Losing You Terrifies Me

by A. David

Gentle. That was the word the monster had used. Will would hold onto that word as if it were the only thing in the universe. Because it was gentle. Each skim of lips and trace of tongue, each brush of fingers and dip of hips were nothing but gently maddening, sending Will so far into himself that he thought he would never be found again.

27. Chapter 27

The nightmares did come with a vengeance. White dresses turned red with a knife. Corpses with thirteen stab wounds dancing within a salt circle, a wonderfully kind woman who had done the very best she could for her son dead in a driveway, left pale like the moonlight.

Walter jolted awake with a heaving breath, eyes wide as he tried to take in the room he was in. A room he didn't recognize. A bed that wasn't his. His eyes darted up at movement from a chair and he saw a pretty woman, with arms folded tightly around her small frame, step towards him.

"Where's my dad?" Walter gasped out, mind running a million miles an hour, trying to remember everything that was a dirty blur.

"Shh," the woman said, sitting on the edge of the bed. Her hand outstretched towards Walter and Walter flinched away. She gave a small, tight smile and lowered her hand back to her lap. "Your dad went away for a little bit. He'll be back soon." Walter tipped his head at her monotone, soft voice. A voice he vaguely remembered. "Breakfast should be ready by now. Would you like something to eat?"

Walter gave a small nod, trying to take in more of the room. Large, fancy, expensive. Something Walter had never had the privilege to live in before. Not even hotel rooms were this nice. Not even his grandparent's house was this nice and Walter had considered that place horribly over the top.

The woman, who Walter could faintly remember being called something like Margaret or maybe Madeline, stood from the bed and went for the door of the large room. Walter scrambled from the bed and followed after her through the large house. She pushed open the door to a room and let Walter step in.

It was white, clinically so, and a large table filled the room, littered with vases of flowers and a chandelier hanging over the top of it. There was a large spread of food and drinks on one side of the table and Walter was met with the kind smile from another woman who was just as pretty as Magnolia was. Walter shook his head, face scrunched up. No. That wasn't right either.

Across the table sat a small boy eating away mindlessly with a book on the table, open and being read happily. Walter stared at the dark haired boy for a moment more. He couldn't have been more than five or six if Walter had to guess, which was about when he had started to learn to read, but books like Green Eggs and Ham, not full length novels.

"Walter," the woman, whose name he was pretty certain stated with an M, said, motioning to the table with a sweep of her hand. "This is my wife, Alana."

"Wife?" Walter asked curiously, looking back to the woman whose name he did recognize from conversations between Will and his mother. Alana gave a small nod, not looking at all offended by the judging question. "Nice to meet you."

"And this is my son, Morgan," the woman continued, stepping over to where the boy still sat consumed in his book. She snatched the book up and Morgan jumped, head now up with a frown. "No books at the table, Morgan. You know the rules."

"But Mom-"

"No buts," Margot, that was her name, interrupted the child's whining before sitting beside him.

Walter frowned. Morgan was one of those spoiled rich kids. Walter knew the type, the type that liked to make fun of him at school. The type that picked on him for his oversized clothes that were bought at thrift stores and hammy downs from his cousins. The type of kid that could get away with anything just because their parents had money.

"Come sit down Walter," Alana said, smile kind as she patted the table beside here where another place setting was.

"I like Wally," Walter muttered as he slowly stepped over to the table and sat down, looking over the food that was in front of him. Eggs, bacon, sausage, toast, french toast, pancakes, waffles, orange juice, apple juice, some other things that he couldn't exactly name, but all of it looked good and his stomach was growling more the longer his eyes looked over the food. "Do you eat like this every day?"

"Please, have some. Don't be shy, Wally," Alana insisted as she took a sip from her coffee mug.

Walter inhaled deeply, before looking up and meeting Morgan's insanely blue eyes that were looking over him curiously. Walter frowned, but kept the instinct to stick out his tongue to himself. He reached for the orange juice and poured himself a glass and then dug into the food. He didn't have dinner the night before and this looked wonderful.

It reminded him of what his dad would cook for him on the weekends. Every Saturday morning Will would get up early and make them breakfast. Will wasn't really the best cook and the eggs normally came out a bit crunchy from shells and the bacon a little burnt, but Walter didn't mind. And it let his mother sleep in, which he knew his mother needed. She liked to stay up watching tv far too late into the night.

