"Pompous asshole!" Walter hissed through his teeth as he slammed the back door of the house shut behind him. "Fucking bastard." Walter hopped off the back deck and wandered away from the house and towards the forest that created their backyard, the space ever expansive.

Walter had found that getting lost in the trees when upset was the best way to handle any situation that included Hannibal Lecter. Tonight was no different, though usually his need to escape came right after school had concluded. Dinner tonight had been different.

Walter knew he had been in trouble from the moment that there was a shattering sound that echoed continuously through the large house. It made him flinch and wince and his chest constricted painfully as the shattering just seemed to continue for millennia, like the goblin body and armor falling into the well after Pippin accidentally pushed it in.

Not only had he broken the very clear rule of not playing sports in the house by kicking his soccer ball around, he had also kicked the ball into Hannibal's study, though why the study door had been left open was Walter's guess. Walter didn't even need to go inspect the damage to know exactly what had been smashed to pieces.

Hannibal had acquired an extremely old and nearly priceless tea set that was worse for wear and he had been repairing it using Kintsugi. He had been at it for days, slaving over the work when he wasn't teaching or out of the house. And Walter had ruined it.

Walter's brows knitted together painfully as he rounded the doorway of the study and found his ball off in the corner and the tea set in smithereens. There wasn't even a single tea cup left in one piece. The tea pot was tea shot to hell and indiscernible from a saucer, the creamer jug or the sugar pitcher.

Walter stared at the mess for a long moment, unsure at all what to do to fix it, knowing full and well as he sunk further into anxiety that there was absolutely nothing he could do but either tell Hannibal or let Hannibal find out. Which was worse, Walter wasn't sure. He had gone with both approaches on other occasions and neither turned out better than the other.

Hannibal was a firm believer in a mutated form of retributive justice. There was always a lesson to be learned in the punishment rather than just the punishment being given to cause Walter to suffer, but tonight sure as hell hadn't felt like that.

"Walter," Hannibal had said as they sat to eat, though Walter hadn't dared to touch anything in front of him because his body was already eating itself up enough. "Is there something that you wish to discuss with me?"

Will had stopped eating and closed his eyes, rubbing at them tiredly and Walter had never felt like more of a burden before than he had right in that moment. He had let down his dad... again. Despite his promises to do better, it never got any better. Every step he thought he made in the right direction was only twelve backwards.

"I broke your tea set," Walter blurted out, knowing it was better to say it outright than to make Hannibal string it from him. Morgan had stopped as well now, looking up with wide and curious eyes.

"Wally," Will whispered with a shake of his head. "How?"

"I was kicking the ball in the house." Walter slumped in his seat, looking at his hands in his lap.

"I see," Hannibal said, steepling his fingers at his chin as he looked over the oldest of the two boys.

"I'm sorry!" Walter's words were swift. "I didn't mean it. It was an accident."

"You're not allowed to play with the ball in the house, Wally," Will reminded lightly. "You know this."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"Thank you for your apology, Walter," Hannibal said in that damned calm voice that never rose to a yell. "I accept it, but that does not change the fact that you broke a house rule."

"I'm sure that Wally-"

"Don't interrupt Morgan," Will instructed gently. "This is not your place to speak."

The young boy gave a small nod and returned to his food, picking at the rice with his spoon for a moment before eating a mouthful. Walter's stomach churned at the sight and he pulled his eyes away, figuring that the best place for them would be to stay in his lap. He didn't dare look up at his parents. He couldn't stand facing that disappointment yet again.

"Will, you can correct me if I am wrong, but I believe that we had come to the agreement that if Walter played with the ball in the house again that he would be ineligible for sports this season," Hannibal stated in a calm and clear tone before he took a sip of his nightly wine.

Walter's heart twisted and contorted into odd shapes, choking his breath from his lungs. "Please, no!" he begged.

"Wally, you know that that was the next step if you disobeyed again," Will pointed out, though his voice held a small bit of regret. He wouldn't go against the punishment though. He never did. At least not in front of Hannibal. Will would go behind Hannibal's back if the punishment allowed, but there was no way that Will could fix this mess. "No soccer this season."

"But Dad!" Walter pleaded, sitting up further in his chair, finally meeting blue eyes that looked more sad than disappointed. "You know that that's the only thing-"

"That doesn't matter, Wally," Will pushed with a deep breath. "You knew the consequences of your actions before you decided to play in the house."

