Disclaimer: I do not own Hannibal nor Sons of Anarchy. This is set between Season One and Two of Sons of Anarchy. In the Hannibal verse, I would set this in early Season One. This is totally non-canonical so don't get on my back about continuity. Enjoy!.
One of the worst things about sleepwalking was waking up in strange places.
Will Graham had plenty of experience waking up in strange places. Highway patrol once picked him up along a dark country road. Alana once found him standing on the roof of his cozy little house. Beverly once found him wandering around a 24 hour supermarket while carrying a box of condoms and a party-sized bag of chips. He woke up as they were walking out of the store. Unfortunately, he didn't bother looking into his shopping bag until the next morning. He shared the chips with his dogs and the condoms were shoved into the nightstand. The condoms were still there in the unopened package, taunting him about his celibate state. On that summer morning he woke to the smell of booze, sweat, weed, leather, and sex.
"My name is Will Graham. It is June 7th and I am in California." He remembered that the team had flown to Northern California to search for a serial killer who targeted brunettes connected to the medical field. After looking at the second scene, he surmised the killer was targeting women who represented a woman who had spurned his advances. The second scene was in Lodi: a willowy medical school student with long brown hair named Sara. He had been left alone in his motel room to compose a clearer picture of whom and what they were dealing with. He dreamed that he was in a hospital corridor following a doctor with pale skin and straight dark hair pulled into a sloppy ponytail. She was stressed, to focus on something else to notice as he brushed past… Then, he woke up.
Stumbling up, he realized that he had been cocooned by two scantily-clad women with bottle-blonde hair and obviously artificially enlarged breasts. The little trio had fallen asleep on a pool table. Will checked himself and determined he had not engaged in sexual acts with anyone while sleepwalking. Thank whatever God exists for that small favor. He noticed the large room was littered with passed out bikers, strippers, and some others he did not care to identify. Finally, he noticed the Grim Reaper on the wall and the word SAMCRO. FUCK!
Will Graham knew of the Sons of Anarchy New Orleans (SAMNO) chapter from before being stabbed. The branch had been suspected of gunrunning in the Gulf of Mexico but convictions were hard to come by in the face of corruption in city hall and New Orleans PD. His personal interactions had been unique. The New Orleans clubhouse was located a mile away from his one bedroom apartment, which meant he was living in a fairly crime-free neighborhood. Sons of Anarchy try not to cause problems in the surrounding areas and warn away elements who want to start doing drugs or take to attacking women. Despite his view on the club, he really did not want to be found in the mother charter's clubhouse carrying his FBI badge and a good reason for being in the aftermath of a huge party!
Someone opened a door to his left. In stepped a woman who exuded a strange blend of power, vanity, and oddly enough a strong maternal drive. She was definitely older but wore tight black jeans and a white blouse like a second skin. She was old enough to have gray hair, but she had chosen to dye it dark with some light brown highlights. The first few top buttons were undone, exposing a long surgical scar. Her condition must be genetic because the scar tissue was very old. She wore crow tattoos on her arm and breast, indicative of having been married to two different club members. Her black handbag was weighted down by a gun, but she was used to the added weight. Obviously, she was used to guns and their purpose. The look in her eyes told him that she was a woman who had clawed her way to the top and would do whatever is necessary to protect her interests. She froze when she saw Will standing amongst the chaos.
"Wild night," she quipped but her eyes were hard. She was trying to identify him from somewhere, but the answer was not forthcoming. In her eyes all strangers were suspicious till proven otherwise. "Which charter are you from?"
Will licked his lips and tried to play sick. He grabbed his stomach and put on a pained expression. "Where's the bathroom, ma'am?" He moaned. Most people did not like being presented with a person who was about to vomit. This mystery woman was not the exception.
Her sharp chin jutted towards a hallway. "If you make a mess, I'll make you lick it up!"
Will Graham made a mad dash for a tiny bathroom and locked the door. He could hear other people waking up and moving around. SHIT! His original plan of slipping away unnoticed was completely trashed. Frantically, he grabbed his cellphone and searched his contacts for anyone who had flown to California. He finally found someone, pressed the call button, and began whispering.
"Look for any businesses that are associated with SAMCRO," he commanded. "I am currently trapped in their bathroom and I need someone to get me before they figure out I do not belong here." In the next second, his phone died. He pushed it back into his pocket and hoped for the best.
A dark part of him really wished the Ripper had killed again in Baltimore that week. At least that entity was somewhat familiar.