grip. Wrong answer.

“Help?” Tommy asked, incredulous, on the edge of something dangerous, Will kept pressing, playing this Russian’s Roulette until the bullet hit, knowing he had nothing left to lose. “You think I want help from you?”

“You want something from me to stop feeling like—“ Tommy’s other hand flew to wrap around his neck, shushing him before he could continue, he pushed the agent down on his back against the couch and climbed on on top of him in one swift move, knee purposely pressed against his crotch, eliciting shivers of pleasure and pain. Will groaned, keeping his breathing under control, scarcely getting air in his lungs, forced to watch Tommy’s eyes drink in his sight with anger.

“Think you’re so f*cking smart, don’t you? Let me enlighten you, the only thing I want now, more than anything, is for you to be left with nothing”

“I already am” Mouth agape to breathe, Will briefly smiled from desperation, his hand coming to clutch Tommy’s wrist, it was nothing less than hysterical. “You’ve taken him away from me, he’s all I had, nothing you’ll do to me will amount to his loss”

Tommy stared at him wide eyed, clearly taken aback from his answer, pressing back down the grip on his neck to punish his insolence. Will closed his eyes tight and sobbed from the pain, his world fading, feeling hands that weren’t actually there travel everywhere around his body, the ghost of previous violations making themselves known.

“You’ll never…” it was a last resistance, it felt so pathetic.

How can I still talk?

“…Break me to the point I’ll forget him.”

Tommy growled, legs bracketing Will’s hips, his hands left his prey’s neck and slid down to unbutton his trousers, zipper quickly coming undone, sounds that were too familiar yet forgotten. Will’s wrists were free, his chest jumping from the lack of air, feeling lightheaded; despite the unrestrained limbs he was unable to fight his abuser back, laying limp as a doll. There was rustling of fabric and he suddenly felt his legs very cold to the air, bare skin of his lower body now exposed after his clothing was removed from him before he became aware. Will stared blankly at the ceiling and threw one arm on his face, covering his eyes, hiding his mortified tears.

But despite his clear advantage, Tommy’s movements were desperate and uncoordinated, trying to prove something which was untrue, and Will was so out of it he chuckled hysterically at his attempts.

“Qué te ríes?!”

He was going to die, be consumed by his abuser until no distinguishable part of him would be left, and yet, all he kept thinking about was Hannibal’s absence. Something else was coming undone, perhaps his boxers, hands were under his shirt prodding every inch of his upper body, touch he couldn’t quite feel as he floated in a thin place of existence where Tommy barely existed. Will wanted to laugh again, for all his abuser pushed him to the breaking point, he failed at the one thing he desired most.

“You’ll never plant your roots inside me the way I’ve planted mines in you. You’ll never amount to anything in my mind, while I’ll consume your every thought even after I’m dead—”

“Cállate!”

Will shook at the yelling, once again invaded by the ghost of thousands of hands, everywhere, the agent couldn’t tell apart which one was Tommy’s real touch and what was the product of his imagination, as his arm stayed pressed against his eyes, refusing to look, his skin deeply flushed, humiliation at its peak. At one point, Tommy’s full weight laid against him, his head tucked against his shoulder, whispering filthy words he didn’t have the energy to comprehend, the pressure maddening as it kept growing, nonexistent fingertips tracing every inch of his skin, from his pectorals to his soft co*ck, nudging his thighs apart easily.

He was so deeply tired, so Will decided to simply let him take over, engulfed in the darkness of the abuse, he slipped away into the comfort of his own head, knowing Tommy could violate him everywhere but inside his mind palace.

————————

Will was laying in a bed now, a warm unknown body coddled next to him, complete darkness around when he opened his eyes, feverish skin tainting him with a layer of sweat. He doesn’t remember Tommy moving him into another room, but then again, he probably dissociated for the entirety of it all, way after he was done with the abuse, unable to get back inside his own body. He doesn’t feel any pain, but Tommy’s arm wrapped around him was humiliating, usurping Hannibal’s rightful place into their home just for the sake of hurting him.

He curled away from the other man’s touch, crying softly under his breath, as silently as he could muster, unable to get up and go, unable to retreat in his mind palace any longer. Suddenly came a movement from behind him and Will’s heart jumped, hugging himself when he felt the man’s looming presence shift, a hand touching his shoulder.

