Encephalitis. That's what had caused the heat in Will's head and the sweating that soaked his skin, though he wasn't exactly certain how he knew that's what the problem was.
And the name on his lips was a strange name. Something from a faraway place that Will had never been. But no, that wasn't quite right, was it? Will had been there before. Had stepped through a personal graveyard and looked over a looming castle on the cliff side.
The fever pulled the name from his mouth in heated syllables. He called that name until the fever broke. Until the heat disappeared, leaving him in a cold sweat, shivering in the winter night air that surrounded his bed.
He pushed himself from the bed, legs weak. He was back in Wolf Trap. Back on his farm and he prayed that his mind continued to stay good to him, didn't let him slip back into the agitated heat that had finally released his body.
All of the windows and doors were wide open, letting the crisp air circle around the living room that Will had made his bedroom. The moon still hung through the open window, but the night was so black that it sounded like it was humming.
An awful noise filled the air, shaking the house. A scream in the woods somewhere. It was a woman's voice. One that Will felt like he recognized, but he couldn't quite place. Something nearly inhuman about it.
Will's feet moved without thought, rushing him out and into the night, bare feet running through the snow. The coldness swiftly turned into a burn, heat under his feet that were turning red. His lungs ached from the chill in the air as he followed the sound through trees with sharp branches, hands empty.
Will came to a stop in the snow at a small creature, crying. Will's breath swirled away into the humming void that no longer had the moon to light it. Will stepped closer, finding a fox curled up under a tree, fur red, but for different reasons.
The animal shook, afraid. When it caught sight of Will, the fox fell silent and Will didn't utter a word, unsure if it would make a sound out here in the woods all alone. Will glanced over the creature, finding its back leg broken, bone glittering white from the quickly returning moonlight. Will knelt down, hands digging in the snow until he found a large stone with trembling hands, raising it above his head. He would end the fox's pain.
Will's hands stilled. What had caused the wound? The closer Will looked, the more the markings were familiar to him. How large were the teeth that had done this? How powerful was the jaw? Something mechanical. Will wasn't sure how he knew, but he knew. That was the hum in the night. Hydraulics sounding through the trees.
Will could feel them now. Eyes watching him. But they came from every angle. Eyes that were obsidian, somehow darker than the night that was once again missing the moon. Will's heart thudded in his chest as he got back to his feet, following each set of eyes the best that he could.
A whisper blew through the unearthly trees on a frostbitten wind, words in a voice he knew well.
When the fox hears the rabbit scream, he comes running. But not to help.
Will froze. Not only was the fox near death, but whatever attacked it, didn't kill it. Whatever attacked the thing was killing for fun, and the torture of it was practically a game now.
The creature lunged and Will turned to run, trying to save a life he knew he didn't have. He felt like a deer trying to outrun a gun, only a bullet wouldn't be what snatched him. What would catch him would be long claws and sharp cheekbones and tangled antlers.
The pain was brilliant and smoky, claws ripping through his abdomen, spilling blood onto the white snow, staining the crystals dark. Will clutched at his life with shaking hands, wishing it would keep.
"My dearest love," the humanoid creature said in a tone similar to the whispers in the wind. "I'm not done yet. There are still years left for you to bear."
Will gasped with a shout, sitting up in the dark, struggling to free himself from the straitjacket of sheets and blankets that surrounded him. His arms shook so badly that his hands wouldn't work. Pain ripped at his scar, something phantom but so very real, the knife cutting into him once more.
He was frantic, only seeming to trap himself further in the sticky spider's web. Obsidian claws snatched at him and a cry tore from his chest as thin and bony arms restricted his movements. He fought against them. Fought like hell.
"Will."
The word didn't make sense. It was another language in his ear. Something alien.
The claws of one hand tangled into his curls, the other held firmly to his chest, keeping him in place as if he were cemented to the bed. Panic didn't ebb, it flowed freely and he struggled to get free.
"Will." Claws ran through sweat damp curls. "Will, breathe." The other arm circled his chest firmly, keeping his lurching body trapped. "Will, breathe with me."
Hannibal. The realization struck Will forcefully and he felt the fight crumble, body weak, feeling as if he could cry, though his heart did nothing to calm its beating and his chest rose and fell in hyperventilation as fox's screams rattled through his head.