"That's all I have!" Walter argued, getting to his feet, voice louder than what was seen as respectful around the table. In his peripherals, Walter could make out Hannibal's brows rising at the disturbance, but Walter couldn't stop. "Soccer is the only thing that's mine!" By now Morgan had stopped eating once more and was watching in shock. "You can't take that away from me!"

"Wally," Will scolded, setting his fork aside, brows furrowing. "This is not up for negotiation."

"My mom wouldn't have done this to me!" Walter yelled, pushing back on his chair so hard that the thick wood tipped and landed against the stone floor with a loud thwack that caused Morgan to jump. "And you know it!"

"Walter, in this household we-"

"You're not my mom, Hannibal!" Walter finally turned himself to face those dark red eyes set deeply in a calm face that Walter wished to see some expression on for once in his life. "Stop pretending to be my dad because you're not!"

"We can discuss this like adults or you may be excused, but the punishment stands, Walter," Hannibal said in his ever even tone that made Walter's blood boil. The cruel power that Walter knew was there was stuffed beneath a surface of cool glass, shoved away, though dangerous all the same. The robot. "What will it be, Walter?"

"Fuck off," Walter hissed before he could filter himself and he strode from the table, hands fists at his sides. He could just barely make out Hannibal explaining the whole point of the punishment as he left the room.

"By following through with consequences, he knows which behavior is acceptable. You're teaching him the natural and logical consequences of his behavior. If you don't enforce consequences, he learns that his behaviors have no limits, assuming the world bends to his whims."

"Bends to my whims?" Walter laughed as he marched through the tall grass that gave way to trees and pine needles. "When has the world ever bent to my whims?"

Walter sighed and kicked angrily at the trunk of a tree. The pain radiating up his foot seemed to help the fire burn more while also dousing it and Walter wasn't exactly sure how it was possible to feel more worked up while calmed at the same time, but he didn't honestly care.

He kicked the tree again. And again. And again. Until his foot was red hot and pulsing inside of his shoe. Until he limped when he walked on and into the quickly darkening night. Each step echoed with a dullness that forced Walter to inhale deeply to make sure that he didn't whimper.

It wasn't long before the sun had set, but Walter didn't need the sun to know where he was going. He hid out here so often that he knew where he was to a certain extent. There was a lake somewhere off to the left that Will would take him fishing at. There was a decent sized creek that Morgan called a raging river that went to the lake and then there was a cliff side that Walter enjoyed.

He liked to look down the hill to the pit below that only had a straight rock wall on the other side. He had always been curious about what was down at the bottom of it. He could see a tipped over, rusted old car and that always sparked his curiosity how it had gotten there. The hood was all chomped in so maybe it had once belonged to McCoppin Scrapyard and the Iron Giant had thrown it when the horn began to go off and woke up Dean. That was Walter's favorite explanation for it and the thought alone brought a small smile to his face.

Other than the car, Walter had seen glints of other metal things, maybe some glass items, but everything was far too far away for Walter to be able to actually make out. There was a large pipe that Walter thought maybe he could have used to walk down and into the pit, but it didn't quite reach any access point.

Walter's eyes wandered the oblong pit and stopped on something that he had never noticed before. A bicycle was in a tree. But not just in a tree. It nearly looked like some weird modern art with the way the tree had grown around the bike, only the back and front tires and handle bars showing, the rest swallowed up by the trunk.

Walter stepped up along the side of the pit to get a closer look in the last rays from the sun. The tree was tall. The bike must have been there for a long time because it was nearly half way up the tree. How had the bike gotten into the pit? How had it landed perfectly against the tree to be stuck like that? It was odd to be sure, but Walter only tipped his head to the side curiously.

The next step forward didn't seem to connect to the ground. With a rumbling to life sound, the ground fell out from beneath Walter's foot and his stomach rose into his throat as he fell. A pain shot through his thigh at the hyperextension in it and wind rushed in his ears, his heart thudding loudly until his body was snatched up by something sharp and hard.

Walter couldn't stop the cry that left his lips at a sickening snap. Tears lined his eyes and fell hot and angry down his cheeks as a pure, intense, brilliant pain radiated up his leg. He almost didn't notice the way his shirt was soaking with blood or the way that his upper body was caught between a tree branch and an odd formation of bricks. He was far more focused at where his ankle was caught awkwardly in another tree branch just high enough above his body that Walter knew there was no way to leverage himself out of his entrapment.

