Outside it was calm and quiet, but inside Will's head the silence was deafening. He sat on the bed in his cell and counted the black spots that were on the ceiling, tapping the bed sheet with his fingers as he did. He counted and re-counted because he had to. Because he had to keep the thoughts away, had to keep the silence reining in his head.

Throughout his years working for the FBI, he had seen more than his share of atrocities. And he had seen and talked to the people responsible for them. But to be accused of doing something as horrific as murder was something else entirely. No one could prepare to deal with such a situation. So once the bars clicked shut on his cell and reality came crashing down on him, Will's mind went into overdrive.

It was now three months since he had been charged with murder. And these three months Will had spent them all in his head. He was surprised just how easily he moved from one mood to the next. Most days he had to deal with every fiber of his being yelling at him that he was a monster and that he didn't belong in this world. During the off days, the voices would quiet down just a little, offering him a bit of peace and silence in his mind space. It wasn't much and it never lasted long enough, but during those times he tried to get some sleep. Only to wake up screaming.

A million voices stung him, demanding answers he didn't have, questioning every decision he had taken, ever since he had met Jack Crawford. Another side of him shouted for the voice to stop blaming him because he was innocent. But he had no proof of that. The battle went on for days, Will swaying from one side to the other, not sure what to do or think. The struggle quickly took over and he felt as if he would split in half if he couldn't come to an answer.

But when no answer came, Will had to do something to keep from going mad. So he shut down. Most people fell in a comfortable numbness once they realized they were depressed. But Will had just fallen. He had fallen and he had no idea how to climb back up to normality. And until he could figure out how to accomplish such a task, he had decided to just sit in inertia.

-o-

Winter had come and gone, and the snow was slowly being replaced by rain and chilly winds. March was rumored to be a time of halcyon weather and rebirth, but Spring rarely rose to these expectations. The sky was just as cold as it was in winter, and the chilly winds made it a point to sting whenever they touched skin.

But Will enjoyed feeling the cold breeze and the occasionally dark mornings. He enjoyed them because they made him feel like he was back home on his porch, calling for his dogs to return once the evening began to creep in. He often kept his eyes closed when they were allowed in the courtyard, trying to recapture that feeling. But now he was forced to face reality, even if he knew that would accomplish nothing. He was stuck in the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane no matter what he did or said or thought.

Any yet people still insisted on pestering him for interviews. He usually declined talking to anyone because he had come to be indifferent how the media portrayed him these days. And he had always refused meeting Dr. Lecter after the first time he came for a visit. But now he found that he couldn't just say no to this particular visit.

Will opened his eyes and, for the flicker of a moment, looked at Dr. Bloom. It was the first time since he had been locked up that she had requested they spoke, and Will wasn't sure why. So he said nothing, content to just stare at the canopy of trees several yards behind her. He didn't even try to gauge her emotions. He was too tired for that.

"So I heard that you stopped reading lately" she said cautiously.

It looked like they were back to tip-toeing around each other like casual acquaintances. Will wasn't surprised.

"They ran out of books that interest me" he said finally. It was a lie, but he preferred lying to explaining that he was quickly losing the motivation to do anything.

"Jack said that he could make arrangements. So that we'll be allowed to send you some proper reading material."

"That's very kind of him."

Will's eyes never left the sight behind her, waiting for whatever it was Alana was there to say. It was stupid to assume she was only there for pleasantries. Jack had sent her. Will was sure of it. As he waited for her to finally break the awkward silence that was building between them, he realized that his apathy was bordering on rudeness. This wasn't him. But then again, Will had never spent three months in a mental institution for criminals before.

"Listen, Jack asked me to talk to you."

Will just nodded absentmindedly.

"The team and him are working on a difficult case and they really need a break. The team says it's close to impossible to solve, and Jack wants your take on it."

Will frowned. He couldn't decide which part of that sentence sounded more ridiculous. "Did Jack somehow forget that he accused me of murder and got me thrown in a mental institution?"