"Match your breathing to mine, Will," Hannibal instructed gently. Will could feel the doctor's chest press into his back as the arm around his chest dragged him into it. "Focus."
A slow inhale was pressed into Will's spine and he gasped, pulling air into his lungs far too quickly, the oxygen burning. The terror kept his breathing too full and too fast, painful. Hannibal's hand found his sternum, pushing into it to guide Will's exhale.
They sat in the dark, rolling in and out of inhales and exhales as one until the hysteria slowly withdrew from Will's bones, leaving his skin cold and body shaking and frail. Hannibal's hands didn't move and Will was grateful for the grounding hold as he let his body collapse into Hannibal's chest. Hannibal rocked him gently and Will's eyes slid closed, head falling back onto Hannibal's shoulder.
"Good," Hannibal whispered intimately in Will's ear. Something soft and comforting as fingers brushed through his curls, other hand still firm on Will's chest. "Good, Will. Keep breathing with me." A kiss was pressed into his cheek and Will could feel a heat start to blossom at the touch, warming his frozen skin. "I've got you, silly boy. You're safe." Will couldn't hold back a small sob as tears stung the corners of his eyes, hot with exhaustion. He hadn't been asleep long. Hannibal's alarm hadn't gone off for his next dose yet. "Hush," Hannibal shushed softly, grounding hold tightening on Will. "It's alright. Nothing is going to hurt you while I'm here Will."
Will shook his head with a deep inhale that broke the pattern that Hannibal had set and Will could feel Hannibal's hand at his chest start working once more, adding pressure to aid in his exhale.
"Focus Will. Stay with me," Hannibal instructed, lips skimming over Will's ear, whether on purpose or on accident, Will couldn't be sure. "Breathe with me."
Will licked at his lips as hot tears rolled down his cheeks. "I'm so tired, Hannibal," Will gasped out, chest jumping with another sob. "I just want to sleep."
"You can sleep, Will. I won't let anything touch you," Hannibal's voice was reassuring in Will's ear.
"They won't leave my head." Will tried to pull from Hannibal with a stifled whine, but Hannibal kept Will pinned with surprisingly strong arms. "They keep trying to pull me from you."
"Quiet your mind Will. You don't have to listen to their voices. You can block them out. Be in this moment. Right here, right now with me."
"My name is Will Graham. It is a Saturday and I am in bed with my very alive Hannibal Lecter." Will's head fell forward with a cry, but fingers in his curls pulled him back and massaged at his scalp. "My name is Will Graham," Will repeated softly, trying to place his focus on Hannibal's heat, Hannibal's fingers and hands, Hannibal's breathing. His breathing. His heart was still beating. "It is a Saturday and I am in bed with my very alive-very- v-v-very alive Hannibal Lecter." Will did his best to stop his words and breath from stuttering. "You're alive." It was a fact that Will clung to for dear life. "You're alive, Hannibal."
"Yes," Hannibal agreed softly. "I'm alive. I'm here with you. You are safe."
"My name is Will Graham and I am safe." Will took one last staggering breath and finally found Hannibal's rhythm once more. "I'm safe."
"So very safe," Hannibal assured, the words imprinting into Will's mind as sleep pulled dangerously at him.
"I want to sleep, Hannibal." Will's words were weak. "I just want to sleep."
"I'll protect you, my love." Hannibal continued his gentle rocking of Will and Will sank further into the hold, feeling like he was on one of his boats, the ocean waves gently lulling him into his exhaustion. He gave a stifled yawn. "Go to sleep."
"I don't want the voices there."
"They won't be there. I promise."
"Don't let me go." There was another yawn from Will and Hannibal could feel the empath's body slowly becoming heavier. "Don't-"
"I won't." Hannibal placed a whisper light kiss to Will's temple. Will's head tilted to the side on Hannibal's shoulder and Hannibal's hand left Will's chest to gently wipe away the tears on the boy's cheeks as he kissed Will's forehead. "Sleep, darling boy." Will's eyes flickered closed and Hannibal could feel Will's breathing slow until Will was once more asleep.
Hannibal rested his head back against the headboard with a deep exhale, still keeping his hold on Will as strong as he could as weakness plagued his muscles. Heat burned his lungs, his body racked with chills that he desperately tried to push aside
The medicine had lessened the pain and the fever, but not enough to let Hannibal rest comfortably. And his mind wouldn't let him rest, even if he begged it to. There was a rage inside that he couldn't seem to put out. Something against the man in his arms. Something against the man letting someone into their world.
