smallredboy

Title: playing and paying
Fandom: Hannibal (TV)
Rating: PG-13
Length: 1k words
Content notes: (Auto-) Cannibalism, nonconsensual drugging. Set during the post-credits scene in S3E13 The Wrath Of The Lamb.
Author notes: Also for the square "watching helplessly" in my genprompt_bingo card.
Summary: This is how Bedelia Du Maurier pays.

You play, you pay.

And this is how Bedelia Du Maurier is paying, it seems.

She's drugged, body too heavy to move it, and she's settled nicely on a chair. Her tongue is lead-filled, moving it around like dragging it through the sand. She doesn't think she can speak; all she can do is watch her two captors. Hannibal and Will.

She knew Hannibal was going to eat her eventually, but she didn't expect for it to be only one part of her, and for her to be kept alive during the ordeal.

If I were you, I would pack my bags, Bedelia. Meat's back on the menu.

Meat is back on the menu. She's sick with it, with what is going to happen to her, but she can't do anything to fight it. Perhaps the worst part is seeing Hannibal and Will's clear affections.

She had always known that Hannibal was in love with Will. Even before she truly knew what he was, it was obvious. All their conversations ever since he met him drew back to the man— that twitchy, strange man with an empathy disorder, with a knack for the monsters, as everyone had said over and over again. Well, his knack for the monsters goes far and wide beyond just an empathetic angle. He loves the monsters. Or well, at least just one of them— and he is becoming one himself.

"Dear," Will starts, stopping his chopping of vegetables. "Is this enough? I'm still getting to know your recipes, my love, so I need you to lead."

"I know, darling, don't worry," Hannibal says, leaning in to kiss his cheek. "I'd say you should chop them just a bit more. And then we can work at the wrapping for her leg."

Will purrs and wraps an arm around Hannibal's waist, leaning into his touch. "I love you."

"I love you too, darling. More than words could ever say."

"Well, isn't that why you left your broken heart at the chapel? To show me?"

"Yes."

Bedelia had hoped, once upon a time, that Will wouldn't return Hannibal's affections. That after he framed him for his murders, he would pull away, maybe leave Baltimore and get as far away from Hannibal as possible. But of course that wasn't what happened.

Will betrayed Hannibal, which involved the possibility of Hannibal feeling betrayed. It was hard for a man like Hannibal to feel such a strong connection to someone as to feel hurt by their actions, but here he was, clear as day, talking to her as her patient. That they had betrayed each other, kissed the dagger and pushed it onto each other's backs at the same time. (One dagger was literal, but Will didn't seem to mind.)

She misses the days where all she had was Hannibal's influence over her. When all he had shown her was the ability to slowly influence her toward murder. When all she could see was a peek under the person suit, not him stripping bare in front of her, for her to see all of him. And everything that entailed.

Hannibal always dances in self-congratulation, but he doesn't self-congratulate now. He's too busy being lovey with Will Graham, the man he's been in love with since the day they met. She remembers back when he talked about it, about the opportunity for friendship he gave him, despite their lack of things in common.

Well, Hannibal made sure for them to have things in common, that is clear now.

"How much spice?" Will asks as he rummages through Bedelia's spice rack.

"As much as you'd like, my dear," Hannibal says, smiling ever so gently at him.

He indulges, in an indulgence that is nothing like it was before. An indulgence toward people other than himself. It's incredible. She can't wait to talk at length about her encounter with them, if they are to leave her to live to tell the tale.

They perhaps are. Perhaps they want her to tell everyone that they're alive, murderous and in love. It makes sense— it's not like she'll be able to do much but that. She can't say a word about their whereabouts, except that they were once in her house, but who knows where they'll be afterward.

Europe is too obvious. She doubts they'll go for Europe.

Her mouth feels less like sand now. "Was this development before or after killing the Dragon?" Bedelia asks.

Hannibal turns to her and he grins– it's not one of the small smiles he used to wear; his whole face lights up. "Right afterward. Will sent us both down the bluffs after he realized he's in love with me, too." He clicks his tongue and steps towards her. "It was very rude, Dr. Du Maurier, to break doctor-patient confidentiality like that. Even after I left your care."

Bedelia manages a smile. "I did not disclose anything you disclosed to me."

"It was something I implied greatly, Dr. Du Maurier."

He's not truly angry; he's teasing, playful. She tries to think about what Will said; you play, you pay. But Hannibal is not going to pay any time soon. Perhaps ever.

"Well, implications are not protected under confidentiality, Mr. Lecter," she says, teasing at the fact that his medical license is very obviously gone.

Hannibal chuckles. "Don't tease me before I cut off your other leg, Bedelia."

Bedelia tilts her head, and she doesn't continue playing his game. She'd prefer to at least have one leg left after all this is over.

"Your meal's almost done, Bedelia," Will says, voice as playful as Hannibal's own. "It's my first time truly helping in Hannibal's kitchen, so it may not be up to your standard."

"I'm sure you can be taught," Bedelia replies dryly.

Will grins at her, wild eyes and sharp teeth. "I'm sure I can, too."

The oven quips, indicating it's done, and Bedelia swallows thickly.

"Time to set the scene," Hannibal says, taking her in his arms as he puts her on the far end of her dining table. He puts the cutlery down and then brings on her smoked leg, wrapped on vegetables, and her stomach shrinks. She watches as Will puts the wine down and then goes back to the kitchen.

She takes one of her forks and carefully places it on her chair. She can move, now. She will fight back, as much as it may cost her.