He sobbed as he tried anyway, using his elbow to try to push up against the bricks to move himself, but it did nothing. He couldn't unstick his arm from the tree and there was absolutely no way to unhook his leg. He didn't even dare try to move it now that his shin was beginning to swell and grow hot. His other leg that hung beneath him tried to search for any sort of purchase, but he couldn't find anything within reaching distance.

All he could do was wait. Just let his leg pulse and his blood go sticky and cold from whatever had scraped up his ribs in the fall. But who was he waiting for? He was supposed to go to his room. Hannibal hadn't been explicit in his instructions, but Walter had been punished enough to know that that was what Hannibal had meant. He was safe and angry in his bed.

No one would know he was out there. No one would know that he was in this pit. He had never told anyone about the pit before. He had thought that if he told anyone that Morgan would follow him to it. It was someplace that was strictly his and no one else's. Would it stay his forever now?

With a deep inhale that only sent more pain through his body, Walter called out as loudly as he could, so far away from the house that one could no longer see it.

"Help!" A sob left his throat and his head fell onto his shoulder as tears continued to run down his cheeks. "Damn it. Help me please. Someone! Help!"

"What are you still doing here?" Hannibal asked when he returned from the bathroom to find Will in the same spot he had left the boy. In bed with a book in hand. Will gave a one shoulder shrug in answer as he turned the page.

"Where else would I be?"

Hannibal's brows furrowed and he rubbed the towel through his hair to dry it. "Normally you would be sneaking Walter some food because he didn't get any dinner."

Will's eyes flickered up from the book and he exhaled, setting the book aside. He sat up from his slouch against the headboard with a small nod. "How long have you known?"

Hannibal set the towel aside and reached out for his sleep pants, tugging them on. "You often smell like whatever you heated up for him when you return to our room. You don't smell like Tafelspitz, which is what you would have given him because he doesn't care for Paella Valenciana."

Will gave a slight half smile before he wiped it away by rubbing at the scruff across his chin. "Were we too hard on him? He's right. Sports are the only thing that we let him have, that's his."

"Do you feel we were too hard on him?" Hannibal questioned in place of an answer, coming to sit on the edge of the bed. "We both discussed-"

"I know we discussed it, but I just-" Will groaned and rolled his eyes, getting to his knees so he could shift to be by Hannibal, wrapping his arms over Hannibal's shoulders and pressing his chest to Hannibal's bare back. Will kissed softly at the discolored skin over Hannibal's shoulder from the fire he had set so long ago. "I hate to punish either of them. I've told you this."

"Then what should we do? He has to learn that these rules are in place for his benefit. We can't go back on our word."

"Is there anything else we could do? Taking away sports will be like taking away his identity, Hannibal and you know it. We can't strip that from him. We've already stripped away so many other things from both of them. Please."

Hannibal sighed and leaned his head back and into Will who kissed at his cheek. "Frau Mülle needs help with her gardening. She's getting too old to do the work herself," Hannibal suggested. "His job will be to help her during the soccer season. If he wishes to play, he needs to complete work for her without payment. Is that fair?"

A smile cracked across Will's face and he pressed another kiss to Hannibal's cheek. "Thank you," he whispered between more kisses. "He'll be so happy."

"Go get him some dinner," Hannibal instructed with a small smile, nuzzling against Will's kisses. "He's probably starving."

"I'll be back in a bit." Will released Hannibal and left the room.

Hannibal sighed and rested back in the bed, closing his eyes. It had been a year and nothing seemed to be getting any easier. Morgan had adjusted and acclimated perfectly. He had never been the issue, but Walter... Hannibal tried. He really did. He had from the moment he had married Will. But there was still some disconnect there. Something between the two of them that Hannibal just could not seem to bridge no matter what he tried.

It didn't matter if he was nice. It didn't matter if he bought Walter gifts. It didn't matter if he expressed himself to Walter. It didn't matter if he let Walter be. It didn't matter what he did, Walter still wanted absolutely nothing to do with him and he had run out of ways to try to fix that.

"He's gone," a rushed voice said as Will raced back into the room. "He's not in his room."