"Will, this situation is difficult for all of us, but-"

"For all of you? Well I'm sorry that my incarceration is such a burden for everyone. I'm sure I can't imagine what it's like."

Alana's gaze softened and she made a move to place a hand on his shoulder. Before he was even aware of it, Will instinctively moved out of the way.

"If Jack is doing this because he wants to ease his guilt, then I want nothing to do with this case" he said.

"This isn't about guilt, Will. This is about a murderer who's already killed half a dozen people in a month and a half."

"That's irrelevant. I can't agree to this because I'm not in the right state of mind."

"That doesn't matter. Jack just wants some help, someone to point him in the right direction."

"Then why didn't Jack come here to talk to me himself?"

Alana suddenly fell quiet. For someone who studied psychology, she could sometimes be so easy to read.

"So it is a little bit about the guilt" Will said.

Alana took a moment to recollect herself. "You know that we're all really sorry that this happened."

"Well why wouldn't you. Seeing a colleague turn into a murderer under everyone's noses. It must be a real hit to everyone's reputation as a cop."

Alana looked uncomfortable, and sat up after a moment. "I'm sure Jack will understand why you wouldn't want to help him." She made a move to leave.

"I'm sorry" Will said suddenly, and Alana stopped in her tracks. "I shouldn't act like this when you don't deserve any of the grief."

"No, it's fine, I should just go."

"I'll think about it. Helping Jack, I mean."

A small smile appeared on her lips. "That's good. I'll let him know."

"You can also tell him that he doesn't have to hide from me. I'll be civil."

"I'm sure he doesn't think any different."

But Will knew he did. Of course he did. Jack had been the one to bring him back into the world of violent crimes and he had pushed Will to keep going even when his mind was starting to slip away from reality. And now Jack had to face the monster he had inadvertently created, and quite possibly ask him to jump down into the lion's lair yet again. Will surprised himself when he felt a bitter smile tug at the corner of his lips. Jack was many things, but a quitter he wasn't.

When Will refocused his attention back to the present, he realized Alana was long gone. And he suddenly felt annoyed with himself. This always seemed to happen to him. He was just so busy being in his own head that all manner of things and people just passed him by. And by the time he could get himself to focus again, it was already too late. The world moved too fast for him.

Will rose from the bench he had been sitting on when he felt a large shadow land on him. A large man dressed in uniform escorted him back inside the building. And as soon as he stepped foot past the threshold, Will felt the silence come over him once again.

-o-

Two days. Two days had passed since Alana's visit and the last time he had heard from the outside. Will was on edge.

He never really expected the people overseeing him to actually agree with Jack's decision of temporarily letting him out, but a small part of him still hoped. And he hated himself for that. Because Will had spent three months meticulously training his mind to block out and repress everything to do with the incident that got him in prison and everything to do with the outside world. And now Jack was quietly chipping away at his wall. Will didn't want to deal with the hope that things could change for him.

But he needed a distraction. And until (or if) the prospect of going outside again would pan out, Will returned to counting the spots on the ceiling. He had almost reached number twenty-seven when he heard footsteps closing in. He sat up in his bed and saw Dr. Vogler, the psychiatrist appointed to him, walking over with two men in uniform. The visit seemed odd to Will, since he knew their sessions were at the start of the week, and now it was Wednesday. This wasn't good.

"Mr. Graham" he said in his usual calm voice, "I've heard about the unusual request Agent Crawford has made, and I've discussed it at length with the superiors here."

Will realized that he was holding his breath.

"We understand that you'd need to be released for a while, under constant supervision, so that you could work on the field. And we've decided that we could lend the police a hand, provided that you agree to another session with me, as well as a few tests to prove that you're reasonably stable."

Wonderful, Will thought, more poking a prodding into his head, as if they hadn't already breached his mind already. Despite the resentment he had for the entire facility and Jack, Will was surprised when he heard himself quickly agree.