“Will—“

“No… Not again” he sobbed, clutching the blankets until his knuckles turned white, the previous confidence which had signed his doom now vanished completely, replaced with the terror he had so foolishly hoped to not have anymore. If he wasn’t able to retrieve inside his head, there was nothing he could do to bear with the abuse.

“Please, just let me rest for a moment, I’ll be good next time, I’m sorry for answering back, I’m sorry, leave me alone please leave me alone just for a while—“

The opposite bedside table lamp was turned on, lighting the whole room up and once a pair of hands came down on him to turn him around Will instinctively screamed and kicked, a sudden rush of adrenaline as he sat up and squirmed away from the harsh grasp, unable to take any more abuse yet weaker than the hands forcefully holding him, as one grabbed his arm and pushed him to his captor’s front, back laying against the man’s chest. Will kept his eyes closed, crying out, shaking his head.

“Will! Will look at me!” Came a voice, one not quite like Tommy’s, but still unrecognisable.

“Leave me alone!” Too caught up in panic Will couldn’t register a single word, screaming again, elbowing him harshly, the man suddenly turned them both around, his hands grabbing each of Will’s shoulders squeezing them tightly, flipping them so Will’s back was pushed upwards against the headboard, then enabling movement from his legs by climbing on top and bracketing his hips with strength. Will’s head fell back, neck craned upwards, breathing heavily, mind racing without a reprieve.

“Please snap out of it, mylimasis please it’s just me, just open your eyes”

Will didn’t want to, too afraid to look and see the reality of things, but then in that mess of fear and anger, he was able to register the word mylimasis, something Tommy couldn’t possibly know. He let his breathing calm down just enough to stop the dizziness, hesitantly opening his eyes, Will’s vision adjusted accordingly, the blurry corners of his sight became slowly clearer after some seconds, Hannibal’s image was vivid right in front of him, the older man’s breathing unsteady from the strain of the fight, his eyes full of worry. He looked disheveled from the sudden attack, but the fondness in his gaze was unmeasurable.

It took Will some moments to realise what had actually happened, eyes all over the place, memories quickly coming back to their rightful place in order, an elaboration of each painful event that occurred these last months. Hannibal’s eyes gazed worriedly at him, his lover had been frozen long enough for him to grow preoccupied again; but then after what seemed like forever awareness came, and his body slowly unwind from all of the previous tension, exhausted from the strain of a constant survival mode, Will’s arms moved to their own accord and he hugged Hannibal so tightly it probably hurt, burying his face against his neck, pushing him as close as he could sobbing softly against his skin from relief.

Hannibal didn’t need to say anything, hugging Will back, his hands came to stroke his hair, feeling the younger man’s vibrations from under him, the rise and fall of his chest, the tears prickling his collarbone. He had seen Will broken thousands of times after finding him alone in the streets, a rescue of his own crafting, but it had been such a long time since an attack like this occurred. His hands squeezed Hannibal’s shoulders, desperately moving around the map of his body, as if he were making sure what he felt under his touch was actually real.

“He— He was— you were—“ Will gasped, incoherence falling from his lips in a chaotic blabbering, uselessly trying to string sentences together. Hannibal nodded barely, aware of the source of his night terrors, all to fresh in his mind the abuse his lover had to endure, the prize of his survival, an ongoing haunting still present in his dream realm, the only place where Hannibal couldn’t shield from harm.

“I know, I know I know” Hannibal muttered repeatedly, words lost to his cries as the older man crouched down to kiss his forehead, a poor attempt at comfort, which Will immediately responded to by leaning into the contact, tilting his head up, high strung and needy, his body still shaking with fear. There were tears staining his cheeks, the white of his eyes was completely scarlet as he gazed up to him, making sure it was Hannibal, making sure he wasn’t still stuck with him. Hannibal became overwhelmed with the urge to enter his mind and eradicate the source of his stress from the roots, remove every trace of that foul man from his memories, so he could stop tormenting his lover even in death, tainting their peace.

