"Look who's here," Margot said, pointing past Morgan and towards the door of the dining room. Hannibal watched from where he sat beside Alana as the child's head whipped towards the door at a speed that should have snapped his neck with a smile that was so bright it would have put the sun to shame. "I bet he would teach you to play now."
"Wally!" Morgan said, pushing himself from the dining table and racing to the boy, wrapping his arms around Walter's middle.
Hannibal turned in his chair to observe as the annoyed look over Walter's face was quickly washed away into something far more kind as Walter let Morgan hug him. He petted at Morgan's head before pushing the boy away and guiding him towards the opposite end of the table. He pulled a pack of cards from his pocket and tossed them to Morgan before grabbing a plate of food that was set out.
Hannibal reached out and caught Walter's hand and the boy froze, not looking up from the plate he was fixing himself that was close to overflowing as if food were scarce and he wasn't sure when he was going to be able to eat again. How often had he gone without food? Surely Will would have seen to the boy having enough to be comfortable, especially after the conditions that Will had lived through.
"Where is your dad?" Hannibal asked.
With a surprising amount of strength, Walter ripped his hand free. "Asleep," he answered, voice low and dark. "I made him take some Excedrin."
Hannibal's head tipped to the side curiously and he blinked several times as Walter continued to load roast beef and mashed potatoes onto his plate before smothering the whole thing in an absurd amount of gravy.
"You got him to take medicine?" Hannibal asked back.
"You say that like it's hard to make people do what you want them to. I thought that was what you were supposed to be good at, Sir," Walter grumbled around a large mouthful of a dinner roll before he passed by Hannibal's chair and went to the other end of the table where Morgan had tried to shuffle the card deck and had made more of a fifty-two card mess.
Hannibal turned back to Margot who sipped on her glass of wine with wide and knowing eyes. "Sir?" she asked when she set her glass back down. Her voice was its usual softness, though it held a note to it that Hannibal couldn't quite place, though he knew he didn't like it. Not in the slightest. "That seems rather strict if you ask me."
"We discussed it. I don't mind," Hannibal said, taking his own glass to swirl it before inhaling deeply of the cedar wood notes in the wine before sipping at the Cabernet Sauvignon. Margot's brow raised and her fingernails clicked on the table as they tapped out a repeating pattern. "He is welcome to call me something else if he so desires."
"And is he aware of that?"
"I thought Alana was the one who picked at minds, not you."
"When she's working I pick up the slack," Margot shot back quickly with a smile, leaning over the table. "You're not going to get anywhere with him like that."
"I'm not sure if I want that relationship to go any further than that," Hannibal admitted, placing his wine aside, finger trailing around the rim of the glass. "We're at a comfortable enough distance."
"As a parent, I can say that the distance won't last," Margot offered lightly, giving a long look over her own son who was laughing at something that Walter had done.
"My first parenting experience left much to be desired. I will guide from a distance if I am asked to do such. I'm not wanted."
"Because you loved too much?"
"Perceptive as always, Margot." Hannibal sighed, taking another sip of his wine as he cast his own gaze down the table and to where instead of a card game being played there was a card house being built.
"He's not your sister."
Hannibal's jaw tightened at the words that Margot let into the air between them and he discarded his wine glass with a thoughtful breath. "Both of them could be snatched away just as quickly." Hannibal watched as Walter blew on the small structure that Morgan had been working on and it tumbled back to the table. "I've sunk far too much into Will. I'm not about to do the same to a child who doesn't like me. I am a poor excuse for a beloved mother."
"He's accepted you," Margot offered in a thoughtful tone that had Hannibal frowning. "He has had you in his life from the moment he learned your name. He's kept you so close I would call him obsessed." There was a loud laugh from Morgan at the end of the table that drew Margot's attention for a moment. "He knows everything about you. Learned everything he could about you, for you."
"As a survival tool," Hannibal grumbled, watching as Walter's card house tumbled back to the table when Morgan stole one of the bottom cards.
"They don't teach Lithuanian in schools, Hannibal," Margot pointed out coolly. Hannibal caught a small smile from Margot before his eyes returned to the boy who ruffled at Morgan's hair and went back to building the card house. "He's a good kid, Hannibal. He's so kind to my son. And he's smart. Incredibly smart. I think you could grow to like him if you give him the time and energy it takes."
"He won't return it."
"You can't force him to," Margot answered with a huff of air and a roll of her blue eyes that belonged to the Verger name. "Alana is forceful. She means well, but she pushes too hard. He closes up. He'll come to you if he wants to talk. He's far more open if you let him do his thing."
"Thank you for the concern."
"The truth is," Margot said with a light smile shot in Hannibal's direction as she located her wine glass. "I am not concerned in the way that you believe I am. It's just..." she trailed off and took a sip of her drink.
"Yes?" Hannibal asked curiously.
"You might be surprised how much you and him are alike. You won't wonder why he's Will's son."
Hannibal shook his head. "Morgan is exceptional," he pointed out. "Walter is-"
"I guarantee you that Walter is too, just in a very different way." Margot set aside her glass, eyes once more set on her son. "He's still afraid of water, you know." The words made Hannibal pause and he nodded. It would only be natural for the boy to be afraid of water after what he had gone through. "Refuses to take a bath and won't take a shower unless one of us is with him."
"He'll grow out of it," Hannibal muttered, unsure if there was a point that Margot was trying to make.
"You cared enough to help him."
"I was simply making things even between us."
"Don't play that card with me, Hannibal. I've seen the way you hold yourself around my son. You view him as your equal in every way." Margot's gaze was warm when she regarded Hannibal and Hannibal did his best to ignore the attention. "You owe Walter the same courtesy."
"I never saw myself in a position to be a parent ever again," Hannibal mused, hoping to direct the conversation in another direction, but finding it quite impossible. "But then again there was Abigail. I tried with her."
"How hard did you try?"
"If I'm being honest, it was more for Will than for me..." Hannibal's hand went to his mouth to cover his smile at how he was once more in the same situation and how much he hoped it didn't play out like Abigail again. He could never begin to imagine how utterly destroyed Will would be if Walter's throat was slashed in a kitchen and Walter was left to die.