-o-

Dr. Vogler's office was small and cold. Not only temperature-wise but also in the manner in which he had decorated the area. Which is to say that there weren't many decorations to speak of. There was only the desk with two chairs, a bed meant for consulting the patients, and a sink tucked into a corner. No pictures. No vases with flowers. Nothing. This type of visual usually instilled Will with feelings of anxiety. The office was just too sterile.

He sat on the chair before the desk, as he had so many times before, and fixed his eyes on the pen holder. Even though he'd never admit to it, Will had developed a great dislike for Dr. Vogler. Will just couldn't stand talking to someone who handled all his cases as if they didn't matter.

"So how are you feeling?" Dr. Vogler asked, sounding somewhat bored.

After dealing with so many psychiatrists in his life, Will had come to hate that question. There was never a right answer for it, but it always came up at every single session.

But he had an answer that seemed to be satisfy most psychiatrists."Better."

"Mm-hmm" Dr. Vogler said, looking through a stack of papers in front of him. "And how's your sleep? Still fragmented by nightmares?"

"They've become fewer and farther between. I don't dream much nowadays."

That was a lie, but Will knew there was no way they could verify that. Everyone was just glad that he had stopped waking up screaming - disturbing other inmates' sleep in the process - and just assumed he was doing fine. But the nightmares were still there, sneaking into his dreams every night. What bothered Will the most was that he had gotten used to them.

"That's good" Dr. Vogler said. "I've talked about with a few colleagues and we think some socialization with people from the outside could really benefit you. And if you can actually work with the police, then all the better. The question is, do you feel ready to take such a step?"

Will had already rehearsed his answer in his head. And since this pertained to being social, he moved his fixed eyesight from the pen holder to Dr. Vogler's forehead. From a couple of feet away, that usually looked like Will was attempting eye contact. Which the doctor would vastly appreciate, given Will's aversion to such a thing.

"I think I've stabilized quite a bit since I've been here" Will said, trying to sound sincere, "definitely an improvement over how I felt when I arrived. I can focus without feeling like I'm losing myself, and I think I could work with the police on their case."

"But do you carry resentment towards the people that sent you here?"

Will dug his fingernails into his palm. "Not as much as I used to."

"I just find it hard to understand why you'd agree to help them after all that you've been through."

"Because I'm not guilty. I was framed. I'm not a murderer and if I can help them catch someone who is, then I want to do it. I want to prove I'm not the man they think I am."

Will stopped to take a breath, trying to keep from getting angry. He couldn't let the wall he had arduously built to crumble. Not now. Especially not in front of someone who was analyzing him like a bug under a magnifying glass.

Dr. Vogler smiled, taking him by surprise. "I like that you seem to have a positive attitude about this. How do you feel about working with Mr. Crawford? After all, he's the one who pulled you back into the field."

"I like to think that we can both be professional around each other and we'll be able to work together." Another rehearsed answer, but Dr. Vogler didn't seem to pick up on it.

"Nicely said. Now here's something I want you to do while you'll be out there. Every day I want you to pick one aspect of your life that you're thankful for." When Will opened his mouth to reply, Dr. Vogler raised a hand and stopped him. "Now I'm aware that your situation doesn't inspire many feelings of gratitude, but I'm sure you can find something. Even something as small as, let's say... a nice cup of coffee. Whenever you'll feel like you're slipping just latch onto that aspect and tell yourself that there are still things in this world that can bring you a little bit of stability."

Will sighed inwardly. It was never tricks that kept the monsters at bay, it was hard work and a lot of time spent building forts. But he knew that he had to agree and nod along.

"Now I'm sure you've heard that you'll have two police officers guarding you at all times" Dr. Vogler said, "and since the last time you were alone with two officers you managed to hurt them, the rules are slightly altered now. Mr. Crawford can't spare anymore men, but he instructed the two available ones to shoot on sight if you ever show signs of violent behavior. How do you feel about that?"

Will suddenly felt the old gunshot wound in his shoulder start to itch. He hated the idea of always being in someone's crosshairs, but it wasn't like he had much of a choice. "Sounds... reasonable."