Hannibal's brows furrowed in question and he sat up, looking over Will who was hurriedly pulling on his boots. "Did you check Morgan's room?" Hannibal suggested. "Or maybe he went to the kitchen?"

"I checked all of the usual places. He's not there," Will further explained. Once both of his shoes were tied, he dug through his bedside table drawer and pulled out a flashlight and one of his guns.

"I'm sure he's somewhere around the house," Hannibal said gently. "Let's just go look for-"

"He's not in the house, Hannibal." Will checked the gun to make sure it was loaded before heading for the door. "I don't think he ever was. He likes to go out back when he's angry. He might have gone to the lake or the stream. He likes the water."

"Alright." Hannibal rose to his feet. "Let me get dressed and we'll go look for him."

Hannibal found himself on the back porch and looked around at their vast property of just forest. It went on for miles and Hannibal wasn't even sure where to begin. Did they follow the water like Will had said? It was a fair bet. Walter was a creature of habit and ritual. He didn't like to break his routine. He went to the same places when he was upset or anxious or needed to be alone and as far as Hannibal was aware, that was not the lake or the stream.

"I'm going to go check out by the fallen tree," Hannibal announced, calling Will's attention to him. "If we cover more ground, we could find him far more easily." Will didn't look like he fully agreed with Hannibal's observation, but he didn't argue. He simply nodded and they both went off in their own directions.

Hannibal wandered through the tall grass and in the direction of the pine that had tumbled over in the rather decent storm that had occurred when they had first arrived at their new home. A storm that had knocked out the power and had torn yards to pieces. The tree that had fallen had left a decent sized hole in the ground and a large root system open for the boys to play in.

By it was a pit that Hannibal had been wanting to eventually get cleaned out, though it hadn't been too horribly pressing of a matter. In all honesty, he was fairly certain that the forest had reclaimed most of what had been hidden away in that hole. Not that it was man made in any sense of the word. It, according to his records, had once been someone's property and had been overtaken by a sinkhole. It had swallowed up the home and car and surrounding trees.

It seemed like the right direction though. Walter had always been the curious type of person. He had always been a far more kinesthetic learner than Morgan ever had. Walter enjoyed hands on. He liked projects. He liked making things and fixing things. He liked to create things. He had recently helped Will replace the faucet in one of the bathroom sinks and had figured out how to fix a broken lamp he had picked up from someone's trash bin. A pit of random junk would probably hold some interest for the boy.

The walk was long, longer than Hannibal had thought it would be until he finally stumbled upon the upturned tree whose roots were completely visible now that the dirt had been washed away. Hannibal glanced over it for a moment and was about to try to think of somewhere else to look when a faint whimpering caught his attention.

"Help."

Hannibal thought he had possibly imagined the sound, but he stepped in the direction of it, answering it with his own: "Walter?"

"Hannibal?" The voice ticked up and Hannibal raced towards it. "Help! Please!" A crying followed the pleas, something etched with pain. "Please. Please help me."

Hannibal stopped at the side of the hole and pulled the flashlight from his pocket that Will had made him take, shining it down below him. Walter flinched at the brightness and hid his face in one of his shoulders, body held at an awkward angle. The only thing supporting his body was an old tree and what looked like maybe a chimney from an old house. Both arms were caught. One leg dangled below him while the other was snuggly captured up in another tree branch, twisted at an odd angle and angrily red. The drop below him was a good two stories if Hannibal had to guess.

"Are you alright?" Hannibal asked down as he moved the light away from Walter to look around the hole to see if there was an easy way to get down to him. He didn't want to leave Walter there and run all the way back to the house. It would be another good half an hour of Walter trapped out here if he did.

"My leg hurts, but I'm ok," Walter assured through clenched teeth. "I can't move."

"Give me a moment, son. I'll get you out."

"How?"

Hannibal's light returned to Walter who once more hid his face away at the brightness. He was so far down that Hannibal couldn't just lean over and pull him out. "Do you trust me?"

Walter's eyes blinked open and he slowly looked up at Hannibal through the light. He was silent for a moment, his brow creasing as he thought about the question and Hannibal was ready for the ever normal, Go get my dad. I want Will, response, but it didn't come.

"Yes," the boy finally answered, causing shock to flood Hannibal. Hannibal blinked, waiting for his stunned body to finally move. "I trust you. Please help me. Please."

Hannibal gave a firm nod and