Authors Notes: I wrote this story for a friend of mine. C: DarkmoonSigel, if you ever get the chance you should check out her work, everything she writes is really, really good.

Disclaimer: I do not own Hannibal, wish I did, but I don't.

Beta read bySpocktacular!

01: Missed Appointments

Sunday Morning

The coolness of the river soaked through the thigh-high wading boots even though the water itself could not penetrate its thick rubber. In the late autumn weather, ice had already began to form on the quieter parts of the river that ran near Will's house and no number of layered wool socks was going to prevent his toes from numbing while standing in the half frozen river bed.

Despite the cold turning his toes to small feeingless pebbles and leaving his feet feeling as though they had fallen asleep, Will had managed to bring in two bass, their bodies lying still in a bucket on the river's edge. He didn't expect he would be catching too many more, the last few hours having been dedicated to standing still in the quietly rushing water just for the first pair. But still, he'd found the act soothing nonetheless.

Fishing was one of the only things that seemed to calm the Omega, that and his dogs. Flicking the line out across the fast moving water, feeling the wire fly through the feel and the lure quietly splash through the surface in search of fish, Will couldn't feel more at peace than he did then. Not that he could enjoy it nearly as much as he had only a few months before; finding the time to allow himself the luxury was becoming a more difficult task with each passing day, Jack milking every ounce of physical and mental strength from the empathy with more frequent cases.

Jack had pulled him from his quiet life of teaching and fishing to turn him into killers and force the blood of their victims upon him. Changing his only semi-regular habit of night terrors and heavy sweating to a near nightly occurrence; nightly when he did manage to sleep. He might not have had the most peaceful sleeps before he'd been pulled back into the field but at least he could still have the occasional easy night's rest. Now there was barley hope of receiving even a few measly hours.

Will knew that he could get away from it all if he really wanted to, there was more than one way for him to escape the minds of killers and blood, to retire himself from the FBI permanently. He could always quit, it was an option, though one that Jack was doing his damn best to make the empath avoid by guilting him with the knowledge that every death his 'skill set' could have prevented would forever rest on his shoulders. But the man could do nothing if he were to show his true gender.

Since his first awkward heat, a messy three days of puberty Will had tried his best to forget, he had been hiding his sex by way of illegally obtained heat suppressants and a bottle of cheap cologne mixed with Beta pheromones. Though Omega's rights had improved drastically since the days of ownership, Omega's all but being chained to their Alpha's bed not so many years ago, they were still unable to take any work relating to law enforcement or the military. Being primarily an Alpha's profession Omega's were seen as a liability and distraction in both fields, their presence frowned upon even in the less hostile environments of medicine and hospitality. Though their rights to work and provide for themselves were slowly growing, the idea of an Omega working was still looked down upon by most of society, the gender generally expected to become homemakers once a proper mate had been found.

If Will was ever discovered to be an Omega he would never be allowed out in the field again, something that might save his mental state in the long run, but riddle him with guilt in the knowledge of what he could have prevented if only he'd stayed in the field.

Which brought him to this: regular visits to a psychiatrist he had never wanted. Though if he were to be honest with himself Will would have to admit that of everyone he knew Hannibal was probably the only one who understood what it was like for him to live day in and day out with his particular cocktail of aspergers, autism, and an over-active imagination; taking two small bi-colored pills twice a day to keep himself from exposing his gender and only half enjoying his first weekend off in over a month, fishing and freezing to try and rest his bloodied mind, thanks to the more creative murderers of their time finally taking a break.

Ready to call it a day, Will grinned as first a tug and then a pull came to his line, stopping him from his retreat to battle another fish for it's right to life. Reeling and pulling he concentrated on the taught line playing tug-of-war. With numb feet Will tried to find better footing in the riverbed, the thick rubber soles of his boots sliding over a water grass covered rock, effectively dropping him into the icy river. Spluttering a curse as he pulled himself back to the surface, Will floundered to grab his rod before the current could take it away. Grinding his teeth at the loss of a fish and lure Will reeled in the empty string.

Grousing that he would have to hike back to his house soaking wet Will missed the small bottle of bicolored pills bobbing in the slow-moving river water as it disappeared downstream.

Monday Afternoon

It had been a long day, longer than most thanks to Franklyn's insistence to cover his table with dirty tissues; the notion of giving the neurotic man a referral quickly changing from temptation to necessity with each passing week. It was something Hannibal was loath to admit he was having more than a little difficulty with. Upon mentioning the idea of taking an additional patient to a number of colleagues in passing he had discovered that the man was infamous within the world of Psychology. The three members of his profession he had approached all politely declining the moment Franklyn's name had been presented.

If things continued the way they were he would be forced to kill the man just to be rid of him, though none of his remains would ever make it to Hannibal's fridge; the notion of putting any part of the irritant into his body left a sour taste on his tongue.

Franklyn, having never been a pleasantry to any part of Hannibal's day, was hardly a factor to ruining his afternoon. He was more than used to dealing with his nature and capable of brushing off the annoyance he brought with him. No, Franklyn would not be the ruin of his day; however, the absence of a certain Beta might. Will Graham was running fifteen minutes late for his scheduled appointment. Due for 7:30 and with a record of punctuality the Alpha more than appreciated, the sudden absence of the Beta left Hannibal feeling a little worried for his empath. He was, after all, the only interesting patient amongst his little flock of sheep.