"You can be better now," Margot pointed out in a gentle tone. "He is younger and has more time to grow to know you." There was a deep inhale from the woman that caught Hannibal's attention. "Even if I didn't know Abigail personally, I did come to know her through Alana's
"That is true," Hannibal admitted softly, giving a small nod, eyes once more focused on Walter whose cards had once more toppled in on themselves thanks to a pair of smaller and less coordinated hands. "I will give him that."
"Your family will only survive if you see your son as your own, Hannibal. Will will grow to resent you if you do not show Walter the same love."
Love. What had love ever done for Hannibal other than turn his life to absolute ruin? This boy would have to prove himself if he expected any of Hannibal's respect to be given to him. Love was not in the cards. This was a business transaction and Hannibal was certain that Walter saw it the exact same way.
"What is Morgan reading nowadays?" Hannibal asked, hoping that he could finally move the subject on.
"The Great Gatsby," Margot replied with a small nod. "He says he hasn't finished it, but he's been reading it for the better part of the time you've been gone. It took him less time to read the entirety of Les Miserables. I think he just likes the book."
"You are going to ruin him."
"How so?" Margot asked with a snorted laugh.
"He is going to be a hopeless romantic."
"He already is." The smile on Margot's face was brighter than Hannibal could recall ever seeing the woman produce. "He looks at Walter like Walter's the sun. It'll be a shame that Walter has to leave. Maybe they can stay in contact. Letters would make Morgan rather happy."
"You approve of them?" Hannibal asked curiously.
"I approve of them as much as Alana doesn't." Margot gave a small laugh.
"Do you know what Walter is reading? Does he read?"
Margot was silent, a furrow coming to her brows as she thought over the question. "He does read, though it's mostly things on the computer when Alana allows him to use it. I think I saw him reading Virginia state laws and some things about FBI cases."
Hannibal smirked. Walter was vindictive. There was hope for him to respect the boy after all.
"Are you going to miss your house?" Morgan asked, leaning dangerously over the table with his feet on the chair so he could add another card to the house they were building.
"No," Walter muttered, waiting for the cards to cave in on themselves, but Morgan's hands were becoming more steady much to Walter's surprise. Morgan's grin was bright as the structure shook but stayed upright. "I'm used to moving around a lot."
"Are you going to miss your school?"
Walter shrugged, adding his own card to the house. "I don't really like school. Any school would do."
"Are you going to miss your friends?"
"What is this?" Walter asked back. "Twenty questions?"
Walter bit his tongue and closed his eyes as his mind wandered over to Danny who was hidden somewhere far away for his own protection. He could remember the information being relayed to his mom over the phone. He had snatched up the other side of the line and held his breath as he listened to the conversation.
Danny was sent to a juvenile-treatment facility nearly 2,000 miles away. A place that had witnessed countless difficult conversations between troubled children, their worried parents, and clinical therapists. And the reasons that had been given had only thrown Walter for a loop and he could hear the words that Danny had told him and he hadn't put much of a thought to.
I wanted the whole world to myself, so I made a whole entire book about how to hurt people.
Maybe Walter had just been so focused on learning everything he could about Hannibal and finally being happy that he had a person who didn't make fun of him want to be his friend that he hadn't cared when Danny showed him the journal.
Danny had explained that since he was six he had been drawing weapons in this book. A knife, a bow and arrow, chemicals for poisoning, a plastic bag for suffocating. Danny had also told Walter about how he liked to suffocate his stuffed animals and would practice on them. How he had wanted to shove his model planes down Casey's throat when Casey would discipline him.
It makes me happy because I thought that someday I was going to end up doing it on somebody.
"His behavior wasn't impulsive," the man on the phone had said. "It was very thoughtful, premeditated."
Psychopath. Danny was a psychopath and his only friend. That wasn't what the man on the phone had called him. He hadn't given Danny an exact name. Danny simply had callous and unemotional traits, a cluster of characteristics and behaviors, including a lack of empathy, remorse, or guilt; shallow emotions; aggression and even cruelty; and a seeming indifference to punishment. But Walter knew exactly what that meant. He had come across the term when researching Hannibal.
"No," Walter finally decided, though he wasn't sure if it was the truth. "I make friends easily." That was a lie.
"That's cool!" Morgan bounced in his chair, rocking the table and the cards once more collapsed. Morgan giggled, hands going to his mouth. "Sorry," he muttered behind his fingers, but Walter only sighed with a shake of his head. He began scooping up the cards once more. "I don't have many friends."
"Don't worry kid," Walter said as kindly as he could. "You'll have a ton of friends and you'll forget me in no time."
"No, I won't." Morgan's hands lowered from his mouth and he smiled, all teeth. "I will remember you. I'll miss you too."
Walter frowned at the sentiment. "I will miss your mother." Walter tapped the cards against the table to straighten them out. "She's nice. I'll miss your horses too."
"They're nice horses," Morgan agreed with a firm nod. Walter smiled and reached out, ruffling up Morgan's hair once more, the act having become so natural as a way to not have to answer what the boy said. "Do you know where you're going?" There was excitement in that voice.
"I don't and I am assuming they will not tell me. But if I have to guess we will be in Europe. Hannibal likes it there."
"My moms talk a lot about sending me there one day. They have busi-busi-" Morgan gave a frustrated huff of hair that blew about his bangs. "Work friends in Germany that are important."
"Of course they do," Walter muttered with a sigh, shuffling the cards to give his hands something to do, the sound echoing out around the dining room.
"My mother wants me to go, but my mom doesn't want me to."
"Really?" Walter paused for a moment and looked over the boy who gave a small nod. "I thought it would be the other way around and Alana would want you to go."
"Applesauce will miss you."
The subject change was so swift it made Walter speechless for a small moment, curious how Morgan was able to jump from one train of thought to another so abruptly without getting whiplash.
"She likes my dad," Walter pointed out. "Well, every dog in the world loves my dad."
There was a small giggle from Morgan again and Walter felt a smile pull at his lips.
"I like him too."
"I like your mother," Walter repeated, trying desperately to move the conversation away from him. "She's pretty nice."
