Note: Thank you for all the feedback, I really appreciate it. Hopefully this next chapter is also okay xx
Warnings: Still none.
The light tie adorning his neck seemed to contrast with the whiteness of his shirt, somehow emphasising quite how confident his walk was when he narrowly avoided one of the passing individuals. Already there were plenty of rumours surrounding him, people struggling to understand him to the point that they had to make things up to justify the falterings in their logic.
He was well tended to well past the point of necessity, hair never out of place and sharp eyes never seeming to not see what was going on around him. Like some form of a predator he already had a reputation for not accepting anything but the best, seemingly enjoying watching his students struggle as much as humanly possible as a bit of 'character building'. Information about his past was as unknown as why on earth someone like him would ever choose to be a teacher. There seemed to be no set answer and the answers that had been proposed were… simply amusing.
In the end there seemed to be three types of reasons that had been accepted as to why he was a teacher in such a small school: One, he was a serial killer on the run and he thought the police would never take the time to check all the little areas. Two, he was a serial killer looking for his next victims to find and cook. Or there was the third group who genuinely didn't care as long as at some point they got to see him with less layers on. Unsurprisingly enough the people in that group tended to be the same praying Will would have another nervous breakdown so he'd sleep walk into school again.
Abigail was one of very few who didn't fall into either, finding Doctor Lecter (who oddly enough didn't teach anything she'd ever thought a doctorate was necessary for) interesting in a different manner. He tended to slip between personas with ease, going from an easy and charming smile to emotionless with steel eyes within a second if he so wished. It was perhaps that one trait that had fed rumours as to what and who he really was- even she had to admit that there were plenty of things that didn't make sense. But as she watched the man glance over the other teachers as though studying them as intently as he studied his food she had to admit he wasn't the sort she would want to anger.
Hannibal's nails tapped on his elbow, impatience evident even though it never reached his face. He did not seem the sort who let his emotions damper what he chose to do. If boredom meant meeting an end target then there was very little doubt that he would go through with it with very little ease.
It must be lonely though, Abigail considered to herself, to be so utterly depended on getting things done that there was nothing else in his life. There was no ring on his finger, no pictures on his desk and from what she had heard his home was large but mostly empty, not even a pet wondering around with him. At least Mr Graham never had a lack of company when he was at him small little house, everyone having heard of his collection of strays. Like had been said before, it was probably pure empathy with the unwanted creatures that kept Will taking them in with little hesitation.
To be needed was, in a sense, to be wanted and it didn't take much to see how very much Will wanted to be wanted if only just for once. His fluctuating sanity was both the derivative and the source of his loneliness.
No such things seemed to counter in Hannibal's choices. He was by no means seeming to struggle with socialising, he seemed to know exactly what others wanted to say even before they did and not once had he seemed surprised. Nothing slipped past his perfect mask and when it did it was only because he allowed it to. As though he was some form of a close parallel to Will: Will's brief losses of control the reason so many stayed away without him ever meaning it fully and Hannibal's perfect grip on his own sanity intentionally keeping the world further than arm's distance.
Then again, maybe she was completely wrong. Such men were impossible to read when it was Hannibal's eyes that seemed mad and Will's that seemed so painfully sane it made others view him as mad. If that were the case then Abigail had to admit she'd much rather be completely mad and believe herself to be completely sane.
(A 'Catch 22' if she remembered correctly.)
(Not that having a name for it alleviated any of the tragedy of it. It was likely growing up was a process of hardening to such things, not maturing in what views you have of them.)
It didn't matter. She couldn't let it matter to her.
When Hannibal's sharp eyes moved to her, somehow showing in their casual manner that he had been aware she was watching him, all Abigail did was offer an embarrassed smile. "Morning Doctor Lecter." She settled for scurrying off as though no more than an awkward squirrel quickly running back up a tree rather than admitting the other seemed greatly amused by having caught her out.
"Morning Miss Hobbs." He said simply, tone as perfectly composed as always as his gaze returning to studying what was going on around them. Matters such as students desperately trying to work him out were hardly more than inconveniences, amusing as they were it they were hardly worth much focusing on.
As Abigail left though all he did was resist the urge to sigh to himself, the loss of control that would take too much for someone who focused on keeping himself so collected. Soon Hannibal resumed his walking, shoes soundless on the floor and lips barely curved as he kept his mind focused on as many things as he could do. Ignoring any and all staring it caused he offered a larger smile as he spotted the man sitting outside the principal's office.
