Morgan was odd, Walter had decided on. He wasn't mean like the rich kids at his school were, but he wasn't not mean either. He had a different way of going about insulting people. The insults were hidden well behind a smile and innocently said words. It made Walter hate him even more. Ok, maybe hate was a strong word. Maybe detest was better.

But Walter clung to the boy, using him as his only saving grace during the day. Morgan saved him from having to talk to Alana, who Walter was becoming more and more weary of the longer she hung around. He didn't mind Margot too much though. She was relatively quiet unless scolding Morgan, which was few and far between.

The horses were lovely. Walter had never seen a horse in person before and was shocked by how much bigger they were in life than they looked in movies. He liked one with a black coat named Apollo. All of the horses seemed to have the names of the Greek Gods, though Walter only knew a small portion of them. And he assumed they were Greek Gods. None of them were named after the planet, so... Greek and not Roman.

Margot had offered to take him riding, but Walter was hesitant until Alana said that they could continue their conversation from breakfast. Walter had never agreed to something he didn't want to do so quickly before. He let the woman who was much stronger than he thought she would be, hoist him up onto the horse and she climbed on behind him, arms going around him.

One on the reins, the other around his middle with a gentle warning not to hold onto the saddle because it would stiffen up his body and make him unbalanced. The horse rushed off into the cold morning air and Walter immediately wished he had a warmer coat than the thin flannel he had on, but he didn't care after a bit.

It felt good to be free for a moment. Away from everything and everyone, Margot not even really there in her silence. The wind blew his hair back and filled his lungs with an icy chill, but it made his chest feel more open, less constricted.

The grounds were pretty in their snowy painted background. Leafless tree branches clung to icicles as their new clothing and the snow gave a satisfying crunch under the horses hooves. All too soon it's over, the horse coming to a stop, but not back at the stables. They're near what looks like a pond that was partly frozen over, the edges melted away and showing the calm surface.

Margot climbed from the horse and helped Walter down who looked around curiously, stepping closer to the pond and to the frozen reeds, picking at one of them, the brown fibers crackling in his hand.

"It looked like you needed a moment to just think," Margot said with a small smile in her voice. "We can stay out here as long as you need, Wally. I know Alana can sometimes be a bit overbearing."

Walter looked back over his shoulder curiously as Margot led the horse to the edge of the water so it could drink. "You're not going to try to probe me like she did, are you?"

"Not unless you want to talk,'' Margot stated with pursed lips, petting the horse's long neck. "I will listen if you want to. But I understand the comfort with silence and pretending that the world doesn't exist for a moment or two."

And so there was silence. A very nice and long and comfortable silence as Walter knelt down and pushed pieces of ice around in the pond with one of the stale reeds. The first time he had been able to fully think all morning, a quiet space needed. He held onto the words of others far too much to have his own thoughts sometimes. Not feelings. He didn't feel their feelings like his father had explained, but he held to their thoughts to the point where he sometimes wondered if he ever had any original thoughts of his own or if they were all manufactured from his surroundings.

"Is it wrong for me to be so accepting?" Walter asked into the stillness of the late morning air as he tossed the reed into the pond and rose back to his feet. Margot was quiet, waiting for the boy to continue, unsure if she was meant to answer or not, not that she would be opposed to answering, she knew some people preferred to work aloud than in their heads. "I wasn't always accepting. I think I learned it when Will married my mom. Just this idea that this was how life was and there wasn't a reason to let it affect me or hurt."

"Radical Acceptance," Margot supplied, having heard the term from Alana every now and then when she would come home from work stressed. "It's a distress tolerance tool," Margot further explained at a curious expression.

"Alana thinks I'm hiding, building walls. She doesn't have to say it for me to know it's true. Do you think I'm building walls?" Walter stepped closer to the horse and reached out a hesitant hand to pet the large creature on the nose.

"I'm not a doctor."

Walter gave a small nod. "It's refreshing at the moment."

Margot smiled lightly. "Do you want to feed Alcander?" She opened a pack on the side of the saddle and pulled out a green apple, handing it over to Walter who took it. "Just hold it out in your palm."