"Hanni is super cool though!"
"Let's trade." What a simple fix that would be. Morgan could have Hannibal and Alana. They were both cold and brutal and Walter could have Will and Margot. How much kinder they would be to Walter. The two of them together would have been lovely.
"No," Morgan answered quickly, a hand reaching out to Walter's half eaten plate.
"You like Hannibal," Walter pointed out as he pushed his plate closer for Morgan to grab the roll he had been eyeing. With it in hand, Morgan sat back on his knees and took a rather comically large bite of the roll.
"But I love my mother," he got out through a muffled mouthful. "And also, I don't think Will will leave Hannibal."
"I don't know." There was more hope to his tone than Walter meant it to hold. "He really loves me."
"Then you're lucky!" Morgan twisted the roll in his hand with a smile before taking another large bite of it. "You won't lose them."
"I miss my mom," Walter admitted under his breath, though he wasn't sure he was heard until Morgan lowered the roll to the table.
"I'm sorry," the boy said, bread crumbs spilling from his mouth. No wonder Alana wouldn't allow Morgan to eat anywhere but the dining room. The kid was a mess.
Walter gave a small smile. "Do you think you're going to have any siblings?"
"I hope so!" Morgan enthusiastically replied, roll being forgotten on the table cloth. "I would be a good big brother."
"You?" Walter snorted, setting the cards aside and taking a bite of his mashed potatoes. "You would be incredibly boring."
"I am not!" Morgan shot back with a frown.
"And what would you do with a little brother or sister? Read?"
"And teach them how to ride horses and we would speak in other languages. I will be an amazing grown up."
"Says who?" Walter shot back at the defiance from the kid. He scooped up another large mouthful of potatoes and shoved them in his mouth, listening to the boy's just as defensive reply.
"My moms."
"You need to learn how to throw a baseball, kid." Walter swallowed his bite before continuing. "You need to play video games and read comics."
"I can read comics. I have nothing against those. It's my mother who does."
"You're impossible." Walter lowered the spoon back to his plate and tipped his head to the side.
"On the contrary, I am very capable."
Walter laughed at the words, unsure if Morgan actually knew what he was saying or not, but finding that it didn't really matter, he let the subject drop. "Did you still want to learn how to play poker?"
"Yes!"
Sleep, while it normally seemed to be a sweet separation from the pounding in his head, was anything but. Nightmare after nightmare came and finally Will couldn't stand laying in that dark room alone for another moment.
He pushed himself from the bed and stood on weak and trembling legs that he was grateful were supporting him. The first few steps were difficult and made his head throb dangerously. His hand clutched his head as he stepped out into the bright hallways, the light doing far more bad than good.
With eyes squinted up and watering from the pain, Will walked himself through the large house until he could hear voices from the dining room. When he pushed open the door he found a rather lively sight, two separate conversations happening on either side of the table. The two young boys were located at the far end and Hannibal and Margot closer, Alana nowhere in sight.
With staggering steps, he made his way to the table and Hannibal was swiftly on his feet, taking Will's shoulders to help support him until his body was lowered into a chair. There was something so far away in Hannibal's touches, though Will was certain it wasn't from the man being closed off, but rather from the way his head continued to try to pull him into the pulsing darkness.
"How are you feeling, brangus berniuk?" Hannibal asked in a soft whisper, but even that was enough to cause Will's head to bash the words unforgivingly against his skull. He groaned, hand pulling at his hair in a hope that pain would distract him from the other pain, though he wasn't sure where the thought that that would help in any way exactly came from. "You should drink some more water, my love."
Will wasn't exactly sure where the glass came from, but it was frosty cold in his hand and was forced to his lips. His body worked against him and swallowed down the cold liquid when all Will wanted to do was throw the glass against the wall and let it shatter.
"Good," Hannibal whispered, pressing a kiss to Will's head.
It registered somewhere in his mind. Somewhere was a voice that said that Hannibal was simply taking care of him, but his body was screaming the opposite. It was telling him to run, to fight, to do something to this monster of a man. To end the both of them before they did something else they would come to regret.
Like getting married or running away together or having a son.
Will whimpered as the thought weighed heavily in his mind. This had all been a mistake. Loving Hannibal had always been a mistake and now he had only let the beast drag him further into the cave and he was just going to infect Walter with the same fate.
"I want you dead." The words were hissed out through his clenched teeth and made his head rattle and echo like an empty cavern. The grip in his hair tightened as the jackhammer in his head worsened. Hannibal's death wouldn't solve anything, but it would absolutely make him feel better.
"In the morning."
Will wasn't sure if the words were real or if he had just imagined them in his inescapable pain, but Hannibal's lips had moved, so maybe he really had said the words. Hannibal had promised this would be the last time. Hannibal had said that if Will waited until the morning that Hannibal wouldn't fight him anymore. If they waited until morning then all of this could be over and the world would be better off for it. Alana and Margot and their son would be better off for it. Walter would be better off for it if the both of them were dead...
Tell me. How would you do it?
With my hands.
That's what he would do. Use his hands. Maybe Hannibal would smirk in the same little way he had in his office so many years ago. Maybe Hannibal would die with that smirk while his lips turned blue and his skin went pale.
Maybe once they were buried in the ground there would be a breath of fresh air. Maybe the wars would stop and no one would be hungry. Maybe homelessness would be solved and illnesses would cease to exist. They were extensive and improbable maybes but with Hannibal's butterfly flapping wings no longer able to cause tornadoes, then maybe those maybes were possible.
"Margot," Will muttered out, turning his attention to the woman who was watching him with an expression he couldn't quite place, had never been able to place on the woman. "I need you to do something for me." Margot licked her lips and turned her body away from where it had been focused on the two children. Will watched as she traded a look with Hannibal who simply stayed silent while waiting for whatever Will was about to say. "Will you take care of Wally?"
"Take care of...?" Margot trailed off, looking back at the boys who were still happily playing, though Walter kept looking down the table at them momentarily.
"Not in present company, Will," Hannibal scolded in a soft voice.
Margot seemed to understand well enough. She got to her feet and straightened her dress, calling the attention of the children at the end of the table. "Boys," she said with a smile. "Will you two play somewhere else? The grownups need to talk."