"You don't seem very convinced of what you're saying."

"Maybe the first step to believing something is saying it out loud."

Dr. Vogler smiled."That's rather admirable. But I don't want you to push yourself too much. The moment you feel strained or overwhelmed I want you to back off. Mr. Crawford isn't the one who's calling the shots anymore, all right? Just say the word and we'll pull you out of the field."

"I think I'm ready" Will said, though even he couldn't quite believe it.

-o-

Doubt came back swarming in his head that night. There was no way he could be doing this. It was insane that he was allowing himself to see those atrocities again just so he could have a small taste of freedom. He was going to crack again, but this time his outburst would be ten times as worse because of the thick walls he had placed around his mind.

But he couldn't turn back now, and a part of him needed for him to do this. Will wanted to spend one day outside the grey walls and the fenced and barbed courtyard. He wanted something normal because being stuck in a cell was driving him up the wall.

Maybe he would be allowed to see his dogs again. Just for a minute. Will pushed that thought out of his mind the moment he felt his eyes sting.

He awoke the next day mid-afternoon, after a long night of little sleep. Will rose from his bed and tried to remember if in the two hours he slept he had any nightmares. But if any nightmares had seeped into his head that night, then he couldn't remember. He could just add those to the other nightmares collecting at the back of his mind, bubbling just beneath his conscious self, and deal with them later. At this point Will was used to dealing with the monsters as they escaped from where he had tried to lock them.

A couple of men he didn't know stopped by the cell a few hours later and left a bag at his feet. They told him to get dressed because he was going to be picked up by a car in a few minutes. Will felt hazy as he inspected the contents of the bag. There were proper, normal clothes inside. A light blue shirt, a pair of pants, shoes even. After being stuck for over sixty days in a green jumpsuit, Will couldn't quite believe he was about to step into some ordinary clothes. Some boring clothes that didn't advertise that he was a prisoner.

He dressed in silence and then perched himself on the end of the bed, waiting. But his wait wouldn't be a calm one because he soon heard protests from the other inmates. They were echoy and often silenced by the guards and, at first, Will couldn't quite understand what they were yelling. But then he realized that disruption had happened because they thought Will's temporary release was unfair.

"The guy's fucking insane!" one yelled, "Didn't ya hear the way he screamed in his sleep when he was thrown in here?"

"He killed like ten people, why the hell are you people letting him go?!"

"If you're letting 'im out then you let us all outta here!"

A few others joined in, adding their own accusations to the mix. Soon enough, the entire cell block was filled by men yelling and chanting, most distorting and exaggerating what Will had done. They all reminded him that he was considered a serial killer.

The guards fruitlessly tried to get them to quiet down, but when they realized that there was no way to stop a dozen inmates from shouting, they stopped bothering at all. Will was left waiting in his cell, his eyes shut tight, feeling the strain on the walls he had created. If there was a time he needed to get out, then this was it. His prayers were answered when the cell block door opened. The inmates didn't quiet down, but Will knew his ticket out of there had arrived.

Jack Crawford stood before his cell, looking as he always did. Tired, serious, but always determined. Despite himself, Will felt incredibly relived to see him. The two only shared a nod as an officer unlocked Will's cell and escorted them outside.

"So how are you feeling, Will?" Jack asked, his tone surprisingly mellow.

"I feel fine. Not exceptionally, but my head feels clearer."

"That's good to hear."

Will wondered if this new calm Jack was his way of apologizing for pushing him too hard and causing him to crack. Will was aware of his own fault in this since he had once refused to quit, despite knowing too well about his own state of mind. But one of the reasons he had decided to keep working was that he didn't want to disappoint Jack.

And now? Now Will hated that there was still a smidgen inside him that wanted to do a good job and make Jack proud. It didn't make sense and it annoyed him. But it was there.

"I talked to Dr. Vogler this morning" Jack said as they walked through the facility. "He sounds pretty optimistic about you."

