He thought he was safe, but he wasn't.

Mrs. Dawson had been a patient of his for many years, and he had a problem to go on his appointment of the next week. Her youngest son was recovering from chicken pox, and while he was not in pain anymore, he was still contagious, so he could not go to school. Their usual nanny had an exam so he couldn't be at Mrs. Dawson place on time. Nevertheless, she had told Mrs. Dawson that she could make it to Baltimore ten minutes later after the start of the session. Of course, the session could start ten minutes later, but the lady had told him that if he let the child in with some headphones and a video game for those ten minutes, he would surely be no bother. Hannibal knew the kid, he was quiet and well-behaved. He wouldn't listen to a word they were saying. And it would only for ten minutes, five if the nanny hurried a bit.

More as a kindness to an old client than anything else, Hannibal accepted. The little was indeed quiet and spent those ten minutes looking at the small screen, without paying any attention to his surroundings. At the expected time, the nanny arrived at took him away after apologizing. It had only been ten minutes.

Ten minutes of doom.

Hannibal didn't know how much damage those ten minutes would cause. How intensely he was going to regret letting that kid anywhere near him.

A couple of days later, he started feeling bad. His muscles ached, all over his body. How odd. He was also feeling a sudden loss of appetite and even the most succulent dishes made him slightly nauseous. Truth be told, he was feeling nauseous most of the time. Nothing too serious, just a feeling of nausea accompanied by a nasty headache. But he had headaches before. It was nothing he couldn't handle.

It was on a dinner with Jack Crawford that he understood where all this was coming from.

"You're not eating, Doctor?" Crawford had asked. "This pork is truly delicious."

"I fear I'm not feeling hungry today, as inviting as the dinner may be."

"Now that's unusual. With the way you usually enjoy food… Watch yourself there, Doctor, you may be coming down with something."

And that's when it hit him.

Nausea. Loss of appetite. Muscle ache. All symptoms that preceded chicken pox in adults.

But that couldn't be, could it?

Of course, he thought he had passed it. He remembered being very sick as a child, before his parents were killed, and being isolated on account of being contagious. He had assumed it was chicken pox… but he couldn't ask his parents to be sure, now could he? But it was obviously something else, and that kid had infected him. He was in for a nightmare.

As a doctor, Hannibal knew all the statistics, all the data. How this illness was most severe in male adults. The many complications it could have. The graveness of the symptoms. But, as a doctor, he also knew what to do to prepare himself. He bought the advised medication to decrease his symptoms, the lotions, cut his nails. He thought he was prepared. He wasn't.

It was going to be hell.

A couple of days later, his headache got worse and the rash made his appearance. Millions of red marks marring his perfect skin. And they were everywhere, in his legs, stomach, chest, even in his face and neck. And they itched so much. But Hannibal knew better than to scratch, much as he wanted to. Sometimes he wished he didn't know better.

He wore the most comfortable clothes he found and tried to think of something that was not the itching. Tried to read. But his head hurt and he was in pain and he looked terrible. He even covered some of the mirrors to avoid seeing that terrible reflection. That couldn't be him.

He felt so-so bad.

Terribly bad.

One evening, while he was on the couch battling a headache the phone rang. It was Will.

Will was grateful that the time of the week when he had therapy had arrived, because he was feeling quite confused. With himself. And others. And Hannibal had a way of putting things in order, even invisible things like his mind problems; that was exactly what he needed. But when he arrived, the lights of the consult were off and it was empty. So he called the psychiatrist.

"Dr. Lecter? I'm at the consult and there's no one here."

"Will, I told you a few days ago that our session was cancelled, remember? I fear I have fallen a bit ill."

Oh, now he remembered.

"Oh, yeah, sorry… I forgot." He sighed. "Can't I come over for a bit? I made all the way here… If you're not contagious, of course."

"That depends on whether you passed it as a child or not." Hannibal said tiredly.

"Chicken pox?"

"Indeed."

"I'm coming over."

"Will…"

"You said your kitchen was always open to friends, didn't you?"

Hannibal reluctantly accepted.

Will remembered having chicken pox as a kid. How I hurt, how it itched. Being alone for all those hours while his father worked, in a small room. Ill and alone. How slowly the time passed and how much he itched. How his face itched, and his chest and everything. And he couldn't talk with people because he was contagious. Not his fondest memories.