Walter did as instructed and smiled when the apple was pulled from his hand with large teeth and searching lips. The apple crunched in the horse's mouth before he returned to digging through the snow in search of any grass that could be eaten.

"I don't think you're building walls," Margot said hesitantly, as if she didn't want to step on whatever Alana had already concluded was wrong with him. "I don't think there is anything wrong with accepting what the world is offering you. But you also don't have to take it. You can put up a fight. You don't have to accept."

"I don't think my situation is one I can exactly fight," Walter said with a small shrug. "I don't even know if I want to. My dad will come back for me and then everything will be normal-ish again. As normal as it can be."

"You're taking this quite well," Margot noted and Walter gave a nod, petting the horse once more. "And you're sure that you're ok?"

Walter sighed, irritated. "I'm fine. Really."

"I think we're all just worried about you Wally," Margot said sweetly. "Enough said though. Would you like to go back or stay here for another little while?"

"Can we stay for a bit longer?"

"Of course."

"What are you reading?" Walter asked boredly. There was no TV in the house and he had ducked out of the ever watchful eyes of Alana, Margot letting him know where Morgan was. Doing homework in his room.

"The Great Gatsby," Morgan replied, eyes not leaving his book. "I have a report due on it."

"What about?"

"About the symbolism of the eyes of Doctor T. J. Eckleburg."

Walter sat down on the desk and Morgan gave him a scornful look before he returned to the page he was on. "I have no idea what that means." Walter kicked his legs as he looked around the boy's room that looked similar to the one he had stayed in, though this one had built-in bookshelves around the bed that held hundreds of books. Ones that all looked well read, discoloration in the spines from having been cracked open.

"He's meant to symbolize God looking down on the horrors of a city. There's a murder that happens in front of the billboard. God sees all, I suppose. I don't really find myself believing in a god. I suppose there could be some sort of unknown entity that made the universe, it makes sense, but to name it God would be-"

"No one cares," Walter muttered, the words jumping from his mouth before he had a chance to stop them. He winced, but Morgan didn't look up at him, just fell silent and continued in his story. "Sorry. Your mom is kinda stressing me out. I don't like the prying."

"She likes to dig her fingers into other people's business, but she does it to be helpful, not to hurt," Morgan defended quietly, a small bit of hurt in his voice. "She told me what happened. I'm sorry about your mom."

"Me too," Walter said softly with a small nod. "I still don't think that I really understand that she's gone yet. It's like... she's just gone shopping or something and she'll be back soon. But don't tell your mom. I'm really ok."

"Where's your dad?" Morgan closed the book and looked up at Walter who had found interest in the small Newton's cradle, the toy clacking loudly in the room as Walter let one of them go and the energy transferred through to the ball at the other end.

"I don't know. He went away to stay safe."

"He could have stayed here," Morgan offered, watching Walter shrug in his flannel, curious what the fabric felt like. He reached out his hand, but stopped when Walter tensed, eyes sharp. He didn't like to be touched, that was fine. Morgan didn't necessarily like touch either. "It's safe here too. Hanni was here for a while."

"Hanni?" Walter asked curiously, though his body didn't unshield itself, staying out of reach, but still seated on the desk. "Hannibal? He was here?"

"He stayed here while he was healing from an accident," Morgan answered with a small nod. He looked over Walter for a moment before he climbed up onto his chair and sat on the desk beside Walter who stared at Morgan with a frown. Imitating was not a form of flattery. "He's not like what they say about him."

"No," Walter agreed with a small nod. "He's nothing like what they say."

"He was very nice."

," Walter once more agreed, voice small as he thought back over the night before. Hannibal had done nothing to hurt them, he had been the one to help his mom. Hannibal had been kind, he had just tied them up as a precaution to protect himself. He was never going to hurt them, his words were said to snap back at whatever his mom had said to him. It took Walter looking at the memories from the outside to really pick out what Hannibal had been doing. "Kind."

"Hard to picture him as the monster they say he is." Morgan's legs began to follow Walter's in their swing subconsciously and Walter quickly stilled his movements, looking over Morgan with another frown.

"I guess he can turn it on and off," Walter muttered, eye sharp on the boy who was copying his movements.

"Your dad and Hanni like each other. Will would come over here a lot to see him."

