Dust and Shadows

by EatTheRude88

Will Graham is a 16 year old with an abusive, alcoholic father. Living with an empathy disorder he cannot control, the things he feels are overwhelming, leading him to take his anger out on himself, and those around him. Hannibal is a 36 year old world renowned psychiatrist. He runs into Will one day and takes an immediate disliking to him. He starts a new game.

1. Chapter 1

AN: Hello everyone! *silence* Erm… I'm not sure anyone likes Hannibal anymore… Since it's been canceled for a while… I'm not even sure people read fanfiction nowadays… *sighs* But, I need to take out my love for cannibalistic serial killers somehow…. And I do believe writing fanfiction is a more healthy way than becoming said 'cannibalistic serial killer.' (Hey, who hasn't wanted to be Hannibal for a day…) At this point, I'm not sure if Hannibal is going to be a cannibal in this fic or not… I'm still deciding… Mwahaha! He will however, be very capable of murder. In the show, I find the psychological war between Will and Hannibal fascinating… How Hannibal quietly manipulates Will into breaking, yet somehow genuinely cares for him. The one thing I do know for certain is that Hannibal is not going to be "the good guy" here. Much like in season 1, he will be manipulative, cruel sometimes, and pushing poor Will steadily into insanity… I really hope that the characters aren't OOC (there's nothing I despise more than OOC-ness…) Also, I'm going to be writing about gangs, drugs, and bad things going on in the Baltimore area. Please don't be offended, as I barely know anything about this topic, and the things I write about Baltimore are mostly facts I've searched on the internet… So… Without further ado…

The thing that has to go before every fanfiction! *loud boos from audience*

I do not own Hannibal! If I did, there would be more Hannigram!

Warnings: Foul language, a teen with an attitude, drugs, self harm, violence, pretty much all the stuff your mother told you was bad when you were a kid…

"To the end of the world

There and back

Until the end of time

No one can stop me

if they tried

The darkest days

The darkest nights

I won't stop until the

day I die

Until the end of the world

my love

To the end of time."

Quietdrive- Until the End

Chapter 1

Jack Crawford Principal of Baltimore High School had dealt with many rebellious, delinquent teenagers in his years. From the jocks, who flaunted their physique and position in the hierarchy of the school, to the overly muscled, overly testosterone filled bullies, to the cliques of blonde, rich girls who were notorious for dating and dropping a boy every day. Most of these kids were just going through a 'transitional phase' in their lives. They were trying to find their place in the world, trying to figure out "who they truly were". At least, that's what Jack told himself on a daily basis, for his own sake, to keep from going insane. Many of these teens didn't cause major problems in the school. They may cause drama now and again, or get caught making out in school corridors late at night, or even get into a fist fight or two, but the majority of them stayed in the grey area between "ruffian" and "criminal". And as long as they were content in that grey area, Jack Crawford was content to ignore them. "Mediums", Jack would call them; a term he assigned to them after getting tired of calling them "the annoying brats who we can't expel because they haven't actually committed a crime worthy of expulsion." These "mediums" would continue their mildly irritating behavior, and Jack would pretend they didn't exist. That was the way his High School worked.

Being dead center in the middle of Baltimore, Maryland, the school was always full to the brim of students. As a public school, all teens all over the area were allowed free education (allowed being a tentative word, as many of the students didn't want to be there in the first place.) The school was an interesting mixing pot of races, along with an interesting mix of the super wealthy, and less fortunate. As such, there was always some sort of drama ensuing in the aged, gum riddled hallways of his school. Why, just last week a cheerleader from the Elite Poms squad tripped her "adversary" in the lunchroom. Something ridiculous about the other girl "beating her at pike jumps in the routine". The following quarrel escalated into a full on food fight, ending with many staff members dripping with spaghetti sauce and cursing at the rude children to whom they were entrusted. Jack remembered that day very clearly.

Due to the demanding nature of keeping a somewhat functional school running, he didn't sleep a lot. He had woken up with a pounding headache, and had been in a less than pleasant mood. Usually, he compensated his lack of sleep with coffee, and that day was no exception. He was on his third cup in two hours when the frantic teacher had burst into his office at a little past 12:30, exclaiming that "there was an emergency in the cafeteria!" Taking in the disheveled state of the teacher's dress, and the fact that half a piece of pie was stuck in his hair, Jack knew that the following day would be a mess. He ran down to the cafeteria, muttering curses under his breath. When he burst through the now food splattered doors, he yelled, "Everyone STOP this nonsense NOW!" This was met with a half eaten peanut butter sandwich to the face. After an abundance of shouting, getting hit with various food items, and slipping on the grimy floor, Jack managed to stop the riot by breaking the fire alarm and setting off all the sprinklers in the school. By that time, his headache had morphed into a migraine. Furious, and drenched in food and water, he marched the two cheerleaders, and the sandwich thrower to his office and proceeded to lecture them for two hours, finally deciding that having the two girls do 40 hours of community service would be an adequate punishment. The sandwich thrower however, was not so lucky. The poor boy was assigned bathroom cleanup duty for 3 months afterwards AND a detention with , (a rather old, senile, cat obsessed teacher who made those unfortunate enough to land detention look through her collection of cat photos and write a 12 page essay on which photo they found to be the most 'inspiring'.) Needless to say, poor Jack Crawford drank a great quantity of coffee that day…