"Morgan, please hurry. Your classes start in a moment," Margot instructed as she took a drink from her own glass of orange juice. Only, Walter knew that wasn't quite right. It looked like orange juice, but it was in an ornate glass, tall and skinny. It had alcohol in it. He could smell the faint yeastiness of the alcohol, something close to freshy baked bread. Or maybe it was just the freshly baked bread, but Walter knew there was a more sour note to the drink than there was to the bread.

Morgan gave a nod and took another bite of his piece of toast, the only thing on the boy's plate much to Walter's bewilderment. But if this was what was for breakfast everyday then maybe Walter would get tired of eating it too, though he doubted it.

He took a bite of the bacon and it was like a pit had been opened up in his stomach. He downed the bacon easily, jaw working hard to keep up with how quickly he was shoving food into his mouth like he had never eaten before. He was going to make himself sick, but he didn't care. He was starving, could feel a faintness in his limbs from lack of food, a tingling in the tips of his fingers.

Walter stopped with embarrassment coloring his cheeks at a laugh from Alana. "The food will still be here when you finish your plate," she explained and Walter sat up, lowering his fork and wiping at his mouth with the cloth napkin that was beside his plate. He hesitantly reached out and took a sip of his juice before slowing his pace of shoveling food into his mouth to something a bit more polite.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I didn't eat last night."

"You don't need to apologize, Wally," Alana assured.

Margot got from her chair, hand taking Morgan's shoulder. "Let's get you to your classes, Morgan. You can come riding with me when you're done with your arithmetic."

Morgan jumped down from the table and grabbed the book that his mother had taken from him before stopping beside Walter with a curious look. Walter did his best to keep his face neutral, to not look like he was jealous or upset with the small child who couldn't help the life he had been born into. A life that Walter was suddenly very envious of... Maybe just for the food.

"Would you want to come look at the horses?" Morgan asked, much to Walter's surprise. He was being nice? That didn't mean that Walter had to like him. And of course they would have horses. Which rich family didn't? This was like some weird romantic show his mother liked to watch. Something like...oh what was the one she liked to watch called? Ever After or something Cinderella like. Walter hadn't paid much attention, but his father had claimed to enjoy it when the movie was finished and the popcorn bowl was put in the sink to be washed.

"How about we let him get settled?" Alana offered in a voice that told Walter that he probably wouldn't be looking at the horses any time soon. "Maybe tomorrow you can show him the horses. Go to your studies."

"Alright." Morgan gave a small nod, book being tucked under his arm. Margot pushed him along and to the door. "Bye Wally. See you later."

"Bye," Walter whispered as he watched the two leave the room. He stared at the door for a moment longer before he went back to eating, the eggs not crunchy in the slightest. He could sense those powerful blue eyes watching him closely, but he didn't look up, just swallowed and got another bite ready. "My dad's mentioned you before."

"Has he?" Alana asked curiously and Walter nodded, taking another bite of eggs before his hand reached across the table to grab a sausage link to shove whole into his mouth without a second thought. "Then you know about me?"

"Not much," Walter replied through his mouthful of food. "I know you're a doctor. One like Hannibal."

"You know Hannibal?"

Walter gave a shrug, reaching for the maple syrup to pour it over his french toast. He was starting to get full, but he didn't care. It felt good to eat, it filled a hole that was in his chest. Something very cold and very empty that he wanted gone.

"I know of him, like anyone else. I've read the books and articles, but they contradict each other too much for me to know which are true." Walter's fork clanked against the plate as he aggressively used it to cut at a corner of the bread and he put it in his mouth, ignoring the way the syrup got all over the white table cloth. "I would assume that his own writings on himself are more truthful than anything else I have read. But he does have a sense of arrogance and narcissism in his words. He likes to blow his own horn."

Alana watched the boy curiously as he downed the rest of the food that was on his plate before reaching hectically for more as if he had been lost in a cave in the middle of the desert and this was the first time he had seen food in weeks.

"What makes you say that?" she asked, head tipped to the side at another shrug from the boy.

"Aren't all killers like that?" He paused in his scarfing and looked up at Alana. "His words are one of accomplishment, of being better than everyone else. Egotistical, conceited, an inflated sense of self-importance."

"You sound like Will," Alana muttered before taking a sip of her drink.

"I've lived with him for three years. I'm sure some of it has rubbed off. He is my dad after all." The words held a bit of sharpness in them and Alana leaned forward in her chair.

"Have you met Hannibal before?"

