Will spent the next week and a half in and out of vision states, avoiding sleep like a plague and causing the need for constant five second naps to keep himself from dropping into a coma. He had also reverted to his extremely antisocial ways, requiring Crawford himself to come to Will's house to get him when he was too far gone to even notice the phone ringing. While alone Will had tried his best not to sleep and when he did he remained inside the house, curled in a corner. The one time Will did move to go outside when the screams really got to him, wandering off into the woods to the river in search of fish as dark figments moved in the trees and rushed closer whenever he looked away.
Will had run back to the house only to find the bodies now lining every inch of his house and he was forced to sit on, walk over, and push through waves of flesh that all begged and cried and screamed in fury at him. When Crawford had finally dragged him from his nightmare, mostly due to the second slap across his face, Will was given a large cup of coffee though he could barely lift the steaming beverage to his quivering lips before being pushed into a crime scene, not noticing until the coffee was completely gone. When he did look around, he found himself alone in a bloody room, thinking for a moment he may be dreaming once again before shaking his sleep deprived brain and focusing on the clues around him.
There was someone in his space, Will knew it. He had seen a figure and it had been following him for weeks, around every corner. Will knew the man had followed him here as well, and it seemed no matter how hard he tried the stalker just kept following behind his every step. The man knew Will had pushed them off the bridge, the only witness to the 'crime'. Now that bastard wouldn't leave him alone and was just waiting for him to slip up, but he was smart and on this particular day he moved silently up behind his target, asking the man politely if he had the time. The man he sought always carried a bright silver watch with black clasps on his person. Sometimes they were a tall or short man, sometimes black or white or Asian, but always, always, always they had that watch. Will looked closely at the wrist of this man as he lifted it, bright, shiny and with black clasps. So he unwrapped the wire he always carried with him just in case and looped it around the mans neck, dragging him into the empty building he had made into a temporary base that he would now have to pack up, again, and tying the man by the neck wire to one of the many posts in the relatively open space.
The man scrambled around as Will searched his pockets, smashing his phone and attempting to rip open his briefcase before finding it locked. Will ran over to his bag to pull out the hand-held axe he kept clean and sharp, ironically using it to chop off the mans hand. Will placed the fingers to the pad and when it binged open he threw the appendage at the screaming male, ordering him to shut up. The man slowly quieted to sniffles and sobs as Will dug through the papers regarding insurance or some other facade. Will had also encountered this before and used the axe to slice through the leather of the briefcase and dig in its contents. When he didn't find what he wanted he turned to the male, who shuddered on weak knees, gulping around the wire as the axe was raised, blood dripping from its edge.
"Where is it." Will demanded, not really expecting the truth. They never told the truth.
"I-I... P-p-please I d-don't know w-what... AHHHHHHHH!" The man screamed again as Will swung down the axe and cleanly chopped off the other hand. "PLEASE! I'LL DO ANYTHING PLEEEEASE!"
He shoved the flat side of the axe, covered in blood, against the screaming mans lips to quiet him, but he just screamed over and over again for someone to help him so Will lost his temper and began chopping away at any bit of flesh that was available. Once his temper calmed he pulled away, leaving a bloody, gasping, dying male without legs now being hung by the wire still wrapped firmly around his neck as blood gushed from the stubs where his arms and legs were once connected with his torso. Will checked diligently afterwords to make certain the male was dead, removing every single organ and going so far as to remove the whole skeleton with his bare hands before being satisfied. The victim eventually ended up just being a slab of skin when Will stepped back, wiping his hands and removing the mans watch before putting it into the case with all of the others, jingling them lightly with a smirk. He took one last look at the man before moving to clean himself up, picking up the small metal bar he had pried from the mans femur with his teeth to crush the device.
This is my design.
Will opened his eyes to find himself disturbingly close to what remained of the slab of skin, whining as he backed away and left the building, passing Katz and Zeller in the room where the killer had kept all his belongings without a word. Crawford had another cup of coffee for him, his pad out at the ready when Will walked outside, and Will described the disturbed, paranoid man hunting men with a item which he deemed to be a witness to the murder of someone close to the killer. The body, he explained, was mutilated to find some item, and when Katz added the victim had a metal implant they couldn't find, Will supplied the idea of some tracking device the killer thought was in the man, most likely also taken.
When Crawford got the information he set off, barking orders and slapping Will on the back as he left but not before grabbing a detective and loudly declaring that Will would be attending his weekly meeting with Hannibal that evening and that he was not to be left alone until that time. Will rolled his eyes as the detective followed far too closely behind him to the parking lot and even as he drove for Will's liking, considering Will had no strength to run in real life after having been doing so much of it in his dreams, the empath huffing out a laugh as he joked to himself.
Will spent that entire afternoon being watched and followed far too closely. At first he had chalked it up to the officer being completely duty bound and whatnot. He had met many such officers in his travels that were understandably concerned with his sanity, but the feeling he got from this particular officer was not of a friend or protector. It was that of a predator, he was certain, though Will had yet to fully look at the man, afraid of what he might convey as well as what he would see. It wasn't like this was an uncommon thing either, in fact Will had been used to such people surrounding him, as though he attracted the predators of the world and it wasn't that all these people were in any way bad people but the overpowering nature of some was too much for Will, especially as he just noticed how long it had been since he had been in the overbearing, uncomforting presence of a predator since Hannibal had entered his life, visions notwithstanding.