"A good psychiatrist tends to do that."

Will hoped Jack would catch his little rib aimed at Dr. Lecter. But even if he did, Jack passed right by it. He seemed hell-bent on keeping their conversation in a safe and mundane space.

"Well I talked to Vogler and the team, wondering where you should stay as we work the case."

Will frowned at that. He had assumed that he was only pulled for one day to give his impressions on a scene, not to work an entire case. But he refrained from saying anything about it.

"I don't suppose I could just go back to my house?" Will asked. "That way no one would have to pay for a hotel and I'd still have officers watching my every move there."

"Your house is too far and you'd need someone to drive you there every day. A hotel's easier."

Will nodded. It had been a long shot anyway.

They stopped before a large metal door, leading to the outside. As soon as they did, the officer that had been walking alongside them grabbed Will's wrists, pulled them behind his back, and secured them with a zip-tie.

"Sorry about this" he said, "but it's necessary."

This was because he had pulled the Houdini act and broken his thumb to escape when he was on his way to prison the first time. He could still do it now, but the difference was that the officers traveling with him had been instructed to shoot without hesitation.

They were escorted outside where another man in uniform joined them and lead them down a path to a parked car. Jack entered the driver's seat, while Will found himself crowded on the back seat, between the two officers. It didn't look like they were taking any chances with him this time.

The drive was long and boring. Will knew Jack wouldn't tell him about the case because he'd want Will to regard it all with fresh eyes. And after half an hour of nothing but road and silence, Will was struggling to keep himself calm. It's not that he was particularly claustrophobic, but being crowded by two men who were more than ready to shoot him if he made one mistake was making him frustrated.

He felt caged. Oddly enough, much more than when he was in his cell, because in his cell he at least had his own space. But there and then he was watched like a hawk. Any form of privacy had gone out the window. As long as he'd be working on the case, he wouldn't get to be alone anymore.

The officer on his right sighed and adjusted his position on the seat, unintentionally hitting Will's leg in the process. It was unknown to those in the car, but after all that had happened, Will had grown an aversion to being around people. And being forced to sit in a car with so many was grinding on his mind, in such a way that he was starting to consider telling them to turn back.

This had all been a stupid idea. He couldn't work on the case because he still hated them. He still hated Jack and his team for not believing him, and just letting him sit in that prison cell. Will realized his hands had formed into fists behind his back, and he forced himself to relax. But it was futile. Will began to fidget in his seat.

The cop on his left frowned. "You all right?"

And just like that an idea formed. "My nose is a little itchy."

The man sighed and leaned over to scratch his nose.

"Thanks, but you kind of missed it. Could I just bring my arms forward for a second? I'd still be tied up."

The officer waved his hand as if to say he didn't care, but Will noted he had reached for his firearm.

Will tucked his legs up and then brought his arms from under them, so that they were now in his lap.

And the second they were, Will threw his elbow into the cop to his left. The man yelled and instinctively covered his stomach with his arms. The other cop reacted quickly, but before he did, Will had managed to relieve the other one of his gun. And he pulled the trigger.

The car swerved wildly as soon as the first shot had been fired. The vehicle came to a stop after the second one, but before Jack could reach for his own gun, he found that Will was pointing the Glock at his head. Jack could only look at his face in the rearview mirror.

"I've waited three months to do this" Will said, almost smiling.

Will finally felt like something had been set right as he stared at Jack's shocked expression. Now he knew exactly how Will felt like after he'd been dragged down for something he hadn't done. Completely helpless. An eye for an eye, Will thought. And he pulled the trigger.

The sound of the bullet hitting bone woke him up, and Will found himself in the backseat of the car, two cops on each side, and Jack still driving.

"You fell asleep" Jack said, looking at him for a moment in the rearview. "Still having nightmares?"

"No, it's not that" Will said, maybe a bit too fast. "I was just too nervous to sleep last night."

He leaned back and closed his eyes for a moment, trying to hide his anxiety. It looked like the nightmares had never left him at all.