Walter shook his head. "Just last night. He was easy enough to deal with. You just play to his ego and he sings. That's what my dad did in the past, right? To get Hannibal to help you with the Red Dragon case?" Alana listened carefully, intrigued by how much the child knew about everything that surrounded him and Alana was certain that Will hadn't initiated it. The boy had sought it out on his own. Alana gave Walter a nod when he looked over for an answer. "You just say things he likes to hear."

"I don't think he's quite that simple," Alana pointed out. "He was still the one in control."

"But he wasn't going to kill me. I knew he would come back eventually. As soon as my dad came back I knew he would be around the corner. It would be the natural progression of events if Freddie Lounds wrote anything true. Murder husbands and what not. I suppose they are."

"What did you say to him that made you so endearing?" Alana pushed her coffee mug away, fully invested in what Will's child had to say. Walter really had taken on a lot of aspects of Will. Will's sharp mind, his observations, his way of explaining things in so simple of terms that it felt like you were being talked down to. "Was it the Lithuanian. I heard you speaking it last night. What did you say to him?"

"We had long conversations in it. You would have to be more specific. But you have to make yourself sympathetic. Or that's what my dad said. You have to be useful and look human and they won't hurt you. If you can look human then they can't turn you into the faceless doll that they turn everyone else into. They can't find the courage to kill you."

Alana wasn't sure if that applied to Hannibal exactly. Nothing fully applied to Hannibal. He was a mashup of different morals and ideals that made him a patchwork man that no one would ever fully understand, not even Will Graham would ever fully be able to take apart the man in the suits with the accent and the blood stained hands.

"I would like to spend the day with you, Wally. If that is ok with you."

"What for?" Walter asked, frozen in his eating and full attention and eyes on Alana. "I'm fine."

"I think you're in denial."

"About what?"

"About the events that occurred last night," Alana answered gently, reaching out to take his hand. Walter pulled away and out of reach with a reproachful expression. Another thing he took after Will, Alana mused. "You do remember don't you."

Walter's brows furrowed at the not exactly full question and he gave a small, hesitant nod. "I know she's dead," he replied softly. "I'm not in denial."

"You're to the point of acceptance rather quickly. Mourning periods can last up to several months," Alana said, sitting back in her chair so that Walter wouldn't pull back from her any further than he did. It almost reminded her of Abigail. She had been cold too. Too calculating and not enough feelings. He needed to feel to heal. "There's nothing wrong with being sad and-"

"I know there's not. That doesn't mean that I have to be." Walter moved in his chair to be further away from the woman, wishing the conversation would end and he could just go back to his room. He didn't enjoy someone digging into his head. No one could understand him, he didn't even understand himself, so there was no point in trying to understand. He wasn't sure why he wasn't sad, didn't know why he was so calm after having watched his mother be taken from him. He didn't know why he was so accepting of the events that had just happened, but it was much easier to deal with when they were muted and pushed away so he could look at them critically than if they were overwhelming his senses like they liked to do to his dad. "Don't analyze me, Dr. Bloom. I'm not a textbook."

"No, you're not," Alana agreed sweetly, unable to get over the fact that the boy was nearly a carbon copy of Will. What had Will done to the boy to make him like this? Or maybe it was more that Walter wanted to be like Will? The boy did look up to his father. That much was apparent. "But I feel like you're suffering from Emotional Numbness."

"What's that?" Walter asked cautiously, eyeing Alana nervously.

"Emotional numbing can happen as a result of physical or emotional pain. In an attempt to protect yourself from being hurt again, it's not uncommon to disconnect, detach, or numb out feelings related to the situation," Alana explained, doing her best to keep her tone calm and light instead of impersonal. "When this happens, you may feel temporary relief that allows you to move on with your life, but over time, this protective shield can begin to get in the way of connecting with others and getting in touch with feelings. You can't stay in this forever. You have to come out and deal with what happened."

"Deal with what?" Walter challenged. "My mother was killed by a cop who I thought would save me from a serial killer. The serial killer tried to save my mom and my dad is hooking up with the serial killer and both happen to be men. I would say that I am dealing with it fairly well, all things considered."

Walter got from the table and Alana's eyes stayed on him, much to his dislike. He wanted to be alone, away from everyone. He was detached, but it was what he needed to be and no therapist was going to change him from that. He detached to stay safe.

He detached when he found that family dead. He detached when he was taken hostage by Jordan and Casey. He detached when he found out that Danny had been taken away by the state and he would never see him again because Danny was as screwed up as Jordan after a psych evaluation. He detached when Hannibal brandished a knife at him. He detached when his mother had been shot. That was what made it so he could function, do what others couldn't.