Walter asked, mouth suddenly very dry at the idea that while Walter was struggling to live without a father figure, Will had been off in a dreamy haze of love, if it was love. They had kissed. It had been nearly more shocking than his mother being shot. "Why?"

Morgan shrugged. "I think they really liked each other. Hanni was sad whenever Will would leave. He was happier when Will was here, easier for my moms to deal with when Will had visited. He wasn't quite as bad of a guest. But if you couldn't walk, I think you would get pretty frustrated too."

"He was walking fine."

"He had some procedure done on his knee. Was on crutches for a long time. He used to let me try them, but they were too big for me. He's very tall." The fact was said nearly in a question, as if Morgan had to think about it for a moment. "Did you dad love your mom?"

"What?" Walter asked as the air was sucked from the room. He had been doing well enough with dealing with Alana's digging and Margot's gentle nudges, but he hadn't been ready for the child to push into him as well. And it was something that Walter couldn't block out like he had been able to do all day. There was a sharp jab in his ribs and his hands clenched. "Shut up." Walter hoped down from the desk with a scowl, hands fisted. "You have no right to-"

"I didn't mean to upset you. I just thought that Hannibal was your dad until my mom told me-"

"Hannibal is not..." Walter trailed off. Hannibal was. Will wasn't about to leave Hannibal. Walter knew that. Walter was more than well aware of how Hannibal had comforted Will in the car ride with more touches than what were normal. He was aware of the looks and the words, the pet names said in Lithuania to calm. And he had been brutally present for their kiss. Dr. Hannibal Lecter was as good as his father, and he just needed to accept that. That's what everything boiled down to, didn't it? "Shut up Morgan. You don't know anything. Go play with your books or something."

"You read books," Morgan corrected with a slightly offended tone.

"No one cares."

"Boys, time for dinner!" Alana's voice called in the distance.

Walter frowned, but went for the door, tiny Morgan following after him with The Great Gatsby in hand.

Will woke from a sleep he couldn't remember entering and was greeted with the light sounds of Bach in the air and the scent of cooking. Will inhaled deeply of the smell he couldn't exactly place, and opened his eyes. He was curled up on the couch, a blanket had been draped over the top of him and a pillow placed beneath his head.

Will slowly sat up and stretched the sore muscles in his shoulders, catching the last rays of the sun before they disappeared for the long winter nights. Will rose from the couch, the blanket being pushed aside as he straightened his very wrinkled dress shirt.

His eyes rested on Hannibal who was busy in the kitchen. Will gave a fond smile and wandered his way over to the stove. He circled his arms around Hannibal's waist and hid his face into Hannibal's warm shoulders. He thought he could feel Hannibal flinch, but it wasn't nearly enough for Will to register it as anything serious.

"Did you sleep well?" Hannibal asked, as he continued sautéing what looked like garlic, onions and some shrimp that were beginning to turn a light pink.

"Yes," Will answered softly. "I'm sorry I fell asleep. I don't even remember letting myself."

"Your body needs rest. It went through a shock. Do not be sorry," Hannibal stated with a kind tone.

"It smells really good," Will complimented from where he hid himself into Hannibal's back. "What is it?"

"Shrimp and grits. I hope that pleases you."

Will gave a nod, inhaling deeply once more, arms tightening around Hannibal. Hannibal twisted awkwardly in Will's grip and Will pulled back swiftly, afraid that he had somehow hurt the man. Hannibal gave him a small smile over his shoulder. "Sorry," he muttered in a deeply apologetic tone. "I need to check something in the oven. Do you want to find something to drink tonight? There's some bottles in the pantry."

Will took a step back and slowly moved to the pantry that Hannibal indicated to while Hannibal opened up the over and reached into it with a dishcloth. Will gleaned over the options in the pantry before pulling a green bottle out. A 2015 Truchard Chardonnay.

Will stepped back into the kitchen where Hannibal had set out a dish of steaming cornbread, what looked like homemade honey butter as well as the shrimp and grits. He gave an approving smile and took the chardonnay from Will's hands with a gentle kiss before going to work in opening the bottle.