It seemed to go on forever, Will gently exploring his body to give himself the certainty of this reality, fingers tracing the burnt mark of Muskrat Farms on his back, other scars he had learned by heart the placements of. Eventually, after making sure he wasn’t still stuck in one giant hallucination, Will’s sobs quietened, the room stilled and they were engulfed with the silence after the storm. The younger man was resting his head against his lover’s chest, drained out from all his energy, ashamed of his own reaction, each time he blinked he felt an unbearable burning. This finally nearly-lucid Will would now dare to call it an overreaction, but Hannibal would beg to differ, and they’d never get out of the loop.

“I’m sorry” Will opted for instead, shame prickling his skin at the scene he just caused, “For how I—“

“I strongly advice against finishing that sentence”

It stopped Will immediately from going further, all too aware Hannibal wouldn’t allow him to diminish his trauma after a strong attack such as this. It made him feel pathetic to know Tommy had still a tight grasp on his life, and he could wake up scaring the living sh*t out of Hannibal for an abuse that belonged so long in the past. It had been months now, he was dead, Will had killed him, so why—

“I don’t understand” Will whispered, mortification in his tone, more than the sadness and fear there was a shameful sense of rage, frustration boiling beneath his skin. “I was doing better… I wasn’t thinking about him anymore, why would it happen again now? You saw me, I was—“

“You can’t berate your mind for an uneven healing process, Will. Coming back from a trauma like that is not going to be a steady linear pattern, there could be times you—“

“But I was doing fine!” Will protested slightly raising his voice, and his throat immediately ached, coughing in response, rough noises from the strain of the screaming earlier. Hannibal’s only response was hugging him again, a steady weight to ground Will against his body and in the present before he got worked up again, so the latter squirmed and growled for a while, until at last he allowed Hannibal to hold him, sighing defeatedly on his chest. The older man held Will against him, then gently making them both slide down the mattress so they were both laying down face to face on their sides, legs tangling together immediately, the urge to feel skin to skin contact anywhere they could reach.

Will’s head tucked against his neck, hiding his gaze from Hannibal’s own worried one. The latter allowed him to hide for the time being, not forcing the eye contact, rough hands coming up pet his hair again instead, causing him to release a tense sigh. Slowly unwinding.

“Stop punishing yourself” Hannibal whispered against his forehead, lips brushing his temple, then leaving feather light kisses there, delighting in Will’s imperceptible reactions, getting used to a care that right now seemed so foreign - “For what’s beyond your control…”

“My mind… is the only thing that’s under my control” Will weakly protested.

“Allow your mind to heal. Put yourself to rest, live through what happened to you, survive and evolve” Hannibal whispered against his temple, moving and placing gentle kisses on his jaw, Will shook against him, feeling gentle rushes of pleasure shiver in his spine, his body relaxing in response to the familiar touches of his husband, lips that belonged there, a union of body and soul that had taken place long before he were aware. Will thought he had a lost him forever, but he was here, he was right here.

“What if I can’t evolve?”

“You’re ever-changing, mylimasis. You will survive anything you’re put through, and I’ll be there to catch you and lure you back to the surface if you happen to slip…” Hannibal gently soothed, a promise to Will as much as it was one to himself, a constant reminder to never allow something like this to happen ever again. He was supposed to protect him, but his Will, his fiery lover, had been able to get himself out of Hell alone because he hadn’t been fast enough to help; he’d die if it meant he’d be able to reserve time.

Hannibal would never allow circ*mstances to push them both into a scenario akin to the nightmare of the last months. This was a promise.

His lover seemed to have lost the will to protest, choosing to believe Hannibal’s words, his only reassurance in a whirlwind of uncertainties. There was no words to be said anymore as Will allowed them both to enjoy the silence now, relishing in the warmth of each other’s body, the safety of their house, and before he could even realise it the previous nightmare had begun to dissolve away from his consciousness. The once vivid details of the abuse becoming unclear and foggy like a cloud, until there was nothing left but the ghost of a memory Will couldn’t quite grasp.

It finally slipped away from him entirely, so once Will forgot what had even taken place in his dream realm, what had caused the attack to trigger in the first place, he became aware Tommy had failed, unable to win his mind. He smiled with an unparalleled relief, nuzzling against his lover, the cloud dissolved, and all that was left was him and Hannibal.