When Hannibal opened his door Will almost gasped. He had never seen the doctor looking so terrible. He still had his posture (that ballet dancer posture he had, always so stiff. That a frequent sloucher like him so envied) but the rest was off. Like the eyes, usually so flawless and sharp, that were now red and shiny. There were red angry spots crossing his face, even if some were covered the therapist's hair, which hung messier than ever. Not to mention the baggy clothes he was wearing: a gray tee that read "12th convention of psychiatrists of Maine" and sweatpants that, while obviously expensive, appeared to be quite old.

"Wow, you look awful." Will said before he could stop himself.

"Why, thank you for the compliment, Will."

Just what I needed, Hannibal thought with a tinge of sadness.

"Sorry. I just… you didn't sound so bad on the phone."

"Well, I do feel so bad. Please, come in."

The house was as perfect as expected. No sign of its owner distress.

"I fear I won't be of much help today, Will."

Hannibal admitted. His head hurt, he felt tired and wrong and his whole being itched.

"Forget about that. I could keep you some company… do you have any cards? It may distract you a bit from the itching."

"That is a lovely idea."

They played cards for a while. It was nice and easy, comfortable, companionable. Will called Alana to go and feed his dogs while he was away and decided to stay for a while, to help out Hannibal. Lecter declined the help at first, saying that he didn't want to be a bother, but Will insisted. He slept in one of the guest rooms, hoping not to soak in sweat those elegant sheets.

The next day Hannibal woke up with a very high fever, and Will understood why doctors warned that chicken pox could be very dangerous in adults. He remembered reading somewhere that %75 of chicken pox related deaths on the UK had been on adults. Which was kind of scary. Hannibal was sweaty, in a lot of pain and he itched all over. Will applied cold towels to the forehead and the neck of the doctor, who seemed very out of it. Sometimes he called his name. Sometimes he called names of unknown people. Taking his role of caretaker very seriously, Will even prepared some soup and bought some paracetamol for the doctor-become-patient.

The meds did some considerable work, and that evening Hannibal was able to get out of bed and go to the living room. Will went to take a shower and when he came back his eyes widened at the sight Hannibal shirtless. He understood it when he saw the calming lotion next to him.

"I trust that you had a pleasant shower, Will." The doctor told him with a small smile. Hannibal looked at least ten years younger, with the messy hair in his face, the sweatpants and the spots on his face.

"Yes, thank you."

Hannibal looked at Will as in doubt.

"This is slightly embarrassing… Could you apply the gel on my back, if it's not too much of a bother?"

"Oh, yeah, sure, no problem."

Will did so, gently, carefully, trying not to hurt the man in any way. The whole moment was strangely intimate.

When he went to wash his hands, Will noticed the covered mirror on the bathroom.

"What's going on with the mirrors?"

"Like you noted the first day, I look awful. I was trying to ignore that fact."

He looked awful, he felt awful, and he wanted to scratch himself but couldn't. And this had been going on for far too long. He was tired and ill and his head hurt oh-so-very-much. Hannibal looked like shit, seemed to be on the verge of tears even, and Will did was anybody else would do when a friend was hurting and sad. He gave him an awkward but sweet hug.

Oh, if ever he had to kill Will, Hannibal was going to be very very sorry. He made a mental note to try and not kill him, even if things got ugly.

"Don't worry, Dr. Lecter, you still look better than me in my best clothes day. Now, would you like some more of that awesome soup I made?"

The soup wasn't awesome, not by a long shot, but Hannibal gladly accepted it. The next day, Lecter got much worse and Will was worried that he might develop pneumonia or another complication like that. He spent all day near the bed, giving Hannibal water when he needed it, trying to decrease the fever. In the evening Hannibal started crying silent tears in his sleep and Will got very worried. Then he realized the older man was having a nightmare and tried to wake him. He comforted him when he woke. That's what friends are for.

Hannibal started getting better after that night, and Will left a couple of days later, not without hearing Hannibal thank him in many ways.

"I honestly don't know how to thank you, Will. You have been too kind."

"Hey, your illness distracted me from the monsters and my own instability. So I guess we're both winners, right?"

"Let me invite to dinner, friday night. It will be the most lavish dinner you've ever seen."

"I look forward to it."

And so they said goodbye.

Will spent all the way back home smiling, feeling ridiculously proud of himself.

A/N: Credit for the idea goes to Gerfan who suggested a chicken poxed Hannibal with a caring Will nursing him back to health. Hope it lived up to expectations, dear! I'll try to make all requests, with time, but alternating them with my own ideas. Hope you enjoyed this chapter!

Do tell me your thoughts on this! I love all your beautiful feedback )