"Whatever they have to say, they can say in front of me," Walter grumbled, though his voice was not lost to Will. He was bold and the cold stare at Hannibal told Will everything he needed to know and it only solidified his choice that much further.
"Wally, do as Margot asked," Will instructed, only receiving a shocked look from Walter. "And then I want you to sleep in my room tonight." Will could feel Hannibal's disapproving gaze over him, but he ignored it. Those eyes could drill holes into him all they wanted, that didn't change what was coming.
"Alright." The word was hesitant and slow from Walter, but he obeyed, getting to his feet and picking up his deck of cards. "Can I take my food?"
"Of course dear," Margot replied with a nod. "Just don't let Alana know when she gets home. Make sure you wash the dishes when you're done with them."
Walter picked up his plate and nodded to Morgan who happily slid from his chair and followed after Walter. Walter's steps paused when he reached their end of the table and he cast a glance over the three of them carefully as if picking apart the conversation they were bound to have before being tugged along by Morgan's hand on his shirt.
When the door had closed, Will tried to sit up in his chair, a hand taking his head to try to hold it up as his thoughts swirled. The room stayed silent, both Hannibal and Margot once more taking their respective seats. Hannibal's warm hand rested over Will's clenched fist on the tabletop and Will swiftly pulled it free, eyes squeezed shut. He let out a deep breath and forced himself to meet Margot's gaze.
"I need you to take care of Wally if something happens to us," he finally stated. Margot's brows furrowed, lips pursed, but she said nothing. Just the idea of saying words was enough to make Will's head throb excitedly and cause his stomach to gurgle and churn with the water he had drunk. "I-Fuck!" he hissed, head falling forward once more. "Hannibal, please. Help."
"Hush, my love," Hannibal instructed, once more taking Will's hand from the table and pulling it to himself. Will could feel his fingers slowly being unclenched with soft and gentle touches until Hannibal's thumb pressed into his wrist. Will's hand snatched around Hannibal's wrist, the deep scarring that was there hard against his palm, reminding him of just another one of his failures. "Better?"
The clarity that came with a finally full deep breath sent Will to tears. He rested his head on the table, trying to catch his breath as the throbbing ebbed away and left only silence. A hand gently brushed up and down his back soothingly and Will nearly choked at the idea that even though Hannibal knew what was coming, even though Hannibal was more than well aware of what awaited him if he stayed, he was still being so kind to Will.
"You're aware of Will's condition, yes?" Hannibal asked across the table, but Will couldn't bring himself to look up at the tense silence that followed from the woman. Instead he shuttered through his breathing and his free hand gripped the table cloth in his fist. "If he is not better by morning, I've agreed to a mutual... conclusion of our relationship."
"Mutual conclusion," Margot repeated and Will could feel those blue eyes staring into him. "The boy will be left alone then."
"He will need someone to care for him," Hannibal agreed.
"He has family on his mother's side, doesn't he?"
"No," Will argued. "They won't take care of him. They'll put him in some sort of foster care the moment they're able."
"And his biological father?" Margot tried again.
"I don't know who he is. Molly never said," Will once more answered before sitting himself back up. He let out a deep breath and wiped the tears from his cheeks. "Margot, I trust you and Alana."
"We have no legal claim over-"
"You've hidden him here just fine," Will pressed, meeting Margot's blank stare. "Jack could get you new identification, though I'm sure you have your own connections."
"You're just going to do that to Wally?" Margot demanded, voice tight as her gaze narrowed. "Give him hope and then rip it away from him?"
"He'll understand. He's a smart boy."
"Who's still grieving over his mother," Margot pointed out, getting to her feet and folding her arms over her chest. "Do not take another parent away from him."
"He'll be better off without us," Will said solidly. There was a small squeeze to Will's wrist and he glanced over at Hannibal.
"Perhaps Margot is-"
"Stop," Will ordered, shaking his thankfully clear head. "This is my decision and I expect to see it through to the end."
"I don't want any part of this," Margot muttered, snatching up her wine glass and finishing it off. "He is your son, Will. For once in your life, grow up and take care of something."
Will blinked and stared after Margot as the woman more or less stomped from the room. A silence filled the room and Will sighed before turning his attention to Hannibal. "I want us dead," he whispered. "That hasn't changed."
"I know," Hannibal assured with a small nod, though there was nothing in his voice to tell Will what he was feeling. Nothing about his person that he could pick up on, his person suit miraculously sewn back into place.
"I need us dead."
"I already promised, Will. There's no need to upset yourself over it."
Will growled at the words. "You're not fighting me."
"I never have."
"What the fuck is wrong with you?"
"My greatest mistake and most defining trait has and probably always will be my compassion for you and its inconvenience." Hannibal reached out with his free hand and found his wine, scenting it carefully before taking a sip of it as if this were any other normal night and his own death wasn't looming before him. "Take that as you will."
Will closed his eyes with a snort of laughter, a storm of emotions raging through him and he wanted to scream from not being able to find a specific one to focus on. Instead he tried to focus on his body and what he was feeling physically. That was far easier to categorize than his own head.
His migraine might have been locked behind a closed door but that didn't stop the way that his body ached all over it. Love bites seemed to radiate heat over every inch of his body. His thighs were sore from several positions he had been forced into hours previous. His biceps burned, his back ached and each movement hurt with the fullness that had been Hannibal.
Will groaned and opened his eyes to find a curious expression on Hannibal's face. Will pushed himself from his chair and to his feet, but he didn't dare remove his arm from Hannibal's soothing grip. Instead his other hand took the table so that he could lean over Hannibal. Hannibal met his gaze head on in silence, waiting for more to happen.
"I still love you," Will whispered, the feeling nearly drowning him as it flooded his chest.
"And I you, dear boy."
"I will always ache for you."
"And I will hunger daily for you."
Will sighed and closed his eyes, hand leaving the table to brush through Hannibal's silvering locks. "Wonder if the boys took bets on how long we'd stay married. They must know by now." Will gave a small laugh at the idea.
"Till death do us part."