He stopped Danny from seeing those bodies, he called his dad for help. He stayed calm while blind folded and gagged. He helped his mother while he could and stopped his father from losing himself over Molly. He was the rock, the steady bluff against the storm. He detached for others, not himself. He would stay detached if it helped others.

"Do you have a problem with your father being with a man?" Alana questioned, curious that that seemed to be the thing that Walter was most focused on. Walter shifted slightly, eyes down on the floor, lips bit between his teeth. "You seemed to have a problem with Margot mentioning we were married earlier as well." Walter still didn't answer, but his jaw clenched and his hand became fists. "Family reconfiguration can involve transitional tension. It can be hard to move from being born into a heterosexually formed family and having everything change to a homosexually formed family. It might be something that you don't want to believe or accept."

"I suspected," Walter admitted softly. "Will wasn't like the other men that my mom dated, but he was nice. I thought he was shy. But after he came back from being with Hannibal I knew he was different, but I didn't say anything to anybody. It was just an idea. I didn't want to think about it."

"Because you didn't want to think about the consequences, about what it would mean for you mom and dad?" Alana supplied receiving a mute nod. "Did you feel guilty, hiding that from your mother?" A small nod. "Do you want to talk about that?"

"No." Walter's voice was abrupt and biting. "I don't."

"Do you have an issue with Margot and I being together?"

"No," Walter muttered, hands unclenching and clenching back up. "I don't care that you're gay. I have-I had friends with gay parents." The correction made Alana tip her head.

"But you are upset with Will for being gay?" Alana voiced. It wasn't really a question, more of a statement, but she didn't want to upset the boy more than he was.

"I don't know."

"Are you more upset that he was having an affair while still married to your mom?"

"It doesn't matter anymore if he was," Walter stated, finally looking up, eyes cold and blocked. There was no emotion in them, nothing that Alana could pick up on. "What happened is what happened. It's his life, not mine. If he wants to screw that killer, then he can. It's not my place to say anything."

Alana was silent for a moment, going over the boy's words in her head, trying to pull together a conclusion. "Are you sad because you don't know if what your mom and dad had was real?"

"It wasn't real."

Alana blinked at the harsh words, but they weren't mad or hurt. Just jarring in how cold they were. "Those good memories you have with both of them were real. They were real moments. It might be over now, but that doesn't mean that they didn't happen and they weren't real when you were experiencing them. They haven't lost their reality just because your father likes another man."

Walter sighed. "I know that. I meant their relationship wasn't real. But like I said, it doesn't matter anymore. That part of my life is gone and this is my new reality that I have to navigate. I've done it before, I can do it again. My mom has been through enough boyfriends and divorces. I know how to pick up the pieces and move on. And I still have my dad. He'll come back for me and we'll be a family."

"With Hannibal," Alana reminded with a strained tone. Walter had been through too much in his short life, talked far too much like an adult, shut himself away too much like a teenager who had depression. He wasn't depressed. He was in full clarity of the situation and it stunned Alana how a boy of his age was able to hold himself together like this. It was wrong. He was going to hurt himself. He would be damaged if it continued that way.

"With Hannibal." Walter nodded.

"And you're ok with that?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"You always have a choice, Wally," Alana assured. "Will will give you that choice."

"I'm ok with it."

Before Alana could speak again, the door opened and Morgan stepped in, looking between them. "Wally, did you still want to see the horses?" the young boy asked curiously.

"Morgan, leave him alone," Margot warned from somewhere in the next room.

"I want to see the horses," Walter said quickly, anything to get out of this room and away from Alana.

---

The tv blared and Will stared at it blankly in the new home he was in. He hadn't bothered taking in the details, his mind still far too cloudy to care. God, he wanted the tv off. The sound was too loud, making his ears want to bleed, but he couldn't find the strength to move and fix the problem.

The light in the room was too bright. It was hot. What was this feeling? He was overheating in the fluorescents, melting like ice cream in the summer. Burning on the sun, but he didn't move.

Anxiety was creeping into his system, keeping him still and silent. Or maybe it hadn't really left, just drumming through him continuously. It was making it hard to breathe. His chest was constricted. He wasn't himself. His mind wasn't his. He was letting himself be swept up into too many swirling emotions that made him sick. It was overwhelming. An information download overload, but there was nothing to pull himself from it.