Not that Will had done necessarily anything wrong. Quite the contrary, Will had done what needed to be done. Had found someone to help when Hannibal wasn't completely mentally there, falling in and out of sleep like a teen girl falling in and out of love.
Hannibal just couldn't seem to get past the idea that someone other than a person he had picked out saw him this way. This weak. This pathetic. This human. He hated it. Wished he could have had a say in it. He knew he didn't. He never did.
Hannibal sighed. Truly, there was no debasement greater than love. If only Alana or Frederick could see him now, they would finally see what it meant to best Hannibal Lecter. To win in Hannibal Lecter's little games. To cage the beast and hold the key.
Another kiss was placed to Will's brow and Hannibal's hands stroked through the boy's curls as the empath slept, nothing of whatever was plaguing him left on his features. Will's face was calm and peaceful as if the events of the last few minutes had never happened.
What had the voice been saying that had been so bad? How many voices were trying to keep the empath's attention? Hannibal knew that there were at least three active voices that would be clawing at him for acknowledgement. Jack had been one of them. Molly and Walter would be the others. And Will had mentioned there being two other names. Those voices didn't seem to bother Will quite as much, but if they were constant then Hannibal was certain that even Will would tire of Abigail and Beverly's presences.
"Hanni?" a small voice asked from somewhere in the room. A voice that had been calling to Hannibal for the last several hours. A voice he nearly felt guilty in hearing, one that he wasn't seeking out. A voice to a person who was trying to pull him away from Will. Not that she was doing it on purpose, not at all. The child would never wish him any sort of harm, she was just lonely. "Hanni, you're so old now."
Hannibal gave a small huff of laughter that turned into a small cough. He winced as it stirred Will, but not enough to fully wake him. He glanced down at the young blonde girl who sat at the edge of the bed, no older than Morgan, a fevered hallucination with a beautiful red ribbon in her hair. Hannibal's favorite color gleaming in the lamp light.
"You've gone grey," she pushed in Lithuanian. "Like papa."
"We haven't spoken in a long while," Hannibal agreed softly, doing his best not to wake the man in his arms. "I'm sorry, Mischa. What a horrible older brother I've been to you as of late."
"This is the man that kept taking you from me," Mischa said, her eyes shining even in the dark of the room. "He kept pulling you away from me. You were meant to come with me Hanni. I miss you."
Hannibal gave a sad sort of smile, stomach churning as shivers ran through his body. His eyes were hot and burned, wanting nothing more than to close and let sleep wash over him. He forced his eyes to stay open and his grip tightened, despite angry muscles, around Will protectively.
"I miss you too, Mischa," Hannibal assured in barely more than a whisper, fire licking through his limbs, embers hot with every forced exhale. "Do not be upset with him though. He's a good man."
"You like him, don't you Hanni?" Mischa rose onto her knees, bouncing slightly on the bed, but Hannibal couldn't find the fight in him to scold the child.
"Very much," Hannibal replied, head falling back against the headboard, neck unable to support him anymore. His ribs ached in something that was rich, hearty, and slightly crunchy. Similar to getting a hand mashed in a revolving door. Scorching.
"He's asleep. You can come with me now, if you want. We can play again. You can teach me how to play chess." Mischa gave me a small frown. "You never did teach me."
"I'm sorry I never taught you. I will someday. I promise." Hannibal licked at his dry lips and reached out for the glass of water at his bedside.
"Hanni, come with me," Mischa begged in a whiny voice, the way all children did. Hannibal took a swallow of water, but it did nothing to stop the blaze in his body. A blaze inside and a frigid wasteland outside. His body trembled with cold, his body stealing his own heat to keep the fire alive. "Please come with me! We can explore our home again. We never got to find that secret room that papa told us about. And I miss the gardens."
"I've kept you far away from there, haven't I?" Hannibal asked as he took another shaky drink of water, the other hand still tangled deeply in Will's curls. "I will visit your grave soon. Once more before I die."
"No, now," Mischa said forcefully. She hopped off the bed and raced to Hannibal's side, taking his hand. The glass of water was ripped from his hand and shattered on the floor. "Hanni, now." There was a tug on his hand and Hannibal could feel the man beside him stir.
