A/N: Originally posted on ao3 under the pen name youngjusticwriter. Part three in the "If only it was a simple as a reparo to mend our broken teacup." series.

If you have a question about the symbolism feel free to ask. If you understood it kudos to you.

The adolescent with unkept hair blinks his rather vivid green eyes down at him in response to Hannibal's question. They're a color in all his years Hannibal has never seen.

"Oh. Well, shit."

Hannibal's eyes do not narrow nor does his lips twitch downwards at the profanity. Yet something must show because the teenager apologizes before rubbing his face.

"I've had a really bad day and it just became worse," the boy tells him and Hannibal doesn't tell him that he already knows.

The smell of sweat clung to him along with a rather potent aftershave that should be noise wrinkling yet Hannibal can't help but purposely breathe it in. It's comforting to him in a bedroom Hannibal could not recall ever stepping foot in during his life much less falling asleep in.

There's also the dark circles under the teenager's eyes that tell Hannibal that the adolescent isn't just having a bad day but rather some sleepless nights along with a terrible day that has the boy's heatbear reminding Hannibal of a frightened rabbit's.

During the silence between them Hannibal takes in the room they're in. It's a beautiful room, Hannibal can't help but note. The dark paint on the wall is suitable and the furniture in the room compliant it. If push comes to shove there's an untie bow tie that lays thoughtlessly abandoned on the nightstand next to the bed. It's in arm reach and while rather short it's length would suffice if the need arises for Hannibal to use it to choke his ki-

Hannibal never finishes the thought of his first plan of defense because he had noticed the photo on the same nightstand where the tie had been so carelessly discarded.

Despite only being able to see it from the corner of his eye Hannibal notices the oddity of the photo. It's not the fact the photo is of the boy before him, a man, and despite the years that have surely past since what he currently can recall Hannibal can tell the other man in the photo is himself. It's the fact the photo is moving.

The man Hannibal currently can't recall is smiling as he leans in to Hannibal's ear and whispers something that gets Hannibal to genuinely smile as well. How peculiar.

The boy's hair is still a mess in the photo so Hannibal is safe to assume the adolescent's hair is naturally unruly for he doubts that his future self would be okay with the child's hair being a mess (that makes Hannibal figures inch to clean) because he was lazy.

"We're out walking Winston and Fudge," the boy starts to explain what Hannibal is willing to bet is the reason he can not recall the last few years (perhaps several consider the photo is moving) instead of the occasion of the photo since Hannibal can't see a leash any of their hands. That he notes along with the fact his sixth finger is missing from his left hand.

Hannibal frowned uncaring (because he had been smiling) of the boy seeing it because he knew what that meant of his future or rather what happened in his past that Hannibal cannot recall.

"We were attacked. You hit your head protecting dad."

Hannibal once again recalls the smile the stranger (who's most likely the man in the photo the boy called dad) produced from him.

"Who am I to you?"

The boy doesn't seem shocked by how fast Hannibal has caught on despite his amnesia. That only furthers what Hannibal already suspects. He's not sure how he feels about that just like he's not sure how he feels about what his surgery to remove his finger means for him.

"You're my father."

Hannibal nods, already excepting the answer.

"Where's my husband?" He doesn't ask where your father is. Too distant. Too impolite (Hannibal does detest the rude and he can't help but wonder if his family know this or accessories to his new and foreign mask - to his lie. But was it really a lie Hannibal wonders as he stares a the photo as the stranger, his husband, leans in to whisper something that causes a genuine smile to bloom on his face.) for Hannibal's taste despite his amnesia.

"You don't remember dad," his son states. There's a question as well as some alarm in those lovely shade of green that are his eye color but what he just said was not a question. Hannibal feels as though he should feel proud but he doesn't remember the boy. How can one feel proud when they don't know the person who should cause the emotion from them?

"No, I'm sorry I do not."

His son's eyes narrow at him and despite not knowing him Hannibal does feel something akin of being proud instead of knowing he should be proud.

It's nice been seen for what you are after all and nobody sees Hannibal, only the well tailored person Hannibal presents himself as.

"No, you're not," his son bluntly admits the ugly truth for truth like humans (like pigs) was often an ugly thing. "But you are going to be," the boy grimly predicts with small frown on his face.

Hannibal can't wait to find out because doctors were often horrible patients and Hannibal himself was not one to laze about.