Chapter 10: Worries
Will feels bad about Crawford's plan, but not the same way he felt up until now. He is neither nervous nor embarrassed anymore – it's just pure worry that fills his heart. He is afraid that what he is up to might eventually cause pain to Doctor Lecter, and Jack's words increased these worries to a level where they started constantly troubling him.
It was much better to think that the only thing he could achieve with the plan was that he'd look like a fool, and maybe that way, he could earn Hannibal's trust, making the doctor believe that Will was just a harmless, love-struck moron.
The reason why Jack started to become optimistic about their chances wrings Will's heart.
He can't feel. He has no emotions. He is a psychopath, Will repeats in his head over and over, hoping that at one point, he will start to believe it, but he is unable to. He knows that Doctor Lecter is not just a psychopath, he is not like any of the other killers, he cannot be classified into any preexisting categories... And Will knows that Hannibal cares. In his own way, not in the usual sense, but he does care.
If it were just a sadistic game, Hannibal would have already given up on him and searched for a new victim. But he didn't. Will is important to him.
How could he work on betraying the only person who has ever truly cared for him?
The doctor doesn't just see him as some pleasant reflection of his own desires about a non-existing Will Graham whom he wants to create from theories and presumptions... He really understands him.
And Hannibal still comes to visit him, not turning his back on him, not losing interest. He risks his career, years of work and effort, and the comfort of his life. All just to stay close to him. He knows that Will is not on his side and that Will might be a danger for him, and yet, still he stays...
No. Will forces himself to stop following this train of thought.
If Will's existence proved to be indeed inconvenient for him, Hannibal would either kill him like he killed Abigail, or leave him to his fate at this forlorn place. That's the beautiful care, the support! He just makes some cuts with a knife if he has to, to solve the problems once and for all...
All the human feelings the doctor might have added together wouldn't be worth a moment spent hesitating to implement Jack's plan.
This is what Will has to do, no matter what – he'll follow the plan and try to win. Everything else is just collateral damage. Even if it hurts him or hurts Hannibal – it's unimportant compared to those horrible murders the doctor will surely commit if he is not incarcerated.
Will spends his days striding up and down his cell like a lost, restless animal locked up in a cage.
Hannibal sits down next to Will on the bed and takes a while setting out the meals he has brought.
The doctor's maroon vest, his ivory-colored shirt, and the matching dark red scarf fixed with a golden pin attracts the younger man's attention. The thought crosses Will's mind for a brief moment that Hannibal looks even more elegant than usual. Even the scent of his cologne is slightly more intense. He must have spent a bit more time arranging his appearance before coming to visit today. Is it possible that Doctor Lecter has dressed up for this occasion?
The younger man quickly suppresses the stupid idea. It must be a coincidence or a misinterpretation. It might very well be that Will is just unable to correctly differentiate between the types of elegant outfits, and the doctor's clothes are no more exclusive than generally. Or Hannibal just has plans for the evening, perhaps a classical concert to attend or a banquet to host, and that's why he is wearing the prominently elaborate attire. It has nothing to do with visiting Will, that's for sure.
"Soup alla Canavese," the doctor introduces the first part of the dinner while trying to hand it over to the younger man.
Will doesn't take the soup; he feels unable to eat.
"I'm not hungry," he says, softly pushing away the food the other man offers him.
Hannibal puts the parts of the dinner aside.
"What is it that makes you this sad?" he asks with patience.
"I'm not sad."
"Sad is the word I would choose, but if it's not the word you'd use, how would you describe, then, the way you feel?"
Will takes a few seconds to consider his response. "Well, I guess I just think too much."
"Would you mind sharing the cause with me?"
I better start working on Crawford's plan before I sink too deep into the spider-web of my own thoughts, Will decides.
"I've been thinking about the answer you gave me last week," he replies, carefully avoiding eye-contact with the doctor. He tries to solely concentrate on sticking to Jack's plan and nothing else. "I can't stop wishing that things could be different for us."
"Different in what sense?"
"I... I'm not sure," Will clears his throat uneasily. "I just wish you could have said yes."
"Under the present circumstances, it's no use fantasizing about it."
Will shifts uncomfortably, keeping his eyes on an imaginary spot an inch over the doctor's left shoulder. "I know," he mutters. "I just can't control it. I kept thinking of you the whole week, and... and..."
"What are you hoping to achieve with this?" Hannibal asks dryly.
Will feels a cold shiver run through his body. "I don't know what you mean," he tells the lie quickly.
"Don't try to force me to overstep the boundaries that aren't meant to be overstepped." The tone the doctor uses is unwontedly hostile.
Hearing this response, Will abruptly loses focus on Crawford's plan, and sheer anger overwhelms all the rational thoughts in his mind.
"Force you to overstep the boundaries?" he echoes, with rage arising in him like a tornado of fire. "You pushed me around blood covered murder scenes, painted a nauseating picture of corpses to drag me into your sick world, turned my life into a nightmare of horrors, locked me into this tiny cell to live the rest of my life like a captured animal... and you have the nerve to say that I'm trying to force you to do something you don't want to?!"
At first, Will thinks that even Hannibal is close to lose his temper because the doctor presses his lips together a bit more forcefully than necessary, but then, he puts his hand on Will's bare lower arm soothingly.
"I've never said that I don't want it," he answers with mildness, "But I know that I shouldn't. And you shouldn't, either. It makes me wonder why you are not worried about the way we might affect each other in an excessively intimate relationship."
Will knows that this is the weakest spot of Crawford's plan.
It has always been Hannibal who pushed their relationship closer and more apparent. Will wasn't interested in the doctor when he first met him. If it weren't for Hannibal's constant curiosity and resolution, Will would have probably soon forgotten about the man and lived his life like nothing had happened. Even later, he could have kept a much greater distance, had Doctor Lecter not made such skilled efforts to have him give up his defenses.