It had been nearly a week and a half since the food fight, and Jack was desperately praying for another peaceful week. Hell, a few days would be better than nothing… It was 9:00 AM, on a Friday, and he was filling his third mug of coffee in the teacher's lounge. The rich aroma wafted through the air and made Jack sigh. Just 6 and a half more hours… 6 and a half more hours until he could go home and get some much needed sleep… 6 and a half more hours until he could stop worrying about his students making mischief and not doing their homework… The very thought of being able to go home, make a nice cup of tea, and read by the fireplace by his lovely wife Bella made him smile. That was, until, he heard a loud crash coming from the direction of his main office. Jumping, Jack spilled a bit of hot coffee onto his hand. He cursed loudly, slammed the mug onto the table, and hurried out into the hallway to see what was going on.

In the middle of the hall stood a dark haired teen and a teacher. Both were regarding each other with looks of pure hatred. Jack new them well.

The dark haired one, Will Graham, was an uncontrollable menace. He had been since the first time he set foot into the school two years ago. A sophmore now, he was well known around the school as "the wolf". A name christened to him due to all the fights he got into, and won. Without knowing the boy's personality, one might guess that Will was the nerdy type, perhaps a bit shy, and on the "less fortunate" side of the dollar bill. He barely came to school, so much so that the truancy court had to get involved (it did little good), but the times that he did manage to show up for a few hours, he was always adorned in oversized hoodies and baggy jeans. He wore glasses that had a strip of white tape down the middle (they were broken many times). His constantly disheveled appearance and oversized clothes had made him the target of bullies from the first day of school. They thought that he was another stupid, simple nerd who would be easily pushed around. Will's second day of school had proven everyone wrong. On that day, a well known Junior bully, Christopher Adams, decided to create a laugh by shoving Will into a locker, and stealing his backpack. To everyone's surprise, Will had flung himself back at the bully, using his momentum from hitting the locker. He had punched the boy so hard in the nose that it broke. He then proceeded to trip the bully, and beat him black and blue until a teacher came running over to help. The mysterious boy didn't come to school for the next week, and when he did, everyone kept their distance.

Little was known about Will. Even the teachers and Jack had barely any information on his home life, or what he did outside of school, where he lived, ect. Being such a large school, Baltimore HS's tons of student records were usually unkempt and disorderly. Furthermore, all of the teachers hated the rebellious kid, and had no interest in poking around his outside life. When Will was brought to Jack's office that second day of school, blood covering his knuckles, and a dark glint in his eyes, Jack had scanned over his folder. All he had found was a name, and a phone number that was apparently his father's. Later that day, Jack had called the number, and gotten a "this line has been disconnected" message in return.

From that day forward, Will had been a pain in everyone's ass. He only showed up for school once a week, if they were lucky. After a few months, the truancy court got involved and threatened him. No effect. After the amount of his absences grew to a staggering amount the Court ordered him to come in for a hearing. He never showed up. The police even went looking for him, but the boy had seemingly disappeared off the face of the planet. Two weeks later, and after the police had given up their search, Will walked into school in his usual attire, wearing a smug smirk and politely greeting all of the teachers. It was at that point that Jack knew Will would be one of those kids who wouldn't change or bend, no matter how much pressure would be put on them from the school, police, or court. He stopped trying to fight Will's unruly way, and acted as though he didn't exist. This seemed to suit Will just fine and they both went about their daily lives disregarding each other.

The teacher who was facing Will and glaring daggers was Mr. Thompson. The strict teacher had disliked Will since he first laid eyes on him two years ago. Of course, Will flipping him off multiple times, and storming out of his classroom didn't help the situation. Will hardly showed up to Mr. Thompson's English class, and when he did, it always ended with insults being thrown, and one of them losing their temper and leaving.

At the moment, Mr. Thompson was ranting at Will in a voice that was rising to a yell.

"You little brat! You delinquent! You have no right to come into my classroom after you've been gone for the last five weeks! Furthermore, your atrocious behavior has landed another one of your classmates in the nurse's office! Have you no sense of decency?! Why would you even show up to school if all you're going to do is get into fights and disrupt the learning environment?! Stop acting like such an immature child and come with me! I'll have Mr. Crawford expel your for sure this time!"

As he yelled, Mr. Thompson's face grew more and more red. By the end of his tirade, he reminded Jack of a ripe tomato, ready to burst.