"Dishes are above the sink," Hannibal said in an open instruction. Will fetched two plates and found the silverware drawer returning to the counter to take a glass of white wine and Hannibal served them and Will found himself being guided with a hand to the small of his back to the dining table.

Dinner was wonderful, as it always was. There was always something so comforting when Hannibal made something specifically for Will. And Will was certain it was to make up for the night before when they didn't have a chance to eat, but he didn't care. It was warm and reminded Will of home. Hannibal was home.

Will inhaled deeply, eyes closed as he finished his last bite, content. So content to be right there in that dining room. So content to have Hannibal's eyes on him. So content to hear Hannibal's genuine curiosity with the veil of a smile over it.

"What's that look for?"

Will didn't open his eyes, simply inhaled deeply once more, letting the air fill his cold chest. "You're perfect."

There was a soft chuckle. "Far from," Hannibal assured.

"I just want to stay in this moment."

"Is it that blissful?" Hannibal asked. Will nodded in answer. "Would you like anymore to eat?" Will shook his head. "Can I keep staring at you?"

Will licked at his lips and could feel a heat rise to his cheeks, his palms sweating. He wiped his palms against his thighs and gave another small nod. Will could feel the heat from Hannibal's gaze as the man's eyes trailed down his body, Will too embarrassed by the intrusive question to open his eyes.

"Can I touch you?"

Will shivered at the words with a nod and he could feel a warm hand caress down his arm, the fabric in the way of skin on skin, but Will supposed it was better that he was able to contain himself, though being had on this table was starting to sound wonderful.

There was a sharp heat beside Will and he sighed as a nose nudged at his ear.

"Can I kiss you?"

"Yes," Will said breathlessly, the air that wasn't in his lungs somehow stolen from him with unexpectedly warm lips. So warm that when the kiss ended, Will's eyes opened with concern creasing his brows. "Hannibal?" Will asked, hands reaching up to take Hannibal's face, but Hannibal moved before Will had the chance. Hannibal took both plates from the table and to the sink, setting them down before returning to the table to pick up his wine glass and taking a small sip. Will looked over Hannibal's face carefully. It was pale, with a green hue to it, though his cheeks were flushed pink, a sheen of sweat over his skin. "Hannibal, are you alright?"

Will got to his feet and reached out a hand to Hannibal, who took another calculated step back and out of Will's reach. Will sighed in annoyance and took a step forward, taking Hannibal's wrist in his. He took the wine glass from Hannibal's fingers and placed it back on the table before dragging the killer closer to him.

"You look sick," Will whispered, one hand holding Hannibal in place while the other reached out. "Are you feeling alright?"

"Fine," Hannibal answered, making Will frown.

"Don't lie to me." Will placed the back of his fingers to Hannibal's cheek where a burning heat was across Hannibal's skin. Will's hand moved to Hannibal's forehead and he frowned. Then dropped to his neck, the back of his fingers only finding more inescapable heat there as well. "You have a fever. Why didn't you say anything earlier?"

"I'm fine Will," Hannibal assured, pulling himself from Will's grip.

He returned to the sink and Will frowned as Hannibal turned on the water to do dishes. Will moved over when both of Hannibal's hands took the edge of the sink and Will watched in slow motion as Hannibal's knees gave way under him. Will raced forward and caught Hannibal's body before Hannibal could hit the floor.

"Hey," Will scolded, arm tight around Hannibal's waist as he helped Hannibal gain his balance again. Will turned off the sink and sighed. "Let's get you into bed. I'll clean up dinner." Will nodded towards the hall and with an arm over his shoulder and his own arm tightly around Hannibal's waist, Will helped take Hannibal back and into their room. He rested Hannibal down on the bed, sitting down on the edge, fingers brushing damp hair from Hannibal's face. "Let's get you cleaned up. You need sleep."

Will got to his feet and went to the bathroom, wetting down a cloth with cool water before returning to the bed where Hannibal was attempting to sit up. Will rushed over and took Hannibal's shoulder, forcing him back down into the mattress.

"No, you don't," Will said forcefully. "Let me take care of you, Hannibal. We'll get you some medicine and you'll sleep and be good as new in the morning."

Will placed the wet cloth to Hannibal's forehead, gently patting down the man's fevered skin, cleaning the sweat that was there. Hannibal shivered as the washcloth pressed into his neck, chills racking his body.