And then everything was cold. So very cold. The sun had shifted to the dark side of the moon, temperatures arctic. Will sputtered, gasping, hand going to his face and wiping water from his skin. He shivered at the continuing spray and was met with worried red eyes.

"Stop slipping away from me, Will," Hannibal stated softly, a hand reaching out to take Will's face. "You weren't responsive. I'm sorry for the cold shower."

Will blinked and glanced around at a modest looking bathroom that was nowhere near as fantastical as the other homes that they had lived in before. He shivered in his dripping clothes and Hannibal reached up to turn the water off.

His breathing slowly settled and he took Hannibal's outstretched hand to help pull himself from the bottom of the shower.

"Please stop retreating into your own head. I don't want to lose you." Hannibal pulled Will close, ignoring the wet clothes and hugged the man tightly.

"Hannibal," Will sighed through chattering teeth. Hannibal pulled him from the bathroom and Will found himself in a decent sized master bedroom with a king sized bed, but again, nothing too outrageously expensive. The walls were a nice white and the bed spread a green so deep it was nearly black. "I'm sorry. I just... I'm so muddled right now." He let Hannibal's hands work his shirt up and over his head and then pulled at the pants around his waist until Will was fully undressed and clutching his arms, still shivering and wishing he was back under the glare of the fake fluorescent sun in the living room. "I have everyone in my head. Everyone wants attention and wants me to feel what they're feeling. It's... overwhelming."

"Would you like to talk through it?" Hannibal asked affectionately as he found more clothing for Will. Will watched Hannibal closely as he moved, fetching things from the closet. Things that Will wouldn't normally wear, but he didn't fight as Hannibal held the clothing out to him to put on.

"Jack's there," Will muttered, letting boxers be pulled on and snug around his hips. "He's guilty and apologetic, but I don't really want to deal with it." Next came a pair of slacks that fit Will a little too well and Will nearly wanted to ask how Hannibal had gotten his measurements, but figured that there had been multiple ways for him to obtain the measurements if he truly wanted them. "And then there's Molly too. Betrayal and pain. Hurt. Depression. She's a mess." And then a button up shirt that was tailored as well. Will closed his eyes with a sigh as Hannibal buttoned it up and then pulled on the sleeves before buttoning those as well. "And Walter is closed off. There's anger there, but not much else."

"And me?" Hannibal questioned, pulling at the collar and straightening it, but letting a few of the buttons hang open at the top. Hannibal's hands rested on Will's chest and he gave a small smile.

"You're a breath of fresh air," Will answered truthfully. "A clarity that I desperately need."

"Do you have a migraine?" One of Hannibal's hands rose and he caressed at Will's cheek gently with the back of his fingers. Will closed his eyes and shook his head. "Good. We should get you something to eat. You haven't eaten anything in a while."

"I'm not in the mood to eat, Hannibal," Will whispered. "Have you slept? I don't remember much of what happened when we got here."

"I'm fine," Hannibal assured, letting Will go. "You need something to eat, Will. No fighting me. Something light. Come with me."

Hannibal left the room and Will glanced around the bedroom once more before leaving and following Hannibal. It was a long hallway that welcomed him with hardwood floors and generic art on the walls. There were two more bedrooms and then another bathroom in the same hall.

The hardwood continued through the whole house and Will turned the corner of the hall to find himself in the large open concept home. A living room that looked more comfortable than what Hannibal would have liked, but one that Will found rather welcoming. And a dining room with a humble table for maybe a family of four. The kitchen was on the larger side, but still nothing compared to other places that they had lived before.

"This... seems a little toned down for you," Will muttered, heading over to the kitchen to lean against the tiled counter while Hannibal rummaged through a brown paper bag on the far counter. "Did you go shopping?"

"You've been sleeping for a while. I was a bit surprised to find you in the living room when I got home." Hannibal turned around with a banana and passed it over to Will who slowly took it. He didn't really want to eat it, but it would make Hannibal happy and he really did need to eat something. He hadn't eaten since breakfast the day before. Hannibal waited for Will to take a bite of the banana before he went to work, putting food away. "And yes. This place is a little... toned down," Hannibal agreed, the words sounding odd from his lips. "Not every property I own is a palace, Will. We need something that helps us blend in, not just for comfort."

"You said you had multiple safe houses and different accounts?" Will asked around his mouthful of food, watching the muscles in Hannibal's back work from under his tight dress shirt.