Will looked like he couldn't care less. He had slouched against the wall while his teacher was ranting, one hand in his oversized jean pockets, his left leg curved and propped against the wall, and the fingers of his other hand tapping a pattern onto the uniform brick behind him. His dark green eyes rolled towards the ceiling, as if beseeching a higher entity to come and stop his teacher's diatribe. His nonchalant attitude only seemed to further upset Mr. Thompson. The taller man stepped towards Will, hand out to grab his arm. His fingers brushed Will's baggy, black sweatshirt, and Will jumped into movement, his reverie broken by the unexpected touch. It wasn't a flinch exactly, more like a sleeping tiger awaken by the sound of prey nearby. Will shot his left leg out into a straight kick that connected with Mr. Thompson's stomach. The man jerked backwards, a stunned look on his face, and then, by instinct, furled over and started to cough. Will was on his feet now, the surprised expression he had when Thompson had startled him was gone, and a look of dark fury replaced it. He stepped forward and swiftly grabbed the man's head with both hands. At the same time, he brought his knee up into the man's face. A loud crack echoed through the halls and Jack knew that the man's nose had just broken. Mr. Thompson yelled in both shock, and agony, rearing backwards and clutching his now bleeding nose with both hands. He stumbled back into the wall on the opposite side of the hall, and leaned on it, holding his nose and looking at Will with a stunned expression.

Jack knew he had to step in. Getting into a fight with a bully to defend yourself was one matter. Physically attacking a teacher was a completely different one. Unbeknownst to most people, Jack Crawford used to work with the police force. He was on a special team to catch criminals, and he was quite good at his job. He had to quit many years ago because he had been shot through the leg, and was unable to move as steadily as before. Running towards the fighting duo, Jack raised his voice to alert them to his presence.

"William! Stop where you are! Back away from Mr. Thompson!" Without realizing it, he had switched from "principal mode" to "cop mode". Facing a tall, strong black man was intimidating, even to Will. He glanced at the oncoming Principal before lowering his fists, and stepping backwards. He leaned against the wall again and looked over at Mr. Thompson with a tired bitterness in his eyes. With two fingers, he pushed up his glasses, which had fallen down his face in the fight.

Jack reached Mr. Thompson and steadied him, pulling his hands away from his blood soaked face to reveal a nose that was pointing at a strange angle. Blood was streaming out from it in a waterfall of crimson. It dripped down his face and onto the white tiles below. Letting out a muffled cry of agony and rage, Thompson pointed a shaking finger at Will, who wasn't even looking at them.

"I know, Mr. Thompson, I know." Jack tried to sooth the other man. "I'm going to be dealing with him very soon. You need to go to the nurse. She can help you stop the bleeding. Then, I suggest you go to the hospital." With another shake of his head, Mr. Thompson waved furiously at the boy opposite of them, who looked completely nonchalant about the whole situation.

Jack's voice rang out through the hallway. It was a command, and left no room for arguing. "Will. My office. Now."

With a grimace, Will extracted himself from the wall, and slouched down the hallway towards Jack's office. With the infuriatingly calm boy out of the way, Jack turned back to Mr. Thompson, who was now covered in blood. In the same commanding voice he ordered. "Go to the clinic. I'm going to deal with Will Graham in a moment. He will be punished accordingly to the severity of his actions. After that, we can discuss the matter of the incident, as well as your future work schedule." Hearing the tone of the older man's voice, the teacher nodded his head and turned towards the stairs that lead to the clinic.

Jack looked at the floor and closed his eyes. The blood could be cleaned up easily… The fact that Will had assaulted a teacher could not be. At this point, he had no choice. He had to expel Will. In the past, suspension had no effect. The boy missed school enough to not even notice a suspension. Sending him to court wouldn't work either. Last time, he hadn't even bothered to show up. He could ask the police to take Will into custody, but he doubted the boy's attitude would change. A few days behind bars, and the kid would be out and free to continue terrorizing his school. There was nothing else Jack could do. This was one time too many. For nearly two years Jack had dealt with Will's fiendish attitude and fights, but it had to stop.

Jack walked into his spacious office and saw Will leaning in the corner. There were two seats in front of Jack's large desk, but Will didn't take one, even as Jack entered his office and closed the door behind him. At that action, Will's emerald eyes flitted over to the door. A look of panic flashed across his face, and he slid a hand into his left hand pocket. Jack knew that Will had a problem with closed spaces, and with close proximity to other people, so he wanted to get this over with fast. For both of their sakes. Jack ignored the movement, knowing full well that Will likely had some sort of weapon hidden on him, and instead sat down at his desk, steepling his hands on the hard surface.

His desk was covered in multicolored files and papers. Documents about the school's funding, the school's upcoming test, the classes and teacher's salaries… At the right side of his desk lay a pile of unread folders that was at least a foot and a half high. In the middle of the rounded desk was a computer, a small picture of Bella beside it (the only personal item he had in the room). Pens and pencils littered the array of papers, and a small army of coffee mugs littered the smooth surface of the desk that wasn't covered; a testament to the amount of work Jack had to deal with every day.

He wanted Will to understand just how serious his attack on a teacher had been.

"Will, you're here because you attacked a teacher. You didn't attack another student, you weren't defending yourself, and you had no logical reason to attack him. You attacked a member of my staff, a member of this school, and an important part of this community. This is a serious offence. You understand that I could, and should have you detained by the police?" A short silence followed this, as Will gazed out the window to his right. He seemed to be fighting the urge to make an escape, or say something snarky. He went with the latter approach.

"Yeah. I get it. What I did was serious and badddd," he lengthened the last word to sound amused, "What are you going to do about it? Expel me?"