His own meeting was well over an hour away but seeing that he didn't have a first lesson to teach so he might as well see who had the appointment before him. There was no real surprise though as Hannibal moved to take the seat opposite the other, letting the small space left between the two chairs keep them far enough that Will wouldn't be uncomfortable.
"Unless you have an appointment at the same time I do, I'm assuming you simply enjoy being early." Will's tone was as dry as he could make it, eyes remaining on his book rather than looking up and making sure the other was indeed who he thought he was. "That or I've missed something."
"No, you've missed nothing." Hannibal said just as plainly, lips still barely curved enough to cause more than the smallest line on the corner of his lip. "I have an appointment with Crawford after you do- to see if I'm getting the hang of things yet or if I'm ready to cook my students rather than try to teach them already."
Will's lips almost seemed to curve, tired eyes almost moving up from the book he was clearly not reading. "It would certainly make some of them more likely to listen. We have several students in common from what I've heard during my class." He seemed bemused if anything. "You've had quite the effect on several of the students."
"So I'm told." So he had also noticed. It was easy enough to notice when a bunch of walking hormones and testosterone were looking at him as though he was one of the dishes he'd prepared. Which was a compliment seeing he was fully aware of quite how delicious what he prepared look- especially the pieces he'd had fun hunting himself. "As have you from the odd gaze following you around."
"You mistaken disgust and lust, Doctor Lecter. Which is worrying from the psychological point of view and any other one I can think of." Will didn't try to explain what his reaction was at the more honest smile that briefly moved over the home economics teacher's face.
A pause where Hannibal tapped a steady rhythm on his knee, looking around again. "I'm sure that by the end of a one night stand they often may appear the same- it's easy enough to mix up such basic emotions when you're focusing on other things."
"Not one for lasting relationships?" The reply was quick, easy, his curiosity a little more genuine than he may have liked.
"Not one for eye contact?" Hannibal asked with barely a heartbeat between his and Will's words, the observation so easy it almost felt like cheating to point out something so obvious.
"It would require me to be more social than I am comfortable to be." Perhaps his answer was a little too honest but Will truly was past the point of caring all that much. Most people already viewed him like some form of messed up train wreck, what was one more person in the group? "Plus eyes are distracting. They never see enough and it's hard to concentrate when I'm focusing on all the wrong things like is that a burst vein."
His usual little rant about eyes didn't seem worth it, instead he tried to simplify it, finally shutting the book he'd barely read a page of since Hannibal had arrived, thumb still slightly in the page to keep his place despite the fact he was never one to forget the page number or even line placement.
Little details, for both men, were often worth a lot more than the things that everyone else noticed.
Speaking wasn't something he usually really did, never really seeing the point in giving people even more to criticise him with. It was usually best to just let people forget he was there unless necessary but at the same time… "Shouldn't you be more careful who you're seen with? I thought you would know better."
"Never judge a book by its cover and all that." No other reply seemed fitting, Hannibal soon moved his gaze to the clock on the wall, guessing Will's appointment was bound to start soon. "So, Mr Graham, what did you do to get sent to the principal's office?"
"I came back to work." Will seemed to consider it. "William, my name is William. Mr Graham makes me feel as though I should be setting you homework." He leaned back, seeming at least a little more relaxed than he had been. "And what I meant was it seems rather odd for you to start off your career here with becoming acquaintances with the local nut."
"William Graham. If I get to call you by your first name any chance I can convince you to use mine?" Watching Will he shook his own head. "I thought not. Though the offer is always on the table. Then again the local not jobs are usually more interesting than those of us who pretend we're anywhere near sane."
Will's amusement was finally almost obvious. "Is it normal for someone who works with teenagers to openly admit they're insane?"
"I doubt anyone else would accept the job." Hannibal replied with the same ease he had demonstrated before. "They're not the easiest beings to ever walk the earth."
"Clearly you're in the correct career."
"Clearly."
The silence seemed a bit easier after that, Will reopening his book despite the fact there was nowhere near the amount of time he would need to torture himself into paying attention again. Hannibal, much liked him simply watched the odd passing person passing by.