"When I was taken into custody they seized my assets. The ones I let them find," Hannibal explained. "I have fingers in many pies and am very good at exploiting weaknesses to get what I need. I have endless resources for my needs and many contacts that wouldn't dare turn on me. I have endless aliases and paperwork to prove all of it. I can be whoever I want whenever I want. And I have the means to change my appearance if needed."

"Change your appearance?" Will asked curiously, head tipped to the side.

Hannibal gave a small nod as he put the shopping into the fridge. "I have had work done previously by my own hand, though it wasn't much. Things here and there."

Will's face scrunched up as he looked over Hannibal who met his gaze without anything to hold back. "I've seen pictures of you when you were younger. You don't look different."

"I haven't done anything extensive on my face, though I can if the needs arise. I'd rather not though." Hannibal sighed and moved around the counter to stand beside Will. He held out his left hand to Will and Will gave a confused look. "This is probably the biggest change that I've had performed for convenience of slipping away."

"Your hand looks normal," Will muttered, taking the hand into his own two so he could look over it closely.

"I had polydactylism."

"Polydac..." Will trailed off on the foreign word, still looking over Hannibal's hand.

"I had two middle fingers. I removed one of them. Easier to blend in without an extra ligament."

Will pulled Hannibal's hand closer and looked between his fingers, finding a dim scar there. "I never would have-"

"Some of my earlier crimes were done with the extra finger. I think it would be difficult to pin them on me when they're looking for someone with six fingers," Hannibal continued. "Though the hand is a bit stiffer now. Makes it a little difficult to play the harpsichord."

"What else did you have done?"

"You don't need to worry yourself over them," Hannibal assured, placing a kiss to Will's head.

Will smiled. "Was work done on your dick? Is that why you're not telling me?"

Hannibal frowned. "No. I did not."

"You sound so offended," Will laughed. Will pulled Hannibal closer by his hand until he could kiss the man who was back in his normal three piece suit, something comforting in the odd prints, but the paisley was gone this time in place of a solid colored tie. "Don't you dare change your face. I won't love you anymore."

"I'm glad to know that your love is shallow and skin deep," Hannibal grumbled and Will gave another small laugh, kissing the man again reassuringly.

"You're beautiful the way you are. I would hate to lose that, but your mind is much more important to me than your looks. I would pick your mind over your looks any day. If you need to change your appearance then I will accept you in any facet." Will's hands took Hannibal's cheeks and he pulled Hannibal closer, tilting his head down so that he could kiss into Hannibal's hair, trying to add definition to the fact that Will loved his mind. "I love you for being you, not for your dick and your cooking and your cheekbones and your irritating politeness, though they are all bonuses that I would miss, they do not make you you. They're not what makes you you, Hannibal."

"Thank you." Hannibal lifted his head back up and pressed a lingering kiss to Will's lips. "Are you feeling better?"

"Yes," Will answered, letting himself be kissed thoroughly. "You clear my mind, make it so I don't feel every emotion under the sun." Will gasped as Hannibal's hands clutched around him, pulling him in closer. "You know, we never did get to do anything last night."

"You're deflecting," Hannibal warned, chest clenching when Will's hips grinded against him. "You still haven't come to terms with what happened last night."

"I don't want to come to terms with what happened last night," Will muttered between their lips, trying to pull Hannibal closer. Will hadn't lied. Hannibal was a breath of fresh air when it came to his head. Even when he had encephalitis, Hannibal was his saving grace, who he went to for help and who he trusted. Hannibal was lucidity, clarity and coherence. "I just want you. That's all I want. Don't ruin the mood."

"What about Walter?" Hannibal asked as his fingers tangled into Will's damp curls.

"Hannibal," Will warned darkly. "Do not ruin the mood."

Hannibal gave a small sigh and broke away from Will, who frowned. "It is not healthy to ignore your own emotions, Will. I understand pushing others' out, you don't need all of those people in your head begging for your attention, but you can't run away from your own feelings."

Will pulled fully out of Hannibal's grip and left his side, going to the living room and sitting back down on the couch. He pulled one of the throw pillows to himself and clutched it to his chest.

Hannibal stared after the man for a moment and then slowly stepped over to the back of the couch. Hannibal's hands lowered to Will's shoulders, who tensed under the new pressure. Hannibal's fingers trailed under the collar of Will's shirt against flushed skin and rubbed into the back of his neck and through his curls.

"What are you thinking about, Will?" Hannibal asked. "Let me help you navigate. I'm your paddle, remember?"