A moment's pause.

"Yes. I am, actually. I've had enough of your behavior. I've had enough of your fighting, and I am done trying to make you listen to me. Your life is your life. If you want to spend the rest of it running around for gangs and selling drugs, be my guest." Jack answered calmly.

Verdant eyes narrowed for a second, before Will smirked.

"So, you've finally gotten up the balls to do this. I knew it was coming… It was all a matter of time…" His voice trailed off and his smirk grew wider. He reminded Jack of the Cheshire Cat, with that ever present grin.

Jack continued, acting as if he hadn't heard the boy's last rude comment and pulling a sheet of paper from a drawer of his desk.

"I will be filing the paperwork for your expulsion this afternoon. You're no longer welcome to Baltimore HS. You may attend schools in the area, if they accept you, however if you come back here without permission form one of the staff members, you will be escorted off the premises. Furthermore, you will be taking this expulsion notice to your father tonight. He will need to read it, and sign that he understands. You will then bring this back tomorrow and leave it at the front desk. Do you understand?"

At the mention of the word "father", Will's grin disappeared. A glint of cold fury entered his eyes, and his face went blank.

"Is the signature really necessary, sir? My father does not care what I do, nor if I'm in school or not. Surely it would just be a waste of his time." He spoke the words carefully, articulating the "sir" and forcing his body posture to relax in order to seem more friendly. Jack took this in with curiosity. Because he knew so little about the boy's life outside of school, watching him discuss it was interesting.

"It's part of the rules that you get the notice signed." Jack replied. He saw Will's eyes narrow and added, "No excuses. You will have it signed and turned in tomorrow. Or I'll be forced to send the police to your home to have it signed instead."

The leafy green eyes hardened to emeralds. Jack had to admit, the boy had the "I'm going to kill you in your sleep" glare down to perfection. Will stepped away from the wall, his hand slid from his pocket and snatched the paper from the table. He turned on his heel, and stalked towards the door.

"Fine." He growled as he swung the door open. Without a backward glance, the boy strode out of Jack's office and down the hall. Jack knew that calling for him to come back would be about as effective as trying to cut a tree with a blunt rock. He sat back in his chair, signing and rubbed his temples. So much for his peaceful evening and weekend… He needed some coffee. Or maybe some wine… Badly.

Will's POV

16 year old William Graham strode down the wide, dimly lit hallways of Baltimore HS, the cursed "expulsion slip" clenched in his long fingers. He wanted to tear it into a million pieces; set it on fire and watch it burn away into nothing. He didn't even know why he decided to drag his ass out of bed that morning and make his way to the familiar, dull brick building. His hands were stained with blood from Mr. Thompson's nose, and were slowly dying the white piece of paper red. That piece of paper is like me. Will thought as he slowed his walk into an amble. What once was pure, and now is tainted red with blood. How ironic. When the word "pure" flashed through his mind, Will's lips tilted upwards. Naw, I was never pure. I was never meant to be pure. Not like the other idiots here who grew up living in mansions and going on fancy vacations. Some people are born with power and status. Some people aren't. With this last thought, he clenched his fist together so tight that the slip of paper began to tear, a light rip of paper alerted Will to this, and he forced his arm to relax. As he made his way down the stairs to the main entrance hall, he thought bitterly ,"It's not my fault this place is such a crappy, disgusting place to be. The teachers tell me that if I don't want to be here, I should just leave. Well, I tried that, and you tried to send me to court! Pretentious bastards."

His feet hit the hard tile of the entrance hall, and he peered around. There were benches scattered about, and a few squishy chairs, where various teens would study, sleep, or (for the most part) make out. At the moment, there was a group of two freshman girls seated on a bench at the other end of the hall. They were whispering to each other in hushed voices, and laughing in turn. One of them would show the other a picture and they would burst into loud guffaws. Will rolled his eyes. All the girls in this place were the same… They were obsessed with their looks, material objects, and status. They didn't care how the boys just saw them as objects or how foolish they looked to the outside world… Monotonous. Boring. Near the two sets of double doors that lead out of the building, sat Ms. Spencer, the cranky old front desk lady. She wasn't too fond of Will, and he reciprocated her feelings of dislike. As he walked up to the doors, she glanced up from a file she was reading and gave him a scowl. Her frown had always reminded Will of a frog that had just eaten something sour, emphasized by the fact that she always wore a lipstick that was a violent shade of red.

"So, I heard you've finally been expelled, William." She used his full name because she knew he disliked it. "Everyone in the school has been waiting for this day. No one is going to miss you or," she said haughtily, "your arrogant little attitude." Will didn't even deign to acknowledge her presence. With the same dark look he had on his face before, he swung open the large glass door, and walked outside into the autumn morning.

The sudden sunlight was a vast contrast to the flickering LED lights inside the building. Unconsciously, Will raised his right hand to his face, trying to shield his eyes from the sudden change in brightness. After closing his eyes for a few moments, he opened them, winced, and continued to walk forward. He noticed that he was still holding the crumpled, bloody paper in his hand, and quickly shoved it into his pocket.