It's sadly ironic that when Will reached a point where he lost all his resistance to the doctor's attempts to become true friends, when he started to believe for the first time in his life that he really had someone to stand by him and no longer felt alone – it happened to be just before he figured out that Hannibal was a disingenuous, cold-blooded murderer framing him for a series of killings.
It must look highly suspicious how Will changed the situation during the last weeks, and how he tries to be the one that gets over the walls of the other man. Even if Hannibal believes that Will developed a romantic affection towards him, it's no explanation for the younger man suddenly showing his love-like yearning this directly.
Will feels that he has to give Hannibal an answer so honest, simple and pure that can convince the other man to ultimately put his suspicion and mistrust aside and finally let him in. If it's not the right time, then it never will be.
"I try to hate you, but I can't," Will confesses with a rapid decision. "After all the things you've done, I just can't."
The doctor gives a dim smile.
Will goes on, "Even if you ruin my life and kill everything and everybody, you are still the closest I've ever had to family."
Hannibal lifts his hand from Will's arm and slides his palm to the younger man's back. Will has to gulp hard because the feeling is so unexpectedly strong. Every spot on his skin the doctor touches starts burning with desirous heat.
"You are my family," Hannibal murmurs, gently pulling Will in his direction.
The younger man hears his own erratic, choking breaths, senseless heartbeats throbbing in his chest...
With the remains of his rational thoughts he recognizes that this is the perfect time to kiss the doctor according to Crawford's plan. He moves further towards Hannibal, and his mouth almost brushes the older man's lips...
But he suddenly changes his mind and stops just before he could reach the doctor's skin.
"I'm sorry. You were right, we shouldn't do this," he wheezes and tries to pull away, but the doctor's arm around his shoulders restrains him.
Hannibal leans so close that Will can feel the caress of the doctor's breathing on his lips.
"I know perfectly well that we shouldn't," Hannibal whispers, and the next moment, his mouth is on Will's.
It feels soft and warm and causes a completely different sensation than the ones the younger man previously experienced during kissing. Though this is not even a real kiss, just the almost uncertain touch of the doctor's lips, it's more tingling and delicate than anything Will has ever felt in his life.
Hannibal rests his lips on Will's mouth while moving his other arm around the younger man's body, keeping him from withdrawing.
The way Will's chained wrists are pressed against the doctor's chest between their bodies – as a pointless attempt to stop him – makes it possible for him to feel the other man's ribcage lifting and sinking with every rhythmic breath Hannibal takes. The softness of the doctor's decorative scarf mingles with the sharp pain of the shackles cutting into the flesh of Will's arms as his muscles are tensing against the cold metal. It seems to him that the kiss, the scent of the other man's skin and the heat of Hannibal's closeness fills his mind completely.
Will hasn't believed that such feeling might exist. Of course, he had heard about some of the romantic ideas about deep, overpowering sensations and finding someone who can make the whole body and soul come alive but has always thought that these were either stupid, sappy tales for bored house-wives, or even if there was truth hidden in these stories, these kind of emotions were only for other people who weren't such strange outcasts like he was.
The relationships he had were all uninteresting and futile, and he had soon accepted that this was the best he could expect. He didn't even think about the possibility that it could be in any other way for him. There has never been any reason for fantasizing about it, and, as a matter of fact, he didn't care at all.
Only now, that he has the most erotic and mesmerizing experience of his life just by the light touch of Hannibal's lips, he starts to credit those dreamy stories about real love.
The doctor moves his mouth against Will's with slightly more force, trying to make him open up, but Will remains hesitant to do so.
He wishes he could have another life where he could give in to this overwhelming longing, letting himself sink into the sensation, not caring about anything, not having any memories at all...
He just wants to kiss the doctor like nothing mattered, to show him that he really does see him perfect and beautiful the way Hannibal wished Will could see him. He just wants to touch every part of the doctor's body, to explore every inch of the skin hidden under the elegant, expensive clothes, and to try everything physically possible with him...
But this is neither a dream nor a wishful delusion, and every yielding reaction he would give just pulled them both into the trap of Crawford's plan, drifting them towards the final step...
"Enough." Will moves away from Hannibal by force.
He knows that his behavior seems inconsistent, but he is unable to go on. He suddenly feels unable to care about anything else. He can't think of the victims, of Abigail or anyone, the horrors of his nightmares, the lies, nothing...
"Go," he says huskily. "Go away, and don't come back again. Now!"
The doctor watches him with a hint of surprise, his eyes narrowing, the muscles of his face stiffening. "I suppose I deserve at least a brief explanation for this sudden change of mood," he replies.
Will shakes his head feverishly. "Don't ask anything. Please, just leave. Please."
His voice is broken, he becomes too weak to say any other words, just buries his face in his palms. He tries not to think of anything... He is struggling not to think at all.
He senses that Hannibal still doesn't move.
"If you don't leave of your own free will," Will hisses through his fingers, "I'll attack you, so the guards will force you out of the cell, and lock me away. And I'll keep on repeating verbal threats until the administrator bans you for safety reasons to ever visit me again. You'd better go on your own."
"Will. Look, try to–"
"Just go."
"Will, listen–"
"I'll count to three," Will interrupts with determination in his voice, turning to the doctor with empty pain in his eyes. "If you are still here when I reach three, I'll attempt to strangle you with my chains, and I won't stop until the whole hospital is alarmed. You know that I mean it."
"Will."
"Don't look back."
Will feels the thin, cheap mattress creak as the doctor's weight disappears from it when Hannibal gets up from the edge of the bed. The doctor walks up to the rails and signals for the guards to let him out.