Will slowly unbuttoned Hannibal's shirt, pulling it open to dab the wet cloth over his skin there as well. Will's hands paused as he came to a bandage near Hannibal's left rib cage. Around the bandaging the skin was hot and spotted with angry red.

"Hannibal, what happened?" Will asked softly, pulling the shirt fully open to look at the marking that was there.

"Jack," Hannibal got out weakly, breathing short. Why hadn't Will noticed earlier? Was he that dense? Just wanted so badly to be in his own head instead of everyone else's? Was Hannibal asking for help earlier when he asked what Will felt about him? "He got me with the knife when I wrestled the gun from his hand."

"You didn't clean it properly, did you?" Will demanded, voice harsher than he meant it, but there was a sickly feeling creeping up through his chest that made his tense, on edge. "It's infected."

"Sepsis, if I had to guess," Hannibal answered, licking at his lips.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Will's hands worked carefully, though his fingers were stiff. He pulled back the bandage and looked over the mark that was there. The gauze was red with blood and yellow with another liquid. "Damn it, Hannibal. What do I do?"

"Wash and rebandage it. There's antiseptic and bandages under the sink."

Will jumped to his feet, heading back into the bathroom and tossing the rag on the sink. He ripped open the cabinets and pulled out the items that Hannibal had indicated. Will carefully cleaned at the wound, watching Hannibal's hands fist weakly into the bedspread under him. Once cleaned and bandaged again, Will fetched sleepwear for Hannibal and helped the man into the bed.

"What else do you need?" Will asked, hands frantically running over Hannibal's face. This wasn't done. Not in a long shot. Blood poisoning wasn't something that just went away. "There has to be some medication or something." Hannibal's eyes stayed shut and his breathing was so faint Will began to shake. "Asshole, stay with me for a moment longer." Hannibal's eyes flickered open at the insult, though half lidded. "Tell me what you need. I-I don't know what to do to help you."

"Antibiotics," Hannibal replied. "Rocephin, Merrem, Fortaz, Claforan." Will blinked at the weird names and did his best to add them to memory. "Things like that."

"Things like that?" Will bit out bitterly. "What else Hannibal? I don't even know where to find these things. Are they over the counter or am I going to have to-"

"Any vet or shelter should have most of them."

The words made Will clench his hands so tightly that his nails cut into his palms. "Damn it, Hannibal." Will got to his feet, hands in his hair. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"You'd-" there was a choked breath, "-worry..."

Will's eyes looked over Hannibal, wanting to be soft, but he was so fucking pissed. They had narrowly escaped being taken in by Jack and Jack still had his grip in them. Hannibal had let Jack tag along with them.

"Of course I'd worry Hannibal!" Will shouted, knowing this wasn't the time but unable to stop the anger from jumping at the man in bed who seemed to be deteriorating more and more by the second. "After everything we've gone through, after everything- Fuck me." Will ran his hands over his face. "If I get these medicines, what are the doses?"

"Each of them every four hours."

"They can all be taken together?" Will asked. There wasn't an answer and Will felt his heart sink. He had to pass out now? "Fuck me."

Will knew better than to mix medications. He had done it once in a desperate attempt to calm a migraine and a head cold and had ended up with a bad mix of Dayquil and Tylenol that threw him for a three day spiral and did wonders on his liver, he was sure.

First he had to get the medication before he started dabbling in alchemy. He leaned over and checked Hannibal's breathing with the back of his hand and gave a sigh. "I'll be back soon," he assured, though he didn't know if Hannibal heard him. He leaned over and placed a kiss to Hannibal's fevered forehead and left the room.

He went to the kitchen and looked around until he found a single set of keys on the counter and then Hannibal's now emptied backpack in the closet and then raced out of the house and to the truck that they had driven here. Will glanced at his surroundings, taking in the small suburb that they were in. Something nice and not too expensive, but he didn't have time to think much about it now.

No, right now he was more worried over trying to find somewhere to get the medication, whose names were quickly fading from Will's mind the more he tried to hold onto them. He knew he was in Vermont. That was a start, but that was all Will knew. He had never been to Vermont. He didn't know what city they were in or where town was or if there would even be a pet clinic around here. He had no means to the internet or a phone and it was far too late for him to ask someone and he wasn't going to go knock on some neighbor's door to find out.

