"William."

"I prefer Will."

"Will." The man smiled and Will didn't know why, before he gestured to a seat in front of a desk which was covered with neat stacks of papers and envelopes.

Will accepted his gesture and moved forward with tentative steps, until he was slinking into the wooden chair and dropping his school bag on the floor by his feet. Although the man was standing behind him, Will stared straight ahead, eyes focused on a rather obscure painting which hung on the wall in a large gold frame. He had certainly taken advantage of the spare room he had been given as an office.

"I suppose you are wondering why you have been sent here." The man paused briefly, and Will knew he was smiling again. "And who I am, for that matter."

"Yeah, um, who are you?" Will turned his head and shot the stranger a curious look. He was aware that he wasn't being entirely polite, but he had just been pulled from class while he was applying the finishing touches to an essay he had worked extremely hard on and had hoped to hand it in during that session, well before the due date. But, never mind.

"A new addition to this school. Dr Hannibal Lecter. Acting psychiatrist for the school, and your new Psychology teacher." Finally, Dr Lecter walked the distance round the desk, and was now standing opposite Will, his hands resting on the back of the chair he did not proceed to pull out and sit on.

"Acting psychiatrist?" Will couldn't suppress the question from being voiced.

"Yes." It seemed as though Hannibal studied Will for a full minute before continuing. "The post is often disregarded with little importance. I, however, have managed to convince your principal to look into it. Until it is approved officially, I am merely the acting psychiatrist of this school."

Will wondered whether his new Psychology teacher was crazy. Psychiatry in a high school? He'd either be seeing a lot of time-wasters who believed every mood change signalled illness, or perhaps, not even one single student. No one would take it seriously. "So, why did you call me here?"

Hannibal Lecter sighed almost inaudibly, before pulling out the chair and sitting down, setting his hands on the desk and looking at Will in such a professional manner that almost convinced him he had been called here to listen to his punishment for a typical schoolboy crime he had committed. Quickly, he erased the idea from his mind. He hadn't done anything wrong. In fact, he hadn't done anything remotely typical-schoolboy in a long while, apart from the actual work.

"I caught a word with your previous Psychology teacher just days ago, before she left for good. She mentioned you frequently in our conversation." Will could tell that Dr Lecter was dancing around a subject that he believed Will would find particularly sensitive.

"She did?" He retorted, sort of haphazardly, just to give the impression that he would not take offence.

"Yes. She seemed rather concerned about you, for you. She asked me to keep a close watch on you."

"Why is she concerned?" Will wrinkled his nose at the thought. Initially, the gesture was due to the idea that somebody was worried about him when he was perfectly fine. Next, it was the idea that this particular teacher, who had always seemed to snub him, even when he had handed in a piece of work he was proud of, cared. He was seventeen years old and could look after himself. What he had learned just moments ago was almost patronising. His old teacher discussing him with his new teacher, telling him to watch him closely, to look out for him. He shook his head at the thought then glanced at Hannibal, still awaiting his answer.

Dr Lecter tilted his head slightly. Will could feel his eyes burn through him, and he knew that he had already begun his duty of watching him closely. "Apparently you have great talent and potential, Will. I have heard that you would like to pursue some kind of career in Psychology. However, she believes you have, on occasion, shown symptoms of neurosis which you either have an aptitude for ignoring or you cannot deal with by yourself."

"Wow." Will ducked his head and furrowed his eyebrows. He was surprised at Hannibal's blunt words, given his previous reluctance to even begin the conversation. "Why are you telling me this?"

Hannibal nodded, as though he had prepared an answer for that very question hours ago, possibly days ago. "Because I want you to know that, as acting psychiatrist, I am available for conversations, should you need to discuss anything with somebody who may be able to offer help. Or simply, somebody who will listen."

Will wanted to turn his nose up at the offer immediately, but felt that the action would be far too rude. This man was to be his Psychology teacher, as of now. The man who would hopefully ensure his success in the field of the mind. He didn't feel compelled to earn an immediate slot on his bad side.

The conversation ended rather abruptly, with Will standing and thanking his new teacher for the offer. He did, however, decide to decline it as politely as he could. "Thanks, but really, I'm fine. She clearly misread those 'symptoms'." Ignoring the unnerving feeling tugging at his chest when Hannibal smiled at him for the third time, Will grabbed his bag, thanked his teacher one last time, and left the office.

To say he was relieved when he stepped out of the building and began his journey home was an understatement. He relished the cool fall air which fell around him, a contrast to the heat he had felt in Dr Lecter's office, and was glad of the complete isolation which Dr Lecter's last-minute talk had provided for him. The only flaw in this moment was the word "concern" which refused to be swiped from his mind. He was irritated to find himself a topic of conversation, irritated that people who didn't know him assumed things about him, and somewhat irritated that his previous teacher had given his new teacher an instant impression of him, one that excluded him from making it first. Will almost growled at the thought, and had to drag himself home, his steps heavy and not as light as they had been at the very start of the day.

At home, Will finished off the essay Hannibal had interrupted and made himself a barely edible dinner before showering and heading to bed without seeing his father. He was probably working an extra shift. Money was tight and Will often felt guilty for not finding a job himself.

That night, Will Graham dreamt of Hannibal Lecter. The man introduced himself similarly to his actual introduction earlier that day, yet when he offered to help Will, Will had accepted. He found himself wandering into the same office, seemingly with something he intended to talk about, but once he stepped inside, the room had turned from the deep red to a dull grey, and the floor was black and fluid-like, though he could still walk on it. Hannibal Lecter was not in the room like he said he would be. Instead, the painting Will had given just seconds of his attention to that day suddenly fell from its place on the wall, the frame shattering and spurting glass in different directions, barely missing him.