Will nodded and leaned closer, placing a kiss to Hannibal's mouth. When Hannibal didn't fight him, he pressed in closer, knees finding purchase on either side of Hannibal's thighs on the chair. He didn't dare break the kiss or push it any further. It wasn't that kind of kiss. Those were lost to that morning. But this kiss left him just as breathless when he broke it.
"Take me to bed," Will instructed, resting his head on Hannibal's shoulder. "I believe you requested that I wait until morning."
"I would be rather grateful if you did."
"Are you going to try to convince me not to?"
"No, dear boy," Hannibal replied in a decided voice. Will sat up and gave Hannibal a confused look, eyes flickering between amber eyes. "I hope that everything that's around you will convince you. It will be far more persuasive than I could ever be."
"I want Walter to sleep beside me."
"I would never deny you your son, Will."
"I just want him to understand he's loved."
"He will," Hannibal assured softly. "Let's get you to bed. We'll come to a firm decision in the morning."
"Will you hate me for what I pick?"
"No," Hannibal answered with a shake of his head, fingers pushing through curls. "I could never hate you, cunning boy. But your son might."
Will frowned and shook his head. "I thought you weren't going to try to convince me otherwise."
"I'm not. I'm just asking that you consider what will happen to your son is all." Hannibal circled his free arm around Will's waist and shifted to the edge of the chair. "I'm going to release your wrist, alright?" he asked softly and Will gave a small nod, resting his head on Hannibal's shoulder. Hannibal let his hold on Will's pressure point go and there was an immediate moan of pain and Will hid his face deep in Hannibal's neck. Hannibal wrapped his free arm around Will as well and lifted Will up, holding Will tightly to him as he left the dining room to head back to their bedroom.
"You're always stronger than I think you are," Will muttered, breath hot against Hannibal's neck, arms and legs tight around Hannibal to help hold up his own weight. "I'll miss your strength."
He would. There was something breathtaking in the way that the man always seemed to have the motivation and the power to do everything he had done. Will could only compare it to something super human. A strength that had been focused and trained for years upon years, made from something deadly for something deadly, but now was being used gently to care for someone.
Will was lowered back into his bed, but he couldn't bring himself to release Hannibal when Hannibal tried to straighten himself back up. Hannibal's hands found the mattress for balance and Will's lips pressed to his, something needy in the kiss. Will tugged on Hannibal until Hannibal was over the top of Will, knees on either side of his hips and elbows beside Will's head in support.
"Are you feeling deprived tonight, Will?" Hannibal asked carefully between kisses.
"Just trying to remember," Will answered, not allowing Hannibal to pull away. His arms linked around Hannibal's neck to hold the killer there above him. "Remember everything. Every last horrible thing we've done to each other, every scar we've given to each other physically and emotionally. I just want to remember."
Will kissed Hannibal again and one of his hands slipped down Hannibal's shoulder and to his wrist, slipping under the cuff of his shirt so his index and middle fingers could trace the marks left in Hannibal's skin from Matthew Brown.
Hannibal's fingers pushed through Will's curls before they settled at Will's forehead, tracing his own markings made in Will's skin as they continued to kiss. Soft and slow. Nothing sensual was in any of their touches, it was just as Will had said. This was meant to be remembered. Etched into their skin like their scars.
A knock at the door broke up their shared touches and Will shook his head as Hannibal tried to pull from his grip. Hannibal gave Will a small smile in assurance before finally hauling himself from the boy and off the bed to the door. He pulled it open to find Morgan there instead of Walter like he had suspected.
"Hanni, Wally hurt himself. He said you could help," Morgan announced, though there was nothing hurried in the tone. He simply rocked on his feet, waiting for Hannibal to react.
"Where is he, Morgan?" Hannibal asked kindly.
"My room."
"Show me, Morgan," Hannibal instructed, motioning Morgan from the room. He glanced back at Will over his shoulder with a smile and Will nodded Hannibal's excuse from where he lay in bed. Hannibal closed the door behind him and followed Morgan through the hallways and finally to Morgan's room. Morgan opened the door and Hannibal stepped in to find Walter on the edge of the bed, his shirt wrapped around his hand that was bleeding enough to make the t-shirt a deep crimson color. "Walter," Hannibal said, making his way over to the bed. The boy's light eyes flickered up and then back down to his hand without a word. "Morgan, can you find me a first aid kit?"
"I think there's one in the bathroom," Morgan said, turning towards the door and skipping from the room.
Hannibal waited for a moment before turning back to Walter and making his way to the bed. He sat down beside Walter and the boy didn't shift away from him, but didn't make any acknowledgement of Hannibal's person. Hannibal unbuttoned his sleeves and rolled them up before he held out his hand, palm up and waited. It took a moment for two more of silence before Walter slowly held out his hand and placed it in Hannibal's.
Hannibal carefully removed the fabric around his hand to look over the decent sized slice in the side of his index finger that was still bleeding freely. Hannibal covered it up once more with the shirt and held it tightly in between his hands, causing Walter to gasp in pain and attempt to pull free unsuccessfully.
"What did you do, Walter?"
"It's Wally, and I didn't do anything," Walter shot back, though his voice was soft and his eyes still avoided Hannibal's gaze. "Morgan took the knife and I was trying to make sure he didn't hurt himself and he got me."
"Knife?" Hannibal asked back, glancing around the room for any hint of the weapon and coming up empty. Walter's free hand reached under one of his legs and pulled out a decent sized folding hunting knife and passed it over to Hannibal who took it. "Where did you get this?"
"It's my dad's," Walter explained, voice still quiet. Hannibal watched as Walter's eyes went to the door when Morgan entered it, rushing to the bed with a white plastic kit.
"Here you go, Hanni," Morgan said, setting the kit in Hannibal's lap before jumping up onto the bed and bouncing. "I'm sorry I hurt you, Wally."
"Morgan, can you do something else for me?" Hannibal asked sweetly, causing the boy to stop jumping on the bed. Walter's face turned from one twisted with pain to something a little softer. "Can you go get Walter a glass of water, please?"
"Yeah," Morgan answered quickly, jumping from the bed and stumbling to his knees before scrambling to his feet and racing from the room.