One of the only things Will didn't despise about Baltimore HS was the premises. The school building was vast, and three stories high. It was built in a gothic style, with beautiful spirals and delicate carvings that formed swirling lines. Will couldn't care less about the architecture. He simply enjoyed the fact that the school was right next to a large park, and the main library of Baltimore. The park was flat, with trees surrounding it, and colorful flower beds decorating the sides. A long path ran down the middle, with oak trees on either side. In the summer, their leaves were green as an emerald, and their leaves would make gentle shushing sounds as they swayed in the wind. In autumn, the leaves would transform into the fiery colors of a phoenix. Burning bright in hues of scarlet, orange and pink; a final dance, a testament to a long life cycle ending, before dulling into brown and falling away. It was beautiful to watch. The vibrancy of the trees in their final moments, and Will always found himself spending more time in the park when autumn came. He was transfixed with the bold hues and how they would dwindle down like the embers of a fire, the color slowly slipping away. He wondered if the splendor of a human's soul dying would be as striking.

In the middle of the park sat a large fountain. Perched on top was an archaic angel statue. The statue had always been there, watching over the park and those who entered it. It was almost life sized, wearing magnificently carved white robes, hands up to the sky, imploring the heavens, invoking a higher power and yet somehow also, in all its majestic beauty, surrendering itself to the sceptered sway of the cosmic universe. Water gently fell from the angel's cupped hands, it fell down the solemn face of the angel and left translucent waves of liquid constantly running down his robes, before cascading gently into the pool below. At times, Will would look up at the statue and swear he saw the angel crying. The water would flow down the eternal face, and the light would hit it in such a way that it looked as if tears were pouring from the stone eyes. The limpid drops seemed to be suspended in the air, as he watched, like time had noticed the angel's weeping and stopped to gaze sadly at it.

Will was a rare creation, one both blessed and cursed with pure empathy. It was a blessing because it allowed him to see people. Really see them. Their desires, the innermost workings of their souls, the way they thought about things… He could become anyone he wanted to, as the mirrors in his soul were crystal clear. But it was also a curse. From the time he was young, Will had felt too much. The anger and stress of those around him would affect him as if he were feeling it himself. When he was near someone who was filled with sorrow, he too would be filled with sorrow. He never knew himself because there was always someone else's mask covering his soul. It was suffocating. Some days, when Will would go outside, the weight of the world would push on his shoulders until he could no longer stand. The angerhatredpainsorrowgriefdesire of everybody around him was like a thick, dark, fog that would never cease. Will compared himself to Sisyphus; the cursed man who eternally had to roll a boulder up a hill, just to watch it roll back down.

He found peace sitting by the fountain and the angel. A solid being that would ground him. One that he couldn't feel. And yet, when he saw the gentle tears of water falling down it's marble face, he wondered. He wondered what it must be thinking, experiencing, feeling, in its world of endless vigilance. Forced to stand atop a podium and watch the world pass it by. Never knowing the release of death, the peacefulness of sleep, or the longing of freedom. Will wondered if angels ever felt old. He wondered if they got lonely; surely they must… An existence of solitude, one without the comfort of a friend, without the warmth of a touch, or a smile from someone else.

Will walked down the street, pulling his hoodie towards him as a brisk breeze fluttered through the air. His baggy jeans weren't very warm, but they were all he had. He reached a stoplight and leaned against it, waiting for the "walk" signal. Breathing out, he saw his own breath. It was faint, but a definite indicator of the cold weather approaching. He exhaled deeply and turned his face to the sky. It was a clear azure color. A few white whisps of clouds were scattered amongst the vast, deep blue, but other than that, the cobalt color was uninterrupted. The sign dinged its "approval to walk" message, and Will sauntered across the crosswalk.

Baltimore was always crowded, even after rush hour and cars were lined up waiting on the light. Impatient people filled them. People who were late to work, or anxious to get their kids to or from school. Boring people. Typical people. He crossed the street and wandered past the large fence that announced "Seraph's Park". He let out a deep breath, and inhaled. He always felt more at peace in this place, nearby his angel, and surrounded by the quiet heartbeat of the trees. He quietly made his way down a winding dirt path that snaked through the park like a maze. He knew the path like the back of his hand, and didn't have to stop to decide which direction to turn. When he reached a row of tall hedges, he smiled. The fountain and angel were in the middle of the park, but they were also concealed rather well by the serpentine paths, rows of trees, and hedges that filled the park. Will thought it was appropriate. Something so beautiful shouldn't just be available for everyone to gawk at. They should have to earn gazing at the angel's solemn visage. Few people had the time, or energy to walk around the entire loops of the park searching for the correct path, so few people were ever at the fountain.