Will climbed into the truck and sighed. Hannibal had gotten him into this situation and it was such shit. Will wasn't sure he had ever been so incredibly angry with Hannibal before. Not even when Hannibal had tried to kill him or framed him for murders, not when he was drugged and used and experimented on. None of that was as bad as this and maybe that was backwards, but to Will it was true.

Will put the truck in drive and left the cul de sac, the speed limit meaning nothing to him in the winding streets he had to find his way out of. Will found the main road and gave a breath of relief, hoping he would be able to find his way back home again.

There was a line of shops that Will eventually found, searching each one carefully until he found the one he wanted. A small pet shelter at the end of the road. Will parked the car under a dead streetlamp and jumped from the truck, the backpack over his shoulder, looking around the building until he found a window in the back. Will's eyes danced over the glass that had puppies drawn on it in that glass chalk. Will inhaled deeply of the cold night air, pulled his jacket on to protect his arms and rammed his elbow into the glass. The glass shattered and rained down into the parking lot and Will shook the glass from his hair, ignoring the sharp pain and heat in his elbow. He was more concerned over whether there would be an alarm or not.

When nothing went off, Will climbed in through the window and looked around at the back room for a moment before racing to cabinets and throwing them open hoping he would remember what the antibiotics were called that Hannibal had told him, praying that he knew what they would be spelled like.

And he found them, eventually. He found all of them, but they were all liquid. Will shoved as many of each as he could into the backpack and then dug through more cabinets under the counters until he found several brown boxes. He pulled one to him and used his keys to dig into the packing tape, ripping open the box to find single use syringes in their own self packaging.

He probably didn't need two boxes, but he wasn't about to fuck around. With the backpack stuffed to the point of the zippers threatening to break and two boxes under his arms, Will climbed back out of the window and went back to the truck. Now he just had to find his way back home.

It took a moment or two for Will to find the right cul de sac, but the moment he found the house, he threw the truck back in park ignoring the angry grinding of gears. He jumped from the truck and raced back into the house, locking the door behind him before rushing back into the bedroom.

Will set everything on the bed and quickly moved over to Hannibal who hadn't moved an inch, brow furrowed in discomfort, breathing shallow and low. Will shook Hannibal gently and those muggy red eyes blinked open.

"Will," Hannibal whispered, mouth dry. "Water."

Will nodded and ran back to the kitchen, getting a glass of ice water not caring if some of it spilt on the hardwood as he raced back. He went back to the bed and set the glass on the side table before carefully helping Hannibal sit up. Hannibal leaned back against the headboard, eyes closed as he shivered.

"Hannibal," Will called softly, sitting on the side of the bed and grabbing the cup of water. He placed the cup to Hannibal's lips, but when he tilted the glass, water spilt down Hannibal's chin. Will held to Hannibal's chin to try to keep his head steady, but ended up with the same result. Will wasn't sure what else to do and he was very nearly certain that Hannibal would not have invested in anything of the likes of bendy straws or sippy cups.

Will placed the cup to his lips, pulling the chilled water into his mouth before leaning over and placing his mouth to Hannibal's. He was pleading silently with Hannibal to be conscious enough to process what Will was doing and maybe God did exist because Hannibal opened his mouth and drank slowly from Will's lips. Will sighed into the kiss in relief, a hand brushing back Hannibal's damp hair.

"More?" he asked softly when he pulled back. Hannibal licked at his lips with a small nod and Will quickly repeated the action until Hannibal seemed satisfied. "I got what you asked for," Will explained, setting the cup aside and grabbing for the backpack. "I-I don't know what to do with them though." Will ripped open the backpack and dumped the contents out onto the bed, picking up one of the many boxes and pulling it open, dumping the contents into his hand. "I have to mix them?"

"There's instructions on the box," Hannibal explained. "Did you-did you-"

"Shh," Will interrupted, a hand gently caressing Hannibal's flushed cheek. "I've got more than enough sterile needles. It's been a while since I've done drugs though, so I hope I'm ok with finding your veins."