"I can't leave Will, Mischa. Not yet," Hannibal said, his body consumed by flames now. He closed his eyes, smelling the bitter acidicness of panic in the air.
"You promised to teach me chess. You promised you would show me how to sound out big words so I could read books like you. You promised to have tea parties with me in the gardens. You promised, you promised, you promised."
He was being separated. Pulled in two different directions. A small hand on his that was dragging him through a forest that had snow clinging to empty branches of old trees. The other hand clutched tightly to his shirt, begging him to stay in bed, pleading now to leave.
Mischa's grip was far too tight on him and he found himself wandering through the trees and snow, the fever not nearly as present the further into the forest he went. And he looked back to find his body in a bed, slumped over with illness, a frantic Will pacing the room with a phone to his ear.
"I-I don't know," Will's voice called out to him as the image got further and further away. "The alarm didn't go off. Or he might have turned it off."
Had he? He couldn't recall hearing an alarm signaling his next round of medication, but he supposed it didn't matter much now anyways. Not when his home greeted him from the edge of the trees and Will's shape, warm from the lamplight, had all but faded away into the darkness of large trees.
Winter faded and Hannibal found himself in the gardens of his home. There was a vast array of colorful flowers that his mother had picked out, far too many for Hannibal to try to name them all. But they made the air sweet, something to mix with the scent of sun.
In a clearing, at a rot iron table sat Mischa in her light blue dress, the one that Mother had gotten her for Easter. And that red ribbon, the one that Hannibal had given her for her birthday one year, was tied into her blonde locks. Her smile was bright as she caught sight of her brother.
"Hanni, you're in time for tea," she said excitedly, feet swinging in the chair, unable to reach the ground. Hannibal slowly glanced around, the spring air an odd warmth against his chilled skin. The castle that he had always found gloomy, mostly due to the large amounts of rain that normally fell, was bright and fairytale like behind them. Hannibal slowly found himself moving towards the table, sitting down on his sister's right hand side. "Do you want to pour the tea, or shall I?"
Hannibal blinked, the words not coming to him to say. He wanted to say no. He wanted to go back to that wintery forest and find that curly haired man in that bedroom, the man with a name that escaped him, but Hannibal knew he was important.
Hannibal's hands moved of their own accord, reaching out to the delicate white tea set in front of him. He picked up the teapot and carefully poured Mischa a cup and then himself before he picked up the small cream pitcher.
"Hannibal," a distant voice called. Something kind and gentle. Hannibal's hands paused and he glanced around the garden, finding it buzzing with life. Death's-head hawk moths fluttered between the flowers, adding their yellow to the multitude of colors that were already there, something so beautiful in the way they fluttered about, wanting so desperately to be butterflies. But the sinister skull on their bodies would never allow them to be, never let them hide away. They would always be death's omen, never something cheerfully light. "Hannibal, you need to wake up."
"Hanni, cream and sugar please," Mischa's tiny voice instructed. Hannibal inhaled deeply, shaking his head to rid himself of the voice. He poured each of them some cream and then two cubes of sugar for the young girl and one for him.
"Dr. Lecter, you need to wake up."
Hannibal's hands paused once more at a new voice and his hand went to his head with a wince. His breath was hot and his muscles ached, but he couldn't place why.
"The tea will make you feel better," Mischa said with a small laugh. "Mom always says she feels better after a cup of hot tea."
"Wake up."
"Hanni?" Mischa asked in concern, head tipped to the side as she looked over her older, much older, brother. "Are you alright?" Hannibal gave a small nod and reached out for his teacup, the porcelain cold against his burning skin. There was a sharp pain in his arm that made him wince as he lifted the teacup to his mouth. "You can see mom and papa again, too, you know. They miss you as well. Not as much as I do, though." Mischa gave another small laugh.
"Hannibal!"
The voice stopped the teacup right before Hannibal had a chance to taste the warmth of the liquid on his lips. He looked up towards the voice and found a man wandering the gardens, nearly swallowed by the flowers and moths. Not very tall, in dress pants and a god awful dark green flannel. His hair was a halo of curls, brown with hints of red on the spring sun. Eyes...
Such .
"Hannibal," he called again.
A voice like Tallis Fantasia by Vaughan Williams. A clash of old and new. Something medieval as it kept the tune of Why Fum'th in Fight The Gentiles Spite while straddling 400 years of space and time to add in the majesties of orchestral respect from 1910.