Hannibal set the kit aside and held up the knife for Walter to look over, brows raised in question. Walter rolled his eyes with a sigh. "Tu vis dar ne mano tėvas," he grumbled. Hannibal didn't dare answer the sentiment. He stayed silent, unmoving and waiting for the boy's explanation and it didn't take much longer before the boy gave an irritated sigh once more and spoke. "I heard you speaking in the dining room. When you kicked us out I wasn't about to let my dad do something he would regret. I snuck into his things and stole it. I don't know where his gun was, but with what Morgan did with the knife, it's probably better I couldn't find it."
"You care a lot about Will," Hannibal pointed out, finally letting Walter's hand go to open up the kit beside him. He pulled out some alcohol wipes and opened one up before taking Walter's hand once more in his.
"He's the only one that my mom's dated who's cared enough to put time into me," Walter muttered, hissing in a breath as the shirt was pulled from his hand. "Shit."
"You would do well to refrain from such language around me, son," Hannibal said sharply before he realized exactly what had come from his mouth. His movements paused and he stared at the crimson that was still flooding from Walter's finger.
"I'm not your son," Walter answered back just as hotly. "Just because you tried to save my mom doesn't mean that you're suddenly some good guy. And just because you married my dad doesn't mean that you're my dad or whatever. Sir is as close as I want to get to you."
"God forbid that we become friendly."
"I don't find you that interesting."
Those words of the past brought a small smile to his lips and he cleaned at Walter's wound with the alcohol wipe. There was a whimper from the boy and he bit his lips between his teeth, but didn't say a word.
"You will," Hannibal assured in the same way he had all those years ago to the boy's father. Even if the child knew all of his crimes inside and out, and only the ones that had been reported and he had admitted to, there was so much more to Hannibal than Walter could possibly imagine. It would take time, but Hannibal was certain that, if given the chance, the two of them could become close, even if it wasn't exactly what he was looking for. "I don't think you need stitches, so that's good."
"It fucking burns!" Walter whined, eyes shutting tightly.
"I will be discussing your disobedience with your dad. I do not approve of such language, Walter." Hannibal wiped down as much of Walter's hand as he could before reaching out to the kit to find a piece of gauze. "I will not put up with it."
"Won't matter if you're dead," Walter grumbled, wincing as Hannibal pressed the gauze to his cut probably a bit harder than what was necessary and held it there while he located some medical tape. "Is that what's going to happen? I'm going to wake up tomorrow and both of you will be dead and I'll be shoved into the foster care system because my family doesn't want me and I'll be left here wondering what was so wrong with me that my parents didn't want me. That everyone who was ever a parent to me left me with no safety net and that they didn't care."
Hannibal was quiet as he worked, slowly taping up the gauze around the cut. He cleaned the rest of Walter's hand of blood and glanced at the door when it finally opened and Morgan stepped back inside with a cup of water. He brought it over to the bed and Walter took the glass.
"Thanks," Walter muttered with a light smile. "And I know you didn't mean to hurt me. I'm ok."
"Can I see?" Morgan asked back curiously and Walter held out his bandaged finger for Morgan who tipped his head curiously. "You didn't have to sew it? It was bleeding a lot."
"It wasn't deep enough, but it might scar," Hannibal answered softly, handing out some medicine to Walter who looked at the pills suspiciously until Hannibal showed him the packaging that it had come from. Walter took the medicine and swallowed it down with the water. "Walter, your dad would like to see you."
"But I'm not done looking," Morgan said, reaching out and taking Walter's hand.
Walter winced. "You need to go to sleep."
"But you're leaving in the morning," Morgan argued with a pout, though his attention was quickly pulled back in the other direction. "Hanni, how long did it take you to become a doctor?"
"A little over a decade," Hannibal replied kindly.
Morgan looked up in confusion, though he didn't drop Walter's hand. "What's a decade?"
"Ten years," Walter supplied, gently pulling his hand from Morgan's to hold it to his bare chest in protection.
"That's a long time," Morgan muttered with a small sigh. "Is that how long it took for my mother to be a doctor too?"
"Yes." Hannibal gave Morgan a small smile. "Morgan, can you put this away for us?" Hannibal held out the closed first aid kit and Morgan snatched it up with a smile and a nod, hurrying from the room. Hannibal's gaze fell to the boy beside him and he let out a deep breath. "You're very perceptive, Walter."
"It's Wally, and my dad taught me what to look for to stay safe. Especially after that man attacked us."
"I see."
Walter inhaled deeply and got to his feet. "Thanks for helping me," he grumbled, though the words were sincere. "I suppose I better say goodbye to my dad, shouldn't I?"
"Walter," Hannibal said carefully. The boy didn't turn to face him, but didn't snap back the correction of his name. "If something does happen to your dad and me, you will be taken care of."
"Liar."
"My lawyer has my will. You will obtain my entire fortune, Walter. Everything will be left to you."
There was a stunned silence from the boy and Hannibal let it sit. There was nothing else that Hannibal could offer the boy for comfort for what was bound to be coming.
"I don't want your money, Sir. No offense, but no amount of money will replace what you've taken from me and what I am about to lose."
With that, Walter left the room and Hannibal gathered up the knife and shirt and followed the boy out of the door. He found Morgan in the hall who attempted to talk to Walter, but Walter simply ruffled the kid's hair and kept walking, ignoring the boy any further. Hannibal frowned and stopped beside Morgan.
"Is Wally ok? He's been sad since Will got sick," Morgan muttered, watching after Walter's retreating form with a concerned expression.
"He's just worried about Will," Hannibal explained in a soft voice. He lowered himself to his knees and took Morgan's shoulder. "You need to go to bed now Morgan. We need some time alone as a family. Do you understand?"
"Yes," Morgan replied slowly, looking once more down the hall and to where Walter had disappeared around a corner. "Is he going to be ok?"
"You care a lot about Walter."
A bright smile came to Morgan's face and he nodded. "He's my best friend."
Hannibal returned the smile. "I'm glad you found a friend." Hannibal reached out a hand and he patted Morgan's shoulder kindly. "Go to bed Morgan."
Morgan gave a nod and obeyed, pulling from Hannibal's grip. "Good night Hanni."