Waiting another fifteen minutes to be sure that Will had, in fact, skipped his appointment and was not instead trapped somewhere in traffic, Hannibal pulled the mobile phone from his pocket and selected the name William Graham from his contacts, allowing the string of numbers to dial.

It didn't even ring before going to voice mail. His phone was either dead, off, or out of a serviceable area. He could be at work, Hannibal mused, pulled by Jack to examine a case and being forced to turn off his cell phone while attempting to re-live a crime scene, though he had always called in the past whenever Jack pulled him away, rescheduling his appointment for a later hour the few occasions that had occurred. It was more likely that the man's phone had died, given his record for self-care Hannibal highly doubted that the man would take much care of his possessions, or he had forgotten about his appointment all together and had gone home, though the latter had also never occurred.

Troubled he tried Jack Crawford next, dialing the authoritative Alpha's number and receiving an answer upon the third ring.

"Jack Crawford." Came the clipped answer; it made Hannibal smile, telling him that the man was dealing with another difficult case.

"Good evening Jack," Hannibal said, the edge of his thin lips pulling at the corners in mirth at the man's irritation. It had been two days since his last kill, the police being slower in finding it than usual; he hoped it was his gift that had crawled under the man's skin. He wouldn't mind Will's absence if the empath was busy re-creating one of his own masterpieces during their allotted time. The idea of Will wondering the fields of his mind re-creating his art was exotic and beautiful in ways that made a heat swell in his loins he almost never felt. "Will did not show up for his appointment today, I was curious if perhaps you had him working on another case, something that might have his cell phone out of range."

"You won't be able to get him on his cell phone, he's in Wolf Trap." He sounded angry. "Will called in sick today, odd for him, he never looks good but he never calls in." And that would answer the man's irritated mood. They had most likely found the body and now could not get his favorite profiler out of bed to examine the case.

Pity, Hannibal thought. It had been designed so specifically for him. The face, hair, teeth, fingers, toes and eyes removed from the victim in question before being displayed. Dehumanized to a pig for the slaughter and left unidentifiable for Will to feel more separated from the victim and more connected to Hannibal. He wouldn't be able to get a feel for the woman who had been killed because there was nothing left of her to show will who she may have been before her death. If they ever wished to find the name of the poor deceased they would have to try and match her by DNA samples to any missing girl reports that came in. It would be a tedious and expensive task for the FBI to undertake and one that Hannibal was sure Jack would waste the time and energy on if only because they were a victim of the Chesapeake Ripper.

"Sick?" Hannibal himself was not sure how much of the concern in his voice was feigned for the officer on the other line. "Perhaps I will pay him a visit. He has not been in the best of health as of late, though I had not been expecting him to take a day for himself."

"I think that would be wise Doctor Lector, please, let me know how he's doing when you get back. He hasn't answered any of my calls and I have a difficult case I need him to look at." And there it was; the underlining need for Will.

"Is it the Ripper?"

"I think so, but I want Will to take a look before I say yes to anything, this one is a little different than the others, I need him to look at it, see if it's the Ripper or our Copy-Cat."

Because he'd never taken their faces before, never left such an intimate present for Will "I'll see what I can do, perhaps if he is feeling up to it, I can take him myself to the crime scene long enough for a profile before returning him home."

"That would be appreciated. I'll text you the address, let me know if he's up to the run, I'll meet you there if he is."

"Of course." Because what could possibly be better than witnessing Will's reaction to his gift.

During the long drive out to Wolf Trap Hannibal tried to think of what sickness could possibly prevent Will from answering his phone or coming to a case; the man having worked through hallucinations, nausea, sleep deprivation and a perpetual migraine for the last few months. It was a true mystery in itself, but one he would soon have the answer to.

Parking the expensive Bentley next to Will's older paint faded beater, Hannibal carefully gathered a container of homemade not-chicken noodle soup he'd only half-rushed before closing the car and knocking twice on the weathered front door. He was neither surprised nor insulted when Will did not come to answer. If he was in fact home sick, with his room most likely on the upper level, he would not be bothering to come downstairs and greet Hannibal any time soon. If he was not detoured by the knowledge of having to scale the stairs a second time in order to reclaim his bed then the notion of basic social interaction would most certainly keep him rooted to cotton sheets.

Knowing that the man would at least be aware of his presence, if only by the dogs, Hannibal let himself in; Will would certainly forgive his intrusion once he realized that he had only come looking for the Beta out of concern when he had made himself unreachable after skipping his appointment.

Hannibal only made it over the thrush before dropping the container of soup, the thick broth and chunks of vegetables and meat spilling across hard wood and carpet, splashing the edges of his trousers and shoes.

Hannibal had not been expecting this, had not prepared himself for the possibility of it.

He could feel his pulse quicken as the scent filled his lungs, knew his eyes were blown with lust though there was no mirror to be seen in the light-deprived house, could feel the tightening of his pants as he began to enter an unexpected rut.

Will was an Omega, a very potent, unbound Omega.

And he was in heat.