"Hannibal, come home to me, please."
To you? Hannibal wanted to ask, but the words died on his tongue, mouth sewn shut.
"Hanni, your tea is getting cold," Mischa scolded lightly. "Drink your tea and then you can teach me to play chess like you promised."
"Dr. Lecter. You need to wake up." This voice didn't have a body to go with it, but it was firm and demanding.
Wake up?
Hannibal was more than sure that he was awake. He was at his home with Mischa, drinking tea the way that she liked to do when it was finally warm enough to go outside. Beside him, Mischa didn't pay any mind to the beautiful man in the garden who was wandering around, unseeing, nor did she show any indication that she heard the other man's voice that was instructing Hannibal to wake up.
"Hanni, please drink your tea. I made it myself." Mischa gave a small laugh as she reached out and took a sugar cube from the small cup that held them. She popped it into her mouth and her fingers played with the ribbon in her hair. "Well, mom helped."
Hannibal gave another absent nod, once more looking down at his cup and lifting it to his lips. The porcelain touched his skin, but he stopped as a moth landed on the rim opposite his face, wings outheld as if trying to become the design on the teacup. Something to cover his lips, keep him silent. The thread to his sewn lips.
"Hannibal. Please!"
The words were desperate. A clashing of violins and flutes that weren't following a conductor. Something that snatched at Hannibal's attention and he rose from the table, cup still in hand, but slowly lowering to the saucer.
"No, he can't take you back, Hanni." Hannibal looked back down at his little sister who had tears pouring down her cheeks. "Please don't leave me again," she begged, wiping at her cheeks. "Please stay with me."
"Will," Hannibal whispered, words finally coming back to him. He wasn't sure where the name came from, but it must have been correct, because the man paused in the garden and turned in Hannibal's direction, though his eyes were still unseeing. "I can't leave him."
"Why?" Mischa demanded, getting to her knees on the chair, pushing herself up with her hands on the table. "Hanni, you are supposed to come with me."
"I can't," Hannibal muttered, not pulling his eyes away from the man still searching the gardens for him.
"You can," Mischa assured. "Drink your tea and we can go to the creek. We can go swimming. You like swimming." A tiny hand forced the cup back up to his lips and he found himself unable to fight the movement until that man spoke once more.
"I love you, Hannibal. Please come back to me. I can't lose you yet. You promised to show me the world, remember?" Fingers brushed back those cinnamon curls and blue eyes were scared, words choked. "You don't break your promises, Hannibal. You have to show me the world. You have to. You fucking promised."
Hannibal halted the teacup, hands trembling against Misha's pleading force.
"Dr. Lecter."
"I promise to come back, Mischa," Hannibal whispered, slowly turning to look over the young girl who had tears staining her cheeks. The child shook her head. "I will return to you. But I can't go yet. There are still things I need to do before I come back to you."
"But he's taking you away from me," Mischa argued, once more trying to push the cup to Hannibal's mouth, but Hannibal's strength held firm. "It's not fair."
"Mischa, I thought you would be happy for me. I thought you wanted me to find someone who loved me." Hannibal gave a small sigh with a slight smile. One hand left the cup and brushed the tears from the girl's cheeks. "You said that you wanted me to be happy. Do you remember?" Mischa gave a small nod. "He makes me happy. So happy, Mischa."
"What about me?"
"He likes you too. I've told him about you, you know."
"You did?" The tears seemed to stop at that, the girl's eyes curious. "You never tell anyone about me."
"Will cares for you and he'll come with me when I come back. We'll all be together, and you will see," Hannibal assured. "Please let me go back to him. He needs me."
"I need you," Mischa whispered with a shake of her head. "What about all of the things you promised me? You made them first."
"I can't do them yet. Wait until I come back." Hannibal leaned over and placed a kiss to his sister's head. "I will teach you to play chess and how to read big words and have tea parties with you every day. I will go swimming in the creek and push you on the swing on the hill. I will. All of it is yours for the rest of eternity, but please wait a little longer for me. Can you be patient? Please? For me?"
There was a small pause, as if the world had stopped spinning, something across Mischa's features that Hannibal couldn't read. Mischa finally gave a nod and Hannibal exhaled deeply, something smothering hot.