Will sighed yet again, feeling the detective shift and look at him from the edge of his desk, before the man returned to his paper. It was nearly five and Will was scheduled to meet Hannibal in an hour and a half, meaning they would have to leave in the next hour to make it across the city in time. Will glanced down at the stack of papers still to be signed and worked diligently on that as well as future lesson plans, filling in the last sheet before standing to move to his office. The detective immediately followed not 3 inches behind him, and Will was beginning to notice how overtly and unabashedly focused the detective was on him, an uncommon situation to Will. As he turned into the 'professors only' section of the building, Will turned to stop the man behind him from following, eyes remaining on the tiled floor as he spoke.
"Just wait a second, and I'll be back."
At first the man shook his head, but Will wasn't watching so the male then checked around him to see only office doors down the corridor and grabbed Wills wrist in a vice grip, clearly angry at being ordered by Will, and holding it tighter until Will finally flickered his gaze to the mans own for a fraction of a second.
"Two minutes." He said, then leaned against the door, shoving his foot in the base like a wedge to keep it open and allow him full view when Will walked down to his office and opened it up.
Will placed the papers down on his desk, leaving a note for the TA along with a lesson plan for the next class in case he didn't show up, which happened often enough for Will to plan around it months in advance. Feeling that the officer was a little too intense, as well as not exactly feeling like seeing Hannibal at the moment, as his non-therapist would immediately notice his current state mentally and physically, he decided to avoid both. So, with a glance back at his shut door, Will opened his window and crawled out onto the terrace that stretched around the top of the building and connected to the help center, walking back into the building and immediately jumping in an elevator. He could hear his bodyguard scream at him from down the hall where he had first entered, followed by thick boots crashing on the floor as the man ran but, just as the mans suited arm came into focus the doors fully shut, the sound of fists smashing against the doors making the empath flinch. Will jumped off on the second level, dashing down to the emergency exit that was taped open for the janitor crew to smoke and running out down the stairs into the parking lot.
Just as he sat in the drivers seat, he looked up to find the man running at his car and, as Will turned the vehicle to leave the detective leaped upon his hood and ordered him to stop, this being the first time Will actually saw the man fully. A suited male, hand on his gun and other hand outstretched to brace against Will's window. Sharp blue eyes narrowed in anger and thick golden hair billowed in the wind, lips pulled into a snarl that didn't fade even as Will placed the car into park, holding his hands up for the extra effect of surrender as well as mocking the detective detaining an FBI Agent-adjacent person like himself. The detective came around to open the passenger door and sat down with a huff, shutting the door and ordering Will forward.
"What about your car?" Will asked.
"Forget it." the man grumbled, making Will have to stifle a laugh as he drove before the mans anger came crashing down on him a moment later and ruined his good mood.
As the pair pulled up to Hannibal's office, Will twisted to wave goodbye at the man, offering to call him a cab. The detective in turn simply glared at Will, having watched him drive meticulously to make certain they would not be late, reaching over to pull out the keys before leaving the car and going over to the drivers side. The detective opened Will's door and grabbed his wrist in a vice grip before again tightening it when Will unconsciously attempted to pull his hand free, handing the keys back to Will on the way. The large male then dragged Will through the front door, essentially shoving him into a chair in the waiting room before standing in the corner, maintaining his glare towards Will without a word. Will curled in on himself slightly, feeling the anger and violence ebbing off the detective in waves, like the man really wanted to hit him, and it was this moment when Hannibal deigned to enter the room, ushering out another patient as he took in Will's presence while completely ignoring the officer.
When Hannibal returned Will had not moved, so the doctor knelt down next to the curled up male and whispered softly, "Will, please take a seat inside."
Will stood, following the doctors orders easily, and took a chair, sighing out in relaxation as his mind was suddenly freed from the emotions of the detective. Will reconsidered calling a cab and turned to present the idea to Hannibal but found himself alone in the room, the doctor having shut the door behind Will to speak to the detective alone. Will rolled his eyes at the laughable thought that the detective had any insight into Will's well-being or mental state. Hannibal must have realized it too as a moment later the doctor re-entered the room and Will could no longer see the police-man behind him.
"Now, Will, good evening. How have you been?" Hannibal jumped right in, either not noticing or not willing to say anything further regarding the detective, but Will was still curious.
"Fine, I guess. I drove that guy here though so..."
"I have called him a car, you need not concern yourself Will." Hannibal started, eyes narrowing as Will turned back around at the proximity the detective could so easily reach with his Will before noticing a marking on Will he had not yet seen before, his gaze flashing murderously.
Will rose his hand to scratch at his skull, the moments Hannibal had spent alone with the man far too short to have made a phone call, before figuring he was overthinking it and left the detective-focused thoughts to focus more on Hannibal. The man that Will just noticed had not moved from his spot, narrowed eyes trained on him, more specifically his exposed wrist where a bruise was beginning to form from the detectives vice grip in lines Will only just saw.
"What happened to your wrist Will." Hannibal demanded in a dark voice, and Will felt the anger bearing down on him yet again.
Will sighed to mentally shake Hannibal's anger out of his system, a far easier feat with the doctor than the detective, before he answered. "Went to swap out for a new-old engine and I fell over with it."
Will wasn't sure why he lied, perhaps to protect the detective, or himself from Hannibal's wrath, perhaps just to keep Hannibal from digging further in and most likely just as an automatic reaction, but Will refused to look at Hannibal as he described having to drag the engine into his office and falling over with it. Hannibal smiled lightly at that, the way his Will was so easy to read yet hidden in plain sight much like himself, going to his desk to pull out a emergency kit and some cream he then applied to Will's wrist.
"You must be more careful, Will." Was all he said as Hannibal wrapped up Will's wrist in unnecessary gauze, keeping his own annoyance in check at Will's protection, be it conscious or not, of the detective.