Because of this, it was quite surprising to see two men seated on a pair of facing benches by the corner of a hedge. One of them was slightly overweight, with dark brown hair that was slicked back, and a bushy beard obscuring most of his lower face. He was wearing a badly tailored suit, with a bright orange striped tie that clashed in a painful way with the otherwise dark colors of his coat. His rounded face was pudgy and he had bags under his eyes. Will raised an eyebrow. At the moment, the man was talking in a rapid pace to someone seated in front of him. Will made his way tentatively closer to the pair, wanting to get a clear look at who the intruders to his fountain were. He was obscured by a hedge, but he would have to peek out to get a look at the other man. Will tilted his head out of the hedge slightly, pushing up his tilted glasses to get a better look. The second man immediately reminded Will of a Greek statue. He was tall and slender, though not thin, and donned in an immaculate dark blue three piece suit. He had long arms and legs, and sat with his back in a straight line, as if an invisible string were pulling his head to the sky. He seemed to be listening to the innocent looking man before him, hands steepled on his lap, with his left leg crossed over the right. His face was clean shaven, and sharp brown eyes regarded his partner with mild interest. Dark hazel hair was neatly combed back on his head, an elegant fringe of hair brushed against his forehead. The man was seated in a relaxed position, but his posture unconsciously demanded attention and respect. Will frowned. The middle of a park on the morning of a September day was an odd place to meet up and talk. Especially for two people who looked like they were CEO's of famous companies. Will's eyes flicked over the first man, who had put his hands under his chin and was still talking quickly, his eyes were wide and full of a strange sort of desire that Will found unnerving. That man wasn't rich or well off. He didn't have a high paying, high status job. His posture and slouched back made Will sure of that. So why was he wearing a suit? And such a badly made one at that? Once again, Will glanced at the second man. Taking in the tailored suit and pristine appearance of him made Will wonder if the first man was attempting to emulate him. The unruly hair that was slicked back with a ridiculous amount of hair gel… The way the first man was trying, and failing to sit in a graceful position… Yes, whoever the first man was, he was in quiet awe of the second. But why? How riveting must the second man be, for someone to want to be him? What kind of power does he hold?

As he watched the conversation from behind the hedge, the first man (Wannabe, Will decided to call him) was getting more and more distraught. His face was reddening and Will could see tears forming at the corner of his eyes. Unconsciously, Will leaned back. He was never comfortable around such awkward outward displays of emotion, and he didn't want to be anywhere near someone who's inner turmoil was so tumultuous. He knew better than to get too close to someone who was feeling intense emotions. The spotless man who sat across from him shifted in his seat. He moved backwards to lean against the back of his bench, unsteepled his hands for a moment, and then placed them on top of each other on his knees. He sat up straighter, gazing at the emotional man in front of him with a gaze that reminded Will of a hawk circling its prey from above. There was interest there, but it was cold. Surgical and professional.

In an accent Will couldn't quite identify, he spoke. His voice was deep and calm.

"Franklyn."

The now weeping man looked up. He had wiped his puffy eyes with the arm of his suit, an action that convinced Will he wasn't of high society.

"Yes?" Came the shaky reply.

"Tell me, how does this make you feel?"

Will let out a snort of laughter at the overused question, before slapping his bloody hands over his mouth and darting back behind the hedge. Who was this guy, a psychologist or something?

"I… Hate being this neurotic." The man said with a small sniff at the end.

Without a moment's pause, the calming tone answered, "If you were not neurotic, you would be something much worse."

"Franklyn" let out a sob and slipped his pudgy hand over his eyes again.

"But… It's so hard. Some days I feel like I'm the happiest person in the world, and the next I feel like I shouldn't even be alive… It's like having a hungry lion in the room with me all the time…"

The (psychologist guy, Will dubbed him) leaned forward and placed a hand under his chin, tilting his head to one side. The long fingers of his right hand dropped to the arm of the bench and tapped a steady pattern.

"You have to convince yourself the lion is not in the room. When it it, I assure you, you will know." The words were spoken in a light tone, yet they conveyed a darker meaning. It sounded as if he were just discussing a mundane topic, like the weather, but a current of danger ran through his voice.

The man named Franklyn was about to reply when the booming chimes of church bells split through the air. It was 10:00 AM. Franklyn jumped in his seat, but the "psychologist guy" simply stared up at the angel with a small smile, as if it were the one behind the ringing cacophony. The bells stopped ringing and the man pushed back a sleeve to peer down at a watch. He rose from his seated position with the grace of a panther and looked down upon the other man.

"Franklyn, I'm afraid our time for today is up. You must realize that dramatic mood swings are always going to be common for people suffering from neurosis. They will, no matter how hard you wish for it, never completely dissipate, no matter how much therapy you attend, or how much medicine you take. At this time, I would like for you to continue taking your medication and writing down all the dreams you have in your journal."

Franklyn sniffled and stood as well. When he did, Will could see that his suit was much too large for him, and that the sleeves hung down past his hands. The man looked downtrodden; like a child whose favorite toy just broke.

"But… Doctor Lecter… I want to keep talking to you…" So, the other guy's name was Lecter… He was obviously a doctor of some sort. Will had to guess a psychiatrist, as the man was discussing various anti neurotic medications.

Dr. Lecter's calm expression didn't change as he gazed at the red face of his patient. Will was under the impression he heard this a lot from the other man.