"Thank you Mischa." He gave her head another kind kiss and he turned to look over the man in the gardens. "Will!" he called, making the man stop, chest heaving with breath. "I love you."
The teacup fell from Hannibal's grip as he rushed to through the garden, the glass shattering as it hit the gravel.
Occasionally I drop a teacup to the floor just to see it shatter; I'm disappointed when it doesn't pick itself up and come back together. Someday, perhaps.
But he wasn't disappointed. This teacup could be shattered. He could let it be shattered. Especially if it led him right back to Will, right back where he was meant to belong. Right into Will's arms that were held open and clasped around him tightly when Hannibal finally reached them.
A loud sound woke Will. Something shattering. Something glass. He jumped upright from where he was slumped against a sweating body. He glanced around in the lamp light to see Hannibal with a hand hanging off the bed, body lax and covered once more in sweat.
Will jumped to his feet and raced around to the other side of the bed to find the glass of water in pieces on the ground. Will carefully stepped around the glass and snatched his phone from the table, looking at the time.
"Shit," he hissed, a hand going to his head. "Hannibal." Will stepped forward and gasped as something sharp sliced at his foot, the glass being the very last thing in his mind. He reached out a hand and pressed it to Hannibal's head, not even needing to touch the man to feel the heat radiating off of him. "If you fucking die on me now, I will bring you back to kill you myself."
Will stepped away from the bed, looking at the time once more. It had been nearly eight hours since Hannibal's last dose of medicine, but Will didn't feel any more rested. The panic was worse now.
He pulled up Elijah's number and stared at it for a moment. It wasn't like it was late at night. It was early evening, but he would be with his family. Maybe eating dinner. Maybe playing catch in the yard with his kids. Will couldn't bother the man. Not again. Not so soon.
This wasn't a just like that anymore. He would owe Elijah everything if that man came back to help. But Will was at a loss. He didn't know what to do. With a trembling hand, Will hit the number and placed the phone to his ear.
"Hello?"
"Elijah," Will breathed out at the voice that answered him. "I-I don't know what to do."
"What happened?" the man asked, tone serious on the other side of the line.
"I-I missed a few doses of medication."
"I thought you had an alarm set. Did you sleep through them?"
"I-I don't know," Will's voice shook. "The alarm didn't go off. Or he might have turned it off." Will didn't want to think about what that implied if Hannibal really had turned it off. Did Hannibal just want to die? Should Will just let him go? Was he that desperate? No. Hannibal promised. He promised a lot of things that still hadn't happened yet. He promised to take care of Will and Walter. He promised to show Will the world. He promised to read Will to sleep every night when Will couldn't sleep. He promised to marry Will.
"Everything is going to be alright Will," Elijah assured on the phone. "I can be there in about ten minutes. What are his symptoms?"
Will glanced back over Hannibal and shook at the man's shoulder, but he didn't stir. The only thing Hannibal did was breathe with a wheezy sort of breath. Will bit his lips, a hand going to his head. "His fever is back. Chills, sweating. He's barely breathing. Uh..." Will could feel his throat restrict and tears come to his eyes. No. He was not going to cry again.
"Alright. Will, get him a dose of those four medications and get another alarm set for four hours. Try to wake him up. Get some water into him. Maybe those painkillers if he can take them. They'll help lower the fever."
"Alright," Will whispered with a small nod even if Elijah couldn't see him.
"I'm in the car now. I will be there soon."
"Thank you." Will lowered the phone and went about gathering what he had been instructed to gather, tacky footprints being left behind him with every other step. Will found himself in the kitchen, absently getting a new glass of water to take back into the room, focus deep set on a car engine that stopped outside of the house. Will waited on bated breath until there was a knock at the door and he raced to it. He flung it open to find the light haired man from earlier with that same kind look on his face saying that he only wanted to help. "Thank god," Will whispered, moving out of the way for Elijah to enter the house, bag in hand.
"Will, you're bleeding," Elijah said in concern and Will finally noticed a sharp pulse in his foot.
"I don't care." Will shook his head. "Please help Hannibal." Will, with cup in hand, made his way back to the master bedroom, Elijah following him, doing his best not to step in the man's blood that covered the hall. Will pushed into the bedroom and Elijah found the cause of the injury to Will's foot. A shattered cup lay on Hannibal's side of the bed and Elijah wondered if maybe the man had been trying to get a drink of water when his body gave out on him. "Hannibal." Will moved over, stepping through the mess of glass once more, uncaring, and helped straighten Hannibal up in bed. "Hannibal, you need to wake up."