"That I'm a horrible father for coming with you," Will replied strongly, catching Hannibal a bit off guard. He had expected to not get an answer at all, for Will to slowly sink back into himself. Hannibal didn't want to see Will fade away again. A choice, a huge life decision was in front of the empath and those were the moments when Hannibal found Will's mind deteriorating before it reset. Will had been doing so well. It had been several months and Hannibal knew that his own picture wasn't complete in Will's mind, but he didn't need it to be as long as Will still knew him, knew his name. "Am I horrible for coming with you."

"You feel like you abandoned your son," Hannibal clarified, though he didn't need to. Hannibal's fingers tangled into Will's curls and he could just make out the small sigh that the man gave as he relaxed.

"I suffer from an abandonment disorder among my many other mental illnesses that I have been blessed with." Will snorted with laughter at his own words before continuing on. "I just don't want to give Walter the same anxieties that I have. His mother is gone and what did I do? I didn't comfort him. I panicked and was of absolutely no use."

"It's a natural reaction, Will," Hannibal assured, fingers trailing back down, following the strong pulse in Will's neck and enticing a shiver from the man, who clutched on tighter to the pillow he held.

"And then I dumped him off at a stranger's house to run away with you," Will pressed on, though his voice was a bit more airy now under Hannibal's caresses. "I feel this overwhelming guilt and I don't know if it's mine or Jack's, but it's making me feel sick to my stomach."

"You did what you needed to do for your son. You've had too many complications with the FBI, they're not going to give you any more chances. Especially if Freddie Lounds gets a hold of the story."

"God, she's so-"

"Disagreeable," Hannibal offered gently.

"-rude."

Hannibal glanced down at Will with a curious look, fingers still tracing the vein in Will's neck. Will tipped his head to the side enough to expose his neck more and Hannibal's other hand slipped into Will's curls, tugging at his head to give Hannibal more room to work. Will moaned at the aggressive movement, but didn't argue.

Hannibal leaned down and his tongue trailed up the artery and then he pulled back enough to lightly blow on the mark he had made. Will's shoulders tensed up and he shivered, arms tightening around the pillow in his grasp. A low, stifled choking sound came from Will's throat and one of Will's hands quickly shot to his mouth to cover it. Hannibal snatched at Will's hand and pulled it away to find a reddened bite mark in Will's thumb.

"Never cover your mouth in front of me again, do you understand?" Hannibal asked in Will's ear. Will licked at his lips and gave a small nod with a whimper. "Good boy." Hannibal tugged at Will's curls again, dragging another sound out of Will that made him smile.

"Why didn't you kill her?" Will asked in a wrecked voice, eyes shut tightly.

"I tried once, but I think you got your hands on her," Hannibal breathed against Will's neck, fingers digging further into his curls to hold him in place. "It's a shame you didn't actually kill her."

"I wanted to," Will admitted, shivering into Hannibal's lips as he sucked at Will's pulse. "She pepper sprayed me."

Hannibal froze for a moment. "You never told me that."

"It wasn't-" Will broke off and cleared his throat, shifting slightly on the couch at the whisper of Hannibal's words against his skin. "It wasn't important."

"You being hurt is always important to me, Will." Will gave a small laugh as Hannibal nuzzled his nose into Will's neck.

"Kill her for me?" Will asked into the open, the words stunning him. He wasn't sure where they came from, but they were real and alive. Hannibal growled and bit into Will's neck, exciting a gasp from Will. "I want her dead, Hannibal."

"When everything settles down," Hannibal agreed, tongue soothing the dark mark that he had made. "When she has outlived her usefulness."

Will moaned as his head was pulled in the opposite direction and Hannibal's lips were back at his neck. "Hannibal?" Hannibal hummed in answer against Will's neck and Will did his best to ignore the way the vibrations made a chill race down his spine. "Were you serious?"

"About killing Miss Lounds?" he asked, free hand slipping under the unbuttoned collar of Will's shirt and flattening out against Will's chest to explore. Will shook his head, but his mouth wasn't working anymore, so wrapped up in all that was Hannibal. His scent was assaulting, freshly washed and that aftershave made Will dizzy. Always so dizzy. "Then what are you referring to Will?"

"Does your head get foggy like mine does?" Will asked, the last train of thought he had completely lost and maybe never coming back, though he was certain it was important. Will sunk further into the couch at teeth on his ear, biting and lips sucking. "Fuck."

"Language, Will," Hannibal warned against Will's ear. "Foggy, no. But my heart races. It's unnerving."