"Drugs?"

Even when Hannibal was high with a fever and being betted against by death himself, he was still curious. Still wanting to know everything there was to know, even if his mind wouldn't remember.

"I thought it would stop all of the people that like to live in my head," Will explained as he picked up the box and read over the instructions on it. "It worked for a bit, but then I had to use stronger things. A detective picked me out of the gutter and cleaned me up. Went to the police academy when I was clean." Will placed the box aside and inhaled deeply, getting to work on mixing the medication. "I can administer all of these at the same time?" Will looked up at a weak nod. "Every four hours?"

"Yes," Hannibal whispered, body still shaking with chills, his hands pulling blindly at the blankets around his middle. Will reached out and helped cover Hannibal in the blanket that was damp with sweat. He would need to find another one, maybe change the sheets too. "What was your vice?"

"Heroin," Will replied, reaching for the box and pulling out a package. "I tried cocaine once, but it just made everything worse. I was too mentally alert, hypersensitive to sight, sound, and touch. It was a bad combination."

Will opened the syringe package and pulled the stopper from the needle, dipping it into the mixed drug, filling the syringe to the right dosage. He placed the bottle aside and took Hannibal's arm in his hand. Hannibal watched him carefully and Will was curious if he actually understood what was going on or if he was just on some autopilot setting.

Will flicked at the vein in his forearm until he could see it and then pressed the needle into Hannibal's skin. Hannibal didn't acknowledge the intrusion at all, just kept his barely opened eyes on Will. With that syringe empty, Will placed it back in its bag and placed it on the bedside table, reaching for the next box of medication and a new needle.

With everything administered, Will set an alarm on his phone for two and gathered up all of the used items to throw them away. "Let's get you into something more comfortable before you fall back to sleep," Will said, frowning at the shake of Hannibal's head. "You don't have a fucking say in this, Hannibal. Not right now," Will hissed as he wet the washcloth once more. He tossed it onto the bedside table and went to the dresser, searching until he found sleep pants and a light cotton t-shirt. Will set them on the edge of the bed and quickly cleaned up the mess, moving everything into the bathroom and setting them on the counter, keeping the bathroom light on and the door ajar to be able to see.

He changed Hannibal carefully into the sleep pants and pulled off the sweat damp dress shirt. "Would you like any more water?" Will asked as he reached for the wet cloth. Hannibal shook his head and winced as the cold was placed against his forehead, gently patting away the sweat across his skin. Will bit his lip, trying to hold back the words that were swirling around in his head. He didn't need to say them, it would just make everything worse, but the dam broke. "Do you have any idea how much I fucking hate you right now?"

Hannibal shook his head, but he didn't seem bothered by the words, he seemed more focused as the cloth found its way to his neck.

"I am so pissed off at you," Will continued, his words harsh, but his actions gentle as he continued to clean Hannibal's skin of sweat and salt. "I can't believe you would keep something like this from me, let something get this bad and still not fucking tell me. Are you shitting me?!" The sentence got away from him, loud in the quiet room, making Hannibal wince. "If you live through this, if-if-" Will clenched his teeth and scoffed, tossing the rag aside and grabbing the t-shirt, pulling Hannibal forward with a firm hand on Hannibal's shoulder. He pulled the shirt over Hannibal's head and through his teeth continued. "If you ever lie to me ever again, I will kill you myself. I'm not kidding Hannibal. If you hide something or lie to me, you will join your displays. I will hang you from a tree and decorate your insides with thirty pieces of silver after I spill your guts. And then I will meet you in the lowest levels of hell and watch as the devil himself chews on your body for eternity."

"Beautiful."

The word made Will's hands still and he blinked a few times, face relaxing, before sighing. "Of course you would think that beautiful," Will grumbled, feeling like his threat no longer held any weight. He helped Hannibal lay back down and pulled the blankets up and over him. "Get some sleep," Will instructed. "I'll be back for your next dose. Please don't..." Will trailed off, biting his bottom lip. "Please don't die between now and then, Hannibal. Please wake up when I come back. Because I really, I do..." Will trailed off, feeling his jaw tremble and he swallowed hard, biting back the tears. "I love you, Hannibal."