Elijah moved to the opposite side of the bed and looked over the doctor, a hand going to the man's burning skin. "Dr. Lecter, you need to wake up," he said firmly as he dug through his own bag. "Will, please get his medication ready. I was able to pick up a few others."
"When?" Will asked, jumping into action as instructed. "How?" He tore open the first box and went about mixing the drugs in it before ripping open the package of a needle and filling it carefully.
"I thought there was a small possibility that he could relapse," Elijah explained as he got to work opening the medication he had brought with himself. "Wake up," he ordered once more, shaking at Hannibal's shoulder with no reaction from the man. "Or I thought I would come by in the morning and check on you two. Make sure everything was going alright if I didn't receive a call. With sepsis, one really should be taking more than the four antibiotics. Six to eight is more appropriate."
Will frowned as he inserted the needle into Hannibal's arm. Elijah watched as the man's brow creased with pain and dislike. Maybe he wasn't too far gone. "He didn't tell me that."
"Don't be cross with him over that. It's difficult enough to remember the names of these drugs when you aren't being eaten alive by fever." Elijah tried to make light of the situation, but it did nothing to erase the frown from Will's face. "I'm sure he would have told you." Elijah pressed his own needle into Hannibal's other arm. "Once you're done with those, try to wake him up. We need to get fluids and those painkillers in him."
Will gave a determined nod and did just as told. Once the four medications were administered, he brushed Hannibal's hair from his face, voice ragged in a plea. "Hannibal!" He took Hannibal's face in his hands and turned the man to look at him. Eyes flickered open and Will nearly choked on the man's name once more. "Hannibal." Just as quickly as they had opened, Hannibal's eyes slid shut once more and Will's eyes closed. "Hannibal, come home to me, please."
"Dr. Lecter. You need to wake up," Elijah tried once more as he got another syringe filled with another antibiotic. He reached out to Hannibal's arm and let the needle find its mark.
Will reached out to the glass of water on the bedside table and took Hannibal's chin firmly in his grip. "Hannibal, I need you to drink this. I know you can hear me." He pressed the glass to Hannibal's lips and tipped it to let the icy water brush over Hannibal's lips. He didn't drink it though. "Hannibal. Please!"
That seemed to be enough to gain the man's attention. Enough to bring consciousness to Hannibal so that he could drink the water Will was providing him. It was slow work and Will found his hand lowering down to Hannibal's neck, softly stroking there to coax Hannibal to swallow more water. When the glass was nearly empty, Will set it aside with a small breath of relief.
"Will," Hannibal whispered. Though the word was there, there was no awareness to it, something said in motor skill. A practiced name through practiced lips.
"Hannibal, I need you to wake up. Please take these pills. Please." Will dumped three of them into his hand and grabbed the glass once more, but Hannibal was gone again, the water running down his chin when Will tried to have him drink more.
"Smash up the pills, put them in the water," Elijah instructed, setting aside the last needle wrapper. Will watched him for a moment as he filled the clear tube with clear liquid to a particular line. "Will."
Elijah's tone was forceful and made Will jump from the bed and race to the kitchen. The pills were placed on the counter and Will found a spoon, using his full body weight to turn the pills to a white dust. He grabbed a new glass and scooped the powder into it, filling it with a bit of the mint tea that had been left over and was rather cold now, but if it had been good enough for Hannibal earlier, then it would be fine now. It would also help with the bitter taste that would come from the pills.
Will made his way back to the bedroom to find that Elijah had cleaned up everything and had returned to his seat on Will's side of the bed, gently dabbing a wet cloth over Hannibal's face to clean at the sweat that was there.
Will sat back on the side of the bed, the blood now cold and sticky between his toes, but he pushed the thought aside as he took Hannibal's face once more in his hand, guiding the cup to Hannibal's lips. Hannibal didn't wake though. Just continued in his shallow, wheezy breaths. Will felt something snap in his chest, something so incredibly painful.