An unnatural sound ripped from Will's throat and his hand was snatched up by Hannibal as he tried to cover his mouth unconsciously once more, a hot tongue pressed into his ear. Will's body trembled, holding onto the pillow in a death grip at the new sensation that was so horribly pleasant that it sent a hot blush down his chest.

"Focus Will," Hannibal instructed before biting the top of Will's ear. "Push through the fog. What were you asking me?"

"No," Will whimpered with a small shake of his head that was quickly stopped by a sharp tug in his hair. Will bit his lips between his teeth as a gentle kiss was placed to his temple.

"I will stop if you don't answer me," Hannibal cautioned, another kiss going to Will's temple. "What were you asking me, darling boy?"

"Why do you call me boy?" Will swallowed, mouth dry.

"That's not the question." A kiss to his cheek. "Think Will." A kiss to his jaw. Will struggled to pull himself mentally free, the swirling mist over his mind more than welcomed as was Hannibal's hand back down his shirt. "What were you referring to?"

"Why do you call me boy?" Will repeated, hoping it would buy him some time to find his lost train.

"Your youth is entrancing."

Will snorted. "You're not that much older than me."

"You still hold an innocence to you that is mesmerizing," Hannibal explained, lips back at Will's temple, kissing there gently, trying to give Will a chance at clarity. "What were you asking me Will?"

Will inhaled deeply and closed his eyes, letting himself sink into his mind for a moment to follow the train track through an icy mountain, pain in his head, the train out of sight. He had been pushed from it, shoved off the back by a woman. A woman that Will didn't recognize. Will winced with a sharp inhale through his teeth as a ravenstag guided him down the train tracks through the night, body aching.

"You're safe, remarkable boy," Hannibal's voice assured from somewhere far off, a whisper through the wind. "Don't let the memory distract you."

"Were you serious about what you said about my son?"

There was a hum by Will's ear and Will slowly pulled himself from Hannibal's grip enough to turn on the couch and look up at the man, whose grip had come untangled from Will until Will was settled. Hannibal's hands returned to Will, one brushing through curls that had dried in a mess from Hannibal's grip and the other carefully tracing the new bruising around Will's neck.

"Yes," Hannibal settled on after a moment of silence. His eyes flickered up to Will as his hand closed around Will's throat. The empath didn't flinch at the grip, just allowed Hannibal to palm at his pulse that was racing.

"You'll take us both to Europe?"

"I have a villa in Venice that's right on the water. There's a garden in the back with an olive tree. Several floors, a harpsichord, a balcony looking out at the ocean and our own dock. You can sail your boat."

"And you really mean to include Walter in this life you've thought up?" Will asked, pulling his bottom lip into his teeth when the words left him. He knew Hannibal had pictured it strictly for the two of them. A mixture of what both of them loved. Something that would make both of them happy. Somewhere they could be themselves.

Hannibal sighed and released Will before moving around the couch to sit beside the boy, hand reaching out to take one of Will's. "I figured you were packaged together from the moment you wouldn't run away with me," Hannibal answered, bringing Will's hand to his mouth so he could kiss at his knuckles, lips dreamily hot. Teeth scraped against Will's knuckle and Will looked away with a shiver, blush decorating his cheeks. "The boy will stay with us. I will take care of him."

"He's not your son," Will pointed out, keeping his eyes tightly on the pillow in his hand. "You don't have to-"

"I promise to take care of him. Of both of you."

Will's eyes slid shut at another nip at his knuckle, breathing out with another shiver. "You promise?" he asked, letting Hannibal's hand cup his face and pull him forward. His breath was stolen from his lungs as lips pressed to his own.

"I promise," Hannibal whispered when he broke the kiss to find dazed blue eyes looking up at him behind dark lashes. "Someplace safe where he can grow up, the best schooling we can find for him. He will want for nothing."

"Hannibal..." Will trailed off, there clearly meant to be more to the sentence, but Hannibal didn't push it. Will leaned forward and kissed Hannibal again, hands reaching out to push Hannibal back. Will carefully climbed over the top of Hannibal, straddling the man once he had leaned back into the couch, head propped up on the armrest. He kissed Hannibal again, fingers getting tangled in Hannibal's tie as it undid the knot there. "You're too perfect. You do so much more than you need to."

"The answer is always yes for you Will. Forever yes."

Will kissed Hannibal again, something soft but desperate as the cherry wine red silk was pulled free from Hannibal's neck and left to tumble to the hardwood.

"I love you."

"I love you, too."