"I too would enjoy to continue this engaging conversation, but I have a strict schedule to follow and your allotted time for today is up. Come. I will show you to the exit path." Without giving Franklyn a chance to answer, he turned on his heel and gracefully walked towards a gap in the hedges. Franklyn looked like he was about to argue, but resigned himself to follow the Doctor to the path. He slouched after the tall man with a rejected look on his face. Will waited for the pair to become completely hidden behind the row of shrubs before slipping into the clearing and sitting on the edge of the fountain.

The gentle sound of flowing water filled his ears and he felt his body relaxing. Looking down at his hands, he saw that they were still covered in a thin layer of blood. The blood was fading to a metallic brown color, but it still reminded Will of the rather unpleasant turn of events that went down an hour earlier. He shook his head in amusement as he realized that he had actually been in a decent mood that morning. His father was out of the house, likely drinking in a bar, and Will had managed to file the hot water bill for that month. His house hadn't had hot water for nearly a month before that. Will had to complete many unpleasant jobs for the local gang in order to afford the bill. He had taken a long, hot shower before deciding to head over to the school and see what was going on. When he had entered Mr. Thompson's classroom and taken a seat (while simultaneously interrupting a very boring lecture on Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet, an asshole from the middle school he attended proceeded to make crude comments about Will's state of dress and how he was a "freak". Will really had tried to ignore the comments, but when "I bet your mother was a whore" came into the picture, he couldn't take it. The classroom was already full of negative emotions, and being pressured by a 'peer' didn't help at all. He had lunged at the other boy, kneed him in the groin, and slammed his head into a desk before Mr. Thompson had intervened. Losing his temper was common with Will, though it rarely ended in violence. He would say something witty and sarcastic, before walking away. That usually worked but this time it ended with him getting expelled. Fucking expelled. He thought, a feral snarl ripping through his mind. He let out a growl and pulled the crumpled "expulsion form" from his pocket. What a waste of time. Just thinking about the bully who had pissed him off, to that asshole teacher made him boil with rage. Without a moment's hesitation he raised his right fist and punched the hard rock of the fountain as hard as he could. Pain shot through his knuckles and up his arm. He could feel the bones in his fingers pressed together as his fist connected with the solid surface. A white hot jolt of pain flashed up his arm and he sighed in relief. Pain was always the best way to get rid of anger. Or so he told himself.

Unfurling his clenched fist was painful, if not more painful from the impact of hitting the rock. His fingers throbbed as he tried to move and straighten them. With a grimace he noted that the skin on his knuckles had peeled off and now his hand was covered in both his own blood, and the blood of his former teacher. He could feel the swelling begin in the first two knuckles of his hand before he had fully opened his fist again. Will's anger filled eyes found the angel's face. How pathetic I must look to it. He thought. Such a display of human weakness in front of such an inhuman being.

Outloud he pondered, "I wonder, do you angels ever long to be human? Are you unhappy stuck in a form that will never change? Well, let me tell you… This world sucks. I would be much happier if I were one of you…"

His contemplation was interrupted by a very familiar accented voice.

"A life full of solitude and isolation must weigh heavily on the soul, even for a divine being such as an angel. Angels must exist, evolve, adapt to the world in a never ending cycle. Do you not believe that, no matter how transitory it is, human life is more treasured?"

Will spun around fists automatically raised and stance shifting into a fighting one. 'Doctor Lecter' was standing on the outskirts of a neatly trimmed hedge. He looked at Will for a moment, then focused his gaze on the angel.

"Tanta stultita mortalium est." He continued, seeming to ignore Will's presence.

Will was more than a little unhappy about how his day was going. He'd already gotten into two fights, been expelled, and found that one of his favorite places was occupied with strangers.

"So, you're 'Doctor Lecter", are you?" Will drawled, rolling his eyes to the sky before pinning them at the older man's jacket. He had never been fond of eye contact. Eyes are often known as "the windows to the soul" and Will didn't want any more souls (as it was, he was nearly drowning in the weight of everyone else's souls.)

Doctor Lecter glanced at Will's face, trying to make eye contact. After he had not succeeded three times, he replied, "I am. I assume you were the one listening in on my previous therapy session."

Will jolted. How had the other man known? Sure, he laughed once, but it was quiet and quickly covered by his hands.

As if reading Will's mind, Dr. Lector continued.

"You are wondering how I knew someone was listening to us." Lips twitched upwards, "You see, I have a rather good sense of smell. Is the aftershave you're using Afta?"

Will quietly nodded, wondering how the man had smelled him from 20 feet away. He had worn aftershave yesterday. Did it really stink that badly?

The voice continued. "A tremendous difference can be seen and smelt after one uses common aftershave and quality aftershave. As a matter of fact, it's so important that it could form or break a friendship…"

Will was not amused with the man's speech. He wanted the damn man to go away. Didn't he leave with that Franklyn guy? Why is he back here? I hope he doesn't make a habit of it. I can't stand people, especially not rich, arrogant people like this Doctor. Talking to me about "quality" aftershaves. It wasn't even noon yet and Will was in a fowl mood. It seemed that there were inconveniences everywhere today…

"Thankfully for you, I'm not here to make friends. My question is, what the hell are you doing here at 9:45 AM?