"Good night Morgan."
Hannibal pulled himself from the floor and took in a deep breath, trying to ready himself for whatever the night held. He found his way back to Will's room and when he stepped inside he found Will fast asleep in the bed with Walter sitting on the other side of the bed, a book in his uninjured hand. Hannibal looked over Will a little closer and found Will's hand clutching tightly to Walter's injured hand. Walter's face was twisted into something painful, his jaw tight, but he didn't say a word. He didn't even so much as look up when Hannibal took a chair from the desk and pulled it up to the bedside to sit in it.
"What are you reading?" Hannibal asked softly.
"A book." The answer was dull and disagreeable. Hannibal crossed his legs and sat back in his chair with his hands folded in his lap. Walter's gaze flickered up for a moment before it turned back to his book. "Don't look at me like that."
"Like what?" Hannibal asked as innocently as he could, simply observing the boy for any reaction that came from him. Anything that would let Hannibal in closer, let him see exactly made this boy tick.
"Like you're trying to pick my brain apart," Walter answered coldly, though he didn't look up from the book. Instead he turned the page. "I've had enough from doctors after that man and Alana trying to claw into my mind. I don't need you doing it too."
"I am simply trying to get to know you, Walter."
There was an irritated groan and Walter closed his eyes. "Please stop calling me that. It's so stuck up. Wally or Walt is fine."
"I would prefer we use the name your mother gave you."
Hannibal could only watch as a small glare was shot at him before the attention was turned back to the book in the boy's hand. "Well, she never called me that unless I was in trouble."
"How often were you in trouble?"
"Far more just in the time I've spoken to you than I have been in my whole life up to this point."
"That's a little extreme, isn't it?" Hannibal asked, head tipping to the side as a small silence filled the room between them, only broken up by Will's gentle snores. Hannibal watched as Walter's eyes flickered over the page in his book and was curious if maybe the boy had blocked him out for whatever world he was exploring.
"Is it?" Walter finally answered with a breath as if the question had just registered for him. "I hadn't noticed."
"What are you reading?"
"Words that you are interrupting." Walter gave a meaningless shrug and Hannibal nodded. The message was clear. Walter didn't want a thing to do with him and that was fine. It wasn't like the child meant much to him. He was simply making the effort for Will's sake in case the man decided to let them live in the morning.
His promise would always stand. Walter would want for nothing. His will was clear in its instructions and even with Walter in hiding, the lawyer would make sure it was handled with the utmost care. Walter would receive the best schooling made possible and could spend whatever he wanted and would still live comfortably until the end of his days. All of Hannibal's homes and assets would be given to Walter as well to do with what the child wanted. If he wanted to sell everything off, he could. If he was smart he would keep a hold of the real estate and let the values of them continue to rise. Of course, those decisions would be saved until the boy was old enough to accurately make them just as Hannibal's money was kept from himself until he was twenty one.
There was a whimper from Will and Hannibal's other foot lowered to the floor, but before he could do anything, Walter had the book set aside and his hand was brushing through Will's curls. Walter shushed the man until Will settled back into sleep and Walter gave a hint of a smile before returning to his book, the thumb of his trapped hand caressing over the back of Will's hand.
"Before you ask, I've seen my mother do that to calm him. He had nightmares all the time," Walter mumbled out, turning the page of the book and settling back into the story that it held. "Sometimes they were violent. I remember him falling asleep on the couch during a baseball game and he threw the remote through the TV."
"That must have been frightening," Hannibal pushed in a quiet voice, noting the way that Margot had been right. Walter would open up if he was the person to speak first. Hannibal couldn't push him. There was no chance in a million years that Hannibal could wring the information from the boy, but a little gentle coaxing would be enough.
Walter gave a small shrug and shook his head. "I've seen other men my mom's dated hit her, punch walls and throw chairs through windows. Will didn't do it to be mean. He was just scared."
"And why don't you like to be called Walter? It has more to it than the name just being stuffy." Hannibal crossed his legs once more, hands again folded in his lap as he looked over the boy who was still reading. Walter frowned and Hannibal figured he had pushed too hard, but Walter surprised him by speaking.
"The men my mom dated would call me that before touching me."
"Touching you?" Hannibal frowned at the words, hands going tight in the fabric of his slacks. "What do you mean, touching you?"
Walter frowned and his eyes unfocused from his book, blinking until he looked up. "You don't have to ask, do you? You know how."
"Did your mother know?" Hannibal asked back carefully, something tightening his jaw at the idea of what Walter could have possibly gone through and how, even if Walter didn't accept him, if they lived past the morning, he wasn't going to let anything of the sort happen to the boy again.
Walter snorted out a pained sort of laugh and nodded. "Yeah. She knew." The words dripped sarcasm. "Why the hell would I tell her? She was always so much happier when she was dating until she wasn't. I couldn't break up her happiness."
Hannibal gave a small nod and a deep exhale through his nose as pieces of why Will and Walter were so incredibly close came into focus. "And how often did you go hungry?"
"I..." Walter paused and wrinkled his freckled nose in dislike. "How did you know?"
"The way you eat tells me that you're afraid you won't get a next meal. You take far more than you could possibly finish just in case there isn't more," Hannibal supplied, thinking back over the way that Walter had piled his plate with food earlier.
"Alana said the same thing," Walter whispered. He stared down at his book, though he had fully stopped reading now. "My mom went hungry far more than I did, but there were nights where I didn't get food. Nights where we would have toast for dinner. Just bread and butter. Other nights we would share a packet of ramen. Rice was another thing we ate a lot of. I don't know if I ever want to see rice again."
"When did that change?"
"Will changed that." Walter swallowed loudly and looked over at his dad who was still asleep, hands still clasped together. The look in Walter's eyes was fond and loving. "He was so good to us. Even when he was distant and went back to work for Jack, he would check up on me. Text me every day until it just stopped. Until we thought he was dead."
Hannibal was quiet for a moment, thinking over the moment that they had fallen over the cliff. They might as well have been dead. That was how they were supposed to be until Will dragged them both to the cliffy shore and saved the both of them until Hannibal had the strength to take them the rest of the way to safety.