"I love you Hannibal," he whispered, leaning over to kiss lips that let excruciatingly hot breath pass through them. "Please come back to me. I can't lose you yet." Will gave a teary smile. "You promised to show me the world, remember?" Eyes barely opened and Will ran a hand through his hair as a spark of hope went off in his heart, next words choked. "You don't break your promises, Hannibal. You have to show me the world. You have to." It was said firmly, making sure that Hannibal understood what was expected of him. "You fucking promised."
"Dr. Lecter," Elijah called, reaching out and checking the man's pulse.
"Will," Hannibal's weak voice called out once more, still just as distant as the first time, but it was enough for Will.
"Please drink this, Hannibal," Will whispered, placing the cup back to Hannibal's lips that parted without being forced. Will tipped the glass and Elijah held Hannibal's head steady. Will's fingers found Hannibal's throat, running up and down it once more, trying to sooth and persuade Hannibal enough that he could drink. "Thank you," Will gasped out when the man did just that, adam's apple bobbing with each slow swallow.
"Will, I'm staying the night with you after I look at your foot," Elijah announced. "You're going to sleep and I will make sure Hannibal gets his medicine. You'll be adding four more medications to his rounds. They'll help."
"You-Y-You don't have to stay," Will said with a shake of his head, though his eyes stayed trained firmly on Hannibal who was still obediently drinking whatever Will gave him to drink. "I don't want to make you feel like-"
"You're very kind, Will," Elijah assured, once more cleaning at Hannibal's skin. "But my family understands and I would much rather be here if something goes wrong instead of you having to call me at god's hour to come racing back over here."
With the glass now empty, Will placed it aside and leaned over, head pressed to Hannibal's shoulder. "Thank you, Hannibal. Thank you," he whispered, pressing a kiss into the man's heart through the damp t-shirt he wore. Will sat up and turned to Elijah, holding out his hand. "Can I see your phone?"
Elijah gave an odd look, but stopped his work and pulled his phone from his pocket, handing it to the Ex-FBI agent. Will took it and dug through it for a moment, before typing something on the screen and handing it back to Elijah who found a new contact saved to his phone.
"That is Hannibal's very personal number," Will explained, though he wasn't exactly sure where he was pulling the information. But it sounded right, felt true. Maybe a long forgotten memory. He seemed to still have a lot of those missing and the pain that was settling into his skull told him that it was probably just that. "He checks messages every Thursday. He won't call back. He never does, but..." Will licked his lips. "If you ever need something, anything at all, call that number."
"You're giving this to me because...?" Elijah asked softly, looking over the random digits that were there and wondering if it was the truth.
"We owe you his life." Will licked at his lips with a deep breath. "Twice now you've helped us and have wanted nothing. Anything you could possibly need, call that number. But remember that he only checks the messages once a week."
Elijah wasn't exactly sure how to answer that. He wasn't exactly sure when he would need a favor large enough to call upon the killer and his murder husband, as Tattlecrimes had called them, which wasn't a that far off description. He nodded his thanks all the same and slid his phone back into his pocket.
"Let's take a look at your foot Will."
It took a bit of time for the glass to be collected from Will's foot, but with it cleaned and bandaged, Will was told to go back to his side of the bed. Elijah dug through his bag until he found the pill bottle he wanted and let a single pill fall into the palm of his hand. With the nearly finished glass of water in hand, he held the pill out to Will, who looked at it apprehensively. Elijah couldn't help but be curious if maybe Hannibal had done something akin to drugging Will before, enough so that Will was fairly cautious with any pill that was placed before him.
"This is Triazolam," Elijah explained. "It's a sleeping pill. A good one. It will help." Will shook his head, a worried expression over his face as he looked down at Hannibal who was still wheezing. "I will be here Will. He will be fine. I won't let anything happen to him, to either of you." With small, nearly regretful movements, Will took the items and swallowed down the pill. "I will clean this up." Elijah glanced around at all the blood that still covered the floors and went out the door into the rest of the house. "You sleep."
"I can help-"
"It shouldn't take more than ten or fifteen minutes for you to be asleep," Elijah said with a gentle smile. "Please. Rest."
Will gave a small nod and rested back in the bed and Elijah watched as the man curled carefully into Hannibal's side, almost as if he didn't want to touch Hannibal, afraid the doctor might shatter.
Will listened to Hannibal's noisy breath, the drugs slowly allowing a calming haze to blanket his mind and his body and he swore he could hear Hannibal's voice as he drifted off.
"Will, I love you."