A sharp eyebrow raised at the hostility in the teen's voice. But otherwise there was no reaction to the rude manner in which he was addressed.

"A patient of mine neglected to show up to his weekly session yesterday. I took it upon myself to meet him here instead of my office."

A sneer. "Your office? So you are a shrink? How typical." Dark eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly before the man took two steady steps towards Will. They were planned steps and Will didn't like the fact that his proximity towards the other man was being shortened. He was standing by then, and backed up one step until the back of his knees hit the fountain. He cursed inside his mind.

"I am a psychiatrist. I do not believe my job to be, as your put it, 'typical'. There may be many psychiatrists in the world, but there are few who do their jobs well." The amount of arrogance and self entitlement reminded Will of the teachers from Baltimore HS. He hated people who acted as if they were better than everyone else, like they were born with the ability to stand above others and order them about.

"Hmm. That's pretty arrogant. What, do you think that you're somehow "better" than other people? Do you think that they're below you?"

Dr. Lector's mouth curled upwards into a nearly hidden smile.

"I am merely stating that a 'good' psychiatrist is becoming increasingly more difficult nowadays. If believing in your abilities is arrogant, then I am indeed arrogant. Tell me young man, do you feel superior to those around you?"

Will scowled. He wasn't in the mood to play 21 questions with the doctor. He wanted to sit down by the angel for a while and relax. Doctor Lecter's questions were making that idea difficult.

"Look, I don't really want to be psychoanalyzed right now, Doctor. (He spat the word as it were an exceedingly sour lemon.) Why aren't you with your "Franklyn" friend or whatever?" Will knew he was being rude, but at that point, his headache had gotten so bad that he didn't even care.

Dr. Lecter's eyes narrowed minutely. His lips thinned into a disapproving yet intimidating frown.

"Franklyn is my patient. He is not my friend. Forgive me for the analytical ambush. Observing is what I do, I cannot turn it off any more than you can turn off your aversion to close human contact." The words flowed smoothly out of the doctor's mouth. Will didn't know how the doctor had figured out so much about him in the few minutes they were standing there, but then again he was a psychiatrist.

"Rigghtt. You bring that over emotional patient of yours here to consult rather than at an office? Rather unconventional way of counseling." Will wanted the man to leave. Badly. But this sentence seemed to intrigue the doctor more.

"I have an officewhere I do most of my work and consulting. However, as my patient and I were in the same area, I decided that this would be a convenient place to have our session."

Will ignored this, instead opting to look up at the angel, watching the cascade of water flow out of its hands. Just go away already. Go away. Go away. Go away. He chanted, hoping that if he ignored the doctor enough, he would leave.

The voice continued with a hint of mild curiosity.

"You believe this place to be sacred. You feel that those who are brought here must be worthy to look upon the fountain and that Franklyn was not."

At this, Will let out a deep sigh. Why is he not gone yet?!

"This is understandable. Humans are creatures that seek beauty. Whether that be beautiful paintings, music, or sculptures. It's common human behavior to feel protective over a beautiful object."

Will was done.

"Don't you have something better to do right now?" He snapped.

"On the contrary. I have found myself with an ample amount of free time today." He was so calm it was infuriating.

"Just tell me. Are you going to leave or am I going to have to look for a new place to relax?"

"Relaxing must be difficult for you. You're practically a ball of tension at the moment. Why is that?"

Will growled under his breath and muttered a curse word at the doctor, whose expression didn't change.

"I am calm." His voice a facade to the annoyance he was feeling at the moment.

The Doctor Lecter's gaze flickered to Will's face and caught his eyes. Will looked into the dark eyes and saw amusement mixed with scepticism. He didn't say a word, just took one measured step closer to Will, who involuntarily flinched. The two were now only a few feet apart and Will wished for the first time that the fountain wasn't there. The man standing before him was an imposing figure. Not in a "scary" way, but in the way he held himself so straight, so at attention.

Doctor Lecter didn't take another step, thankfully for Will. Instead, he spoke.

"As I said before, you're a bundle of nerves. You are so tense right now that it looks as if you are going to explode at any second." How dare the man pretend he knows what Will is feeling?

Will didn't answer the question instead he growled, "I don't really give a shit about what you think. Shrink or not, you have no idea what is going on inside my mind. If you're not going to leave, then I will."

He took his eyes off of the dark blue suit and turned to the left, intending to walk straight out of the park and back home. The psychiatrist watched Will depart without saying a word. He stood tall and regal, not moving or making a move to stop him.

A flutter sound caught his ear and watched a crumpled piece of paper fall from Will's hoodie pocket. Hannibal waited until Will was around the hedge to stroll over to the paper and pick it up. As he read it, a smile grew on his face. This game was going to be interesting.

Addendum: I kind of got carried away writing this. I love to write long chapters (and I hate cliffhangers). How is Will's personality in this? I wanted to make him seem like an asshole when he's around adults. He's acting. But I also want to show a naive side of him. (I will be exploring his weaknesses in the later chapters.) Hannibal and Will meet! Yay! Please review! (If you're out there!) I know that Hannibal has been canceled for a while, but I couldn't help writing another fanfiction about it…