He hadn't thought about the effect it would have on the world outside of them and the FBI. It didn't matter what the rest of the world thought or saw. All that mattered was making sure they were safe and alive. And he hadn't truly cared about Will's family, despite how much he tried to respect that Will was still married. But now that Walter was family, it shed a new light over what the boy had been going through.
Walter was left to wonder what had happened to Will. Will was injured or dead and it was all because Hannibal the Cannibal had finally caught up to the Special Agent. The last thing known about Will was him disappearing when the police escort was attacked. That seemed so long ago that their little plan had worked. It had always been the plan, ever since Will had come to ask for his help. Ever since Will had said please that had been their plan. It didn't need to be spoken aloud. They both knew exactly what was going to play out and play out it did. It had always been fate's design that the two of them run away together. From that first meeting in Jack's office, they were doomed to the outcome. And Walter Graham had been strung along in it, stuck right in the middle.
"And when you found out he was alive?"
Walter sighed and licked at his lips, turning them a bright and slick red. "I don't really know how I felt. I remember my mom broke down in the living room. She was so relieved. I guess I was too. But he was different when he came home. He was still kind. He never did or said anything that was cross, but he was changed."
"You blame me for that," Hannibal pointed out, shifting in his chair a little before his attention went back to a quiet Walter whose mouth was twisted into something between anger and frustration.
"I blame you for a lot of things," the boy finally settled on. He let out a sigh and turned his attention back to his book, eyes scanning over the page. "And you deserve each one of them."
"Are you looking for retribution?"
Silence once more came from Walter as he read. He turned another page and bit on his lip before slowly and thoughtfully shaking his head. "Everything comes back around. You'll get what's coming for you eventually. Karma's a bitch."
Hannibal gave a small nod. "It might be, but that does not change the fact that I have asked you to stop using such language. It would be wise for you to clean up your vocabulary." A dark glare was shot at Hannibal, something so sharp it could have sliced through diamond. "A boy with your level of intelligence should be able to come up with something far more creative and clever to say."
"I'm sure I could," Walter responded without missing a beat. "But it wouldn't piss you off quite like swearing does, would it?" Hannibal shook his head in reply and Walter nodded. "Then I will continue to swear as I fucking see fit."
"It wouldn't upset me," Hannibal agreed. "But it would be far more impressive."
"You're one of those people who think that swearing makes a person smaller, less intelligent. I would argue to think that swearing just shows a better understanding of vocabulary and an extensive knowledge of knowing exactly when and how to use such words to obtain the greatest effect when they are said." Walter shrugged and once more turned the page to his book. "And if I wake up fatherless tomorrow, I need to upset you as much as is possible tonight. I might not have another chance."
"It is rather impressive that you're able to read and hold a conversation with me," Hannibal said, calling Walter's eyes to him at the change in subject, but those golden eyes once more fell to the pages where the boy was probably safer than in the bedroom with two killers. "Are you able to retain what you're reading?"
"It's a children's book. It's not difficult to read and talk to you," Walter shot back.
"What book is it?"
Walter closed his eyes with an exasperated breath out. "It's The Great Gatsby. Fuck. Do you really need to know?"
"Morgan was reading that. Did you take it from him?"
"He wouldn't shut up about it so I said I'd read it to get him to leave me alone."
"You didn't have to read it," Hannibal pointed out, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips at how kind the boy was to Morgan. How much Walter tried to come off as something stronger than what he was. Walter would go down swinging in the end. He had been fighting his whole life and Hannibal didn't see that fight burning out any time soon. It was kept alight with secrets and pain and the want to be more than those things. "And that is not a children's book. That book is meant to be read by someone in their last year of high school and if I recall your age, you have barely reached middle school."
Walter didn't answer, didn't acknowledge the information that Hannibal provided to him. He simply continued on in the book until Will made another sound of distress in his sleep. Hannibal didn't react this time. He let the boy help Will, watching the care Walter took with the man. There was a real trust there. A real love that had developed between them. Someplace safe that had been created to house Walter away from the world that had been so cruel to him. A world that had shoved him into situations that not even adults had to face.
"What do you think of Daisy?"
That seemed to catch Walter's attention a bit more. He inhaled sharply as if being woken from a dream and met Hannibal's gaze. "The author is heavy handed in trying to make her appear pure. She's associated with white. White clothing, white roses, white cars." Walter's face had changed to something of dislike while he continued to pet his father's curls. "But she's shallow and is in love with the money. Nothing else."
"Interesting. And how far are you in the story?"
"Daisy and Gatsby danced. I remember being surprised by his graceful, conservative fox-trot—I had never seen him dance before," Walter quoted without looking back at the book that had been set aside so he could attend to Will who was once more sleeping peacefully.
"Your memory is impressive."
"It needs to be if I want to pass school. That's all school is, isn't it? Just regurgitating information they shove down your throat?"
Hannibal gave a nod in answer, interest pulling at him at the way that Walter didn't accept any compliments. They were all turned to something practical. Excused and frittered away as if they held no value to him whatsoever. Was he always like this or was it simply because it was Hannibal who had offered the compliments?
"Walter, your dad and I will need to have a private conversation in the morning before we depart."
"Interesting choice of words, Sir," Walter grumbled.
"How so?" Hannibal asked back, though he knew exactly what he had meant with those specific words.
"You were telling the truth when you said earlier today that you weren't going to lie to me." Walter sighed and pulled his hand back from Will's hair. "You didn't correct me when I said that you two were going to die. Are you two going to die tomorrow?"
"I cannot give you an answer to that, Walter," Hannibal replied carefully.
The child was no fool. Will had taught him well, so well that if Hannibal didn't know any better he would assume that Walter was his biological child. They were so incredibly close in personality it was off putting. Did Walter do it to keep Will close or was this really how Walter was as a person?
"I swear that if you touch my dad with any intent to hurt him, I will kill you myself."
Hannibal blinked at the words in interest, unable to stop the amused smile over his lips. "And tell me, Walter. How do you plan to do that?"
"With my hands."
brangus berniuk: dear boy
Tu vis dar nesi mano tėvas: You are still not my father