Will Graham was a broken man.
It was a usual morning in the Graham household. Will awoke with a startled gasp, pulling himself up roughly from his drenched sheets as his arm grasped his stomach. He felt like he was on fire. Burning. He pulled in deep breaths, the pain shooting from his midsection down his legs and across his chest. He threw back his covers and stumbled to the kitchen, taking care to not step on any tails or paws on the way.
A tall glass of water and a handful of pills choked down later, he found himself standing back over his drowned bed. He was still painfully tired. He had only managed a few hours sleep - more than normal, but still not enough to leave him feeling sated.
It had been three months since that night in the Hannibal household - but it still played fresh in his mind. Will had worked since his release from the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane to grow close to the man who had framed him, in an attempt to earn his trust enough to bring him down. His plan, however, had failed, and Hannibal had seen right through him. He had held Will close, before gutting him and leaving him for dead as he fled the country.
He had survived, although in the grips of night he sorely wishes death had taken him. Jack and Alana had both survived that night alongside him - both sustaining near-fatal injuries. Jack was back on his feet, back in the BAU where he would always be. Alana however was not so lucky, and was bound to a wheelchair, all use of her legs gone. And then there was Abigail.
Oh how he was haunted by Abigail.
Sleep rarely found him - every time he closed his eyes the vision of her bleeding out in his arms swam before him. The smell of blood still held strong in his nose, causing him to gag. He would watch with wide eyes as hers fluttered shut, never to open again. He would feel her grow cold in his arms, and feel his heart shatter into a thousand pieces. He would be ripped from his occasional slumber sweating and sore, the scar on his stomach tight and knotted with his exerted breath.
He shook all remnants of his dreams from his head, making quick work of the soaked sheets before heading into the bathroom. He bypassed the mirror without a glance, not wanting to start the day seeing his unshaven sunken face, eyes dull above dark circles, hair untamed and unruly. He made quick work of the shower, hands skimming over his lean frame while taking care to avoid the thick scar stretching from hip to hip. He accepted that it was there, but thinking about it just brought back too many memories of Hannibal.
After his shower and a quick breakfast, he found himself standing on his porch watching as his dogs bounded around in the grounds outside. He was thankful for their company - in the few weeks since his release from hospital, they had been his only company. He had not returned to work as a lecturer at the bureau, and he certainly wasn't helping to put anyone behind bars.
Not that there were many monsters as dangerous as Hannibal to worry about.
He spent the rest of the day pottering around his house, doing odd chores, with a trail of dogs following him from room to room. He still had enough money set aside from his work with Jack to keep him going for a while so his days were his to do with as he pleased. Most of his time was now spent fixing old boat engines to sell on for spare cash to renovate his house - a task he felt necessary to fully put the past behind him and make a new start in his life.
By the time that night fell, Will felt dead on his feet. His lack of sleep the night before coupled with his day up on his feet had left him drained, more so than usual. He dragged his hand over his face as he moved into the kitchen to the counter where his medications sat. He sifted through the bottles, finding his painkillers and sleeping aides. Noticing that the bottles were almost empty he made a note to stop by the pharmacy the next day to replenish. He could always visit Alana while he was at it.
That night, he fell into a fitful sleep - hoping that tonight would be the night that his nightmares would end. But deep down he knew that it would never happen.
"Be good, I won't be gone long" Will said quietly, rubbing Winston behind his ear. He now spent so much time with his dogs that they had separation issues; whenever he would try to leave they would all crowd around him, blocking his way to his car.
Winston rubbed his wet nose into Will's palm before lapping at the fingers. Will faintly smiled, and with one last scratch behind the ears, he left his home and began the hour long journey into Baltimore.
He didn't have many errands to run while in town; he stopped first at a grocery store to pick up a few items that he had run low on, followed by the pet store to purchase several large bags of dog feed, and now he found himself at the drug store.
There was already a small group of people at the counter, all waiting patiently for their turn. He joined the back of the group with his head low, allowing his thoughts to roam. Present but not present - the way he spent most of his time outside of his home. Minutes trickled by, a few people trickled in and out of the door. He was pulled from his thoughts as a ruckus at the counter began to pick up; some dishevelled looking man leaning heavily on a cane was leaning over the counter shouting at the girl to hurry up with his meds. Even from this side of the room, Will could smell the strong scent of alcohol.
He was about to fade back into himself when the girl behind the counter brought his attention straight back to the man.
"I'm sorry Mr Chilton, but you'll have to wait like everyone else," she said with waning patience.
Chilton. Frederick Chilton. It couldn't be. No one had heard from him in months, and this form in ripped jeans and faded hoodie was far from the self-obsessed man he knew. He watched with bated breath as the man turned from the counter with another complaint on his lips. Will noticed the scar first - a gaping red indent taking over the side of his face - followed by the dark circles beneath his red rimmed eyes. The same eyes that had made contact with his own.
An eerie silence seemed to hang over the pair as recognition flitted over both their faces. Will expelled the breath that he had been holding as his thoughts went into overdrive. This was the last man that he wanted to see; a man just as haunted by Hannibal as he was. But Frederick was the only person he felt would understand him. Someone who had been manipulated by Hannibal, framed by Hannibal, hurt by Hannibal. His time of solitude with no one but his dogs suddenly hit him like a punch in the gut; he was lonely.
With a boost of confidence, he made to step forward to confront Frederick. Unfortunately the other man had anticipated this. Frederick pulled his eyes from Will, and with a quiet mumble to the girl that he would return later, he stumbled out of the drug store without so much as a backwards glance.
And so ends chapter one! First published chapter; I know I have work to do with my writing but hopefully you enjoyed.. Have the next few chapters partially written, but always open for suggestions!
Please leave feedback! Til next time!