When the door to Hannibal's right and Will's left did finally open with a squeak it was Will who tiredly dragged himself up, giving a hollow half smile to the man standing there. "Jack."
"Come on in Will." Jack Crawford spoke simply, giving barely more than a curious glance to the blonde man who was there so very early. When Hannibal got up to leave he returned his attention to Will again, keeping the door open so they could both walk into the room, letting it shut behind him with an almost heavy click.
...
"How are you adjusting to being back, then?" Jack's tone was friendly and light in the empty office, eyes on the masses of paper decorating his desk. Recently things had been going wrong at home and as such the chaos in what had once been a space of calmness only reflected what was going on inside of his head. When Will moved to speak though he sighed, giving the other a look that clearly stated he wasn't going to accept the answer. "Honestly. Don't think of me as your boss for just a minute and try to trust me on this: I'm on your side here."
On his side. What an odd concept. What was his side? There was no agenda, no attempts to manipulate, no mind games and there was never any pretending he was anything but who he was. Will himself truly had no idea what his side meant. The side that didn't want him to be fired because his intelligence could still be utilised was a more accurate description.
The office, when looking past the papers was nice, spacious whilst never seeming like it was pretending to not be a work environment. The bookshelves held books, only few of them with spines bent enough to show they had indeed been read. A funny contrast to how Will's books were, always read to the point of almost breaking into thousands of tiny pieces in his hands, so fragile that every single time he dared to pick them up it could easily be the last. And still, in their beautiful vulnerability they acted as a safety blanket, something for Will to hide in until he could almost forget the world he lived in.
(The never quite right body he had to live in, never quite able of breaking free from.)
If he had been a stranger to the office it was unlikely that Will would have admitted he noticed how certain books still contained the bookmarks Bella had made Jack so many years earlier, carefully dried flowers from different points in their lives holding strong in-between the pages as though they would shatter at the first too rough hands that could selfishly handle them. Little mementos from different points in their lives kept carefully and residing in the few tidy areas of the office. The only areas that even Jack's growing chaos couldn't cope with touching because the memories still meant the world to him, if not more.
The windows let in more light than Will would have liked, resisting the urge to swallow more of his pills if only to be certain one of his migraines wasn't going to sneak up on him with a knife in hand. But even if Jack claimed to be on his side somehow he doubted showing quite how many pills he tended to take per day was going to help him in the slightest.
It was best to focus on what was going on the best he could for the time being before he could leave confident that he'd fooled one more person into thinking that he was any saner than he'd been at the worst moments of his breakdown. He was as broken as then, only he was finally back at the emotional point of pure hollowness where hiding it was easier.
That was, after all, how adults survived day to day was it not?
(Fake smiles and empty eyes, a few too many pills and drinks hidden in their bags and pockets. The art of hiding the damage was something he had never mastered and as such he had been branded as insane and broken. It was ironic if anything.)
"Will? Are you listening to me?" Jack tried again, resignation more on his tone than annoyance. He half wished to know how Hannibal had managed to get more out of Will in a couple of minutes than he had in practically years. He certainly couldn't remember the last time he had been able to do anything but tug Will's shoulders lower rather than higher.
"Of course I am." Will replied plainly, tone sounding more like an abandoned loft than anything anywhere near lively. "I'm fine to be back at work, I just had a momentary faltering but everything is now back in working order."
The next pause lingered a little too long. "Working order? Will, you're a human being not a machine." No response but Jack really hadn't dared hoping for one. "Are you finding it difficult being back? We both know how children can be."
"They are no crueller than adults have been, I assure you." He looked over the half dead flowers in the corner of the room, presuming that it had been a good while since anyone had taken the time to water them. Then again with Jack it had often been the idea that if you didn't ask for what you wanted you wouldn't get it unless he really did care for you. "I'm fine. I'm sleeping, taking my medication, eating…" Once in a while anyway. "I'm fine and I'm adjusting quickly, you know I've never had a problem with having to readjust quickly."
Jack nodded, the movement slow and proving how careful he was being to not say anything that may have been triggering. "May I be honest with you, Will?"
"I wasn't aware you were able of lying to those of us who know your pokerface." There was no real humour in the words, the very essence of them so dry it was almost painful to remember he was still a living, feeling person caught in such a mind."