When his alarm clock woke him up, Will could not remember what had happened next in the dream.

Will couldn't shake off the feeling that somebody was watching him. His hands were trembling and his knees felt weak. He rushed to the nearest bathroom and locked himself in a stall, hoping to force himself back to his senses privately. Public scrutiny would only make it more difficult.

He was having another "episode", as he had grown accustomed to labelling the whole thing. These "episodes" seemed to be minor panic attacks which came over him always suddenly and most unwelcome. He couldn't pinpoint what had started this one. He had simply felt a staggering and overwhelming surge of paranoia, to the point he felt sick in his stomach and was concerned for his own safety, as though somebody was chasing him. Will knew that was impossible. There was no body out there who should want to hurt him. And there was no body in this building who would. That was, perhaps, what made the ordeal more frightening. The idea that, perhaps, he was doing the chasing, he was paranoid and he was going crazy.

Still in the stall, he held his face in his hands and put all of his effort and concentration into steadying his ragged breathing which caused his chest to heave. It only dawned on him that he was late to class when he managed to catch his breath. To save the embarrassment of walking in late and being questioned, he decided to skip the lesson altogether and wandered in the direction of the school library instead. He passed Dr Lecter's office on his way and briefly wondered whether he was in there, to the point of considering knocking on his door. What for? To tell him about what had just happened? No way. Besides, he had refused the teacher's offer a week ago, and the older man had not mentioned it to him since, though Will was sure he caught him watching him during their lessons over the past few days. The invitation had probably expired by now, and turning up at the office to discuss anything he pleased was probably now out of the question.

In the library, he found an empty table in one of the corners of the room and dumped his bag on the floor. He spent five minutes scanning different books and moving from shelf to shelf, until he came across a book that would suffice as a distraction until the period ended and it was time for his last class of the day, Psychology.

Unlike most of his classes, he wasn't dreading this one, and it had improved greatly since his old teacher had been replaced. She was the type who would take her bad mood out on the class or whoever happened to be there at the time. And the type who picked out the flaws in somebody's work rather than the positives. The amount of times he had worked hard on something and rarely received a comment in return irked him. Constructive criticism would have been appreciated if she couldn't muster a single nice word. And she had the nerve to comment on his mental health.

Will had spent most of his time in the library seething over his previous Psychology teacher and little time reading the book he had picked out. He returned it to its place on the shelf, before taking his bag and leaving the library.

As expected, he reached the classroom before any other student was there. The bell had not sounded out yet to indicate the end of one lesson and the start of the next, but it was only moments away. He walked straight into the room and made his way to his desk which was close to the front and jumped when he noticed Hannibal standing towards the back of the room. He had assumed that Dr Lecter had not yet arrived, like the students, thinking he was teaching another set of students in a different classroom.

"Hello, Will. Sorry to startle you."

Will laughed dryly, just to be polite and shook his head. "Not your fault. I thought I was alone." He mentally noted how this was their second one-to-one conversation since their initial introduction in Hannibal's office.

"You're early." Dr Lecter commented. His tone was somewhat interrogatory, and Will knew that he was after an explanation.

"Yeah, my class finished up earlier than usual." He lied easily and took his seat.

Although probably only a minute or two, the time he spent waiting for the bell to ring dragged. The silence Will and Dr Lecter shared in the room together was intense. Or it was to Will, anyway. Hannibal had moved to sit at the front of the classroom behind his own desk, and was thumbing his way through a booklet which Will guessed had something to do with lesson plans. Will just watched him but had his head tilted in case his teacher happened to look back, so he could look away quickly and prove himself innocent of staring.

Something tugged at him internally, pushing him to say something about the episode he had experienced earlier, causing him to miss his lesson. It was merely one of many episodes he had experienced, and one of many yet to come. It was inevitable and it scared him. Just as he opened his mouth, Hannibal looked at him, as though he had been waiting and could sense that he was about to reveal something, but just as suddenly, students began to file in quickly, walking between their gaze and breaking it.

Once they cleared, Will saw that Hannibal was still looking at him, but he looked away quickly. It wasn't in him to say what he had wanted to say now - he couldn't anyway, not now the rest of the class had arrived.

Will expected the lesson to drag and to change his mind on the improvement made by his old teacher's departure, however, Dr Lecter managed to make it fairly entertaining and Will was somewhat disappointed when the end of the lesson came about. He purposely rushed when he packed his things away and as soon as the bell sounded, he was the first to leave the room, wanting to avoid confrontation if Dr Lecter had the incident from earlier on his mind.

"How was school?"

Will was playing with his food, deep in thought, but looked up at the sound of his father's voice. He hurried to collect his thoughts. "It was fine." He ignored the truth, deciding not to go through his whole day and routine ("had to go through the day on just 3 hours sleep from the night before. Had a mild panic attack during the day and had to calm myself down in a toilet stall. Was about to tell the school's acting psychiatrist about the whole thing, but didn't want to be diagnosed as crazy"). His father had enough on his mind to worry about the tricks that Will's own mind was playing on him. He had to deal with this himself.

That night, Will finished a piece of Psychology work which was only due within the next week, but he couldn't help himself. Not only did he want to make a good impression on his new teacher (if only to clear the already-muddied impression Dr Lecter had, thanks to a certain teacher), but he found the topic interesting and couldn't stop writing once he had started. He undressed, showered, then fell onto his bed and into a deep sleep which was only interrupted once at the sound of an animal outside of his window. He turned his lamp on and looked through the window, down into the garden. He saw nothing, and reflected on the fact that he had heard two cats fighting the night before and it was probably those two again. For the rest of the night, he slept soundly and woke for school at 6.30 the next morning, mind rested and empty. No single recollection of a nightmare.