"I want to help you. I want you to get out of this rut you've been pushed into but unless you start trying to climb out of it too you will never be able to reach those of us who want to help you." To make himself seem less imposing Jack leaned back, giving all the more distance between them, never imposing despite the fact they were sitting on the two facing sofas in the corner of the room rather than at the desk. "I don't like seeing you in such a state Will, you know that."
Will didn't like being in such a state but certain things had to be accepted as lost causes. No tears should be shed over spilt milk and all that. "I know that, Jack."
"Then you need to get some fight back in you." To Will's surprise Jack leaned forwards, gently adjusting his glasses so whilst there was never any direct contact there was enough to capture Will's full attention for a few moments. "I am your friend, you aren't alone in this."
Friend. Will didn't let himself linger on all the promises that were being set up only to be broken by one simple one syllable word. He wouldn't let himself linger on it and that alone showed in his eyes. "Again, I know that. But on the matter of my teaching I am doing fine. I'm good at my job, you know that."
"Simply because you can get away with putting up a screen and only presenting a prepared script. They don't look past what they need to see and as such you and that brain of yours can be… screened." Jack Crawford didn't consider himself a clever man in the slightest yet he knew that when it came down to it he was good at reading people at their most innocent forms, their more humane moments. It wasn't like Hannibal's reading of the darkest wishes and the darkest desires and it wasn't like Will' pure empathy where anything relating to anger and pain would stand out until it matched his own fear and made him act… it was Jack who had always been capable to see what defences were being built, especially with those who didn't know their own worth enough to try to build the defences so they would stay standing rather than half hoping that if they collapsed they would collapse onto them.
It took Jack less than a moment to know Will was the latter, the type who built walls with architectural faults at the very bottom so whenever there was some damage it would be Will left a little more dead.
(A parallel to Hannibal, he'd noticed, who made walls so nobody got in and nobody got out. Like a hunter's trap to keep parts of himself away from daylight.)
"What does it matter? I get my job done and I am working at this. I am doing my best to ensure my standards don't drop. That is, after all, why you employ me. I have record high passing rates in my classes."
He wasn't going to get through to Will, that much was clear. Jack offered a half sad smile as he got up from his seat, walking over to look over his books rather than putting too much attention on the young teacher. "Indeed it is." And if he hadn't been friends (did it count as friends if it was only one sided? It was always difficult to tell how the other felt about anything but ignoring the world) with Will he may have been worried it wasn't worth the record.
Sanity or great scores?
As long as Will wasn't a danger to anyone it should have easily been the latter. Then again, perhaps he was forgetting quite how important working was for Will to keep a grip on anything. Giving him something to focus on could only be good in the long run. It could only be good to give Will something other than labels and scars a little too deep to ever fix.
"You're right." Jack added as he tugged one of the more worn down books out of the bookshelf, smiling as he gently opened it to look over the long since dried white rose that separated two pages. "But that doesn't make me wrong either."
Forcing Will to stay was never going to work, he knew that well enough. It was always either on Will's terms or on nobody's. Closing the book with a sigh he gave Will a nod. "Leave if you want to. I'll be here if you ever decide you wish to talk to me, but you know that anyway."
He knew it but he never seemed to actually use the offer.
Jack Crawford was a patient man, thoughtful of the few he ever did care for and kind to those he deemed worthy. If he offered help it was never out of pity but out of some sympathy that lingered in his eyes even when nobody was looking. Will certainly didn't remember asking for Jack's help yet he never really understood why the other did seem to care at times as though Will was more than a useful pawn.
"Thank you." If only his voice, hell even his eyes, could get his understanding across. Yet no matter how hard Will tried he could get nothing across other than an uncomfortable curve of his lips that didn't last more than a second. Perhaps, if he'd been anyone else he would have been able to show some form of gratefulness back but no matter how hard he tried he wasn't too certain how.
Still, it seemed enough for Jack as he smiled and walked to the door, warmly letting Will out before inviting Hannibal in, not showing that anything other than a normal conversation had happened.
"Will."
"Doctor Lecter."
There was no real pause, Hannibal walking into Jack's office with a polite smile and Will walking away as though he was certain of his destination.
Like a crash waiting to happen the two narrowly avoided impact a little longer, barely having the time to notice each other before everything kept going as strongly as always.
The world kept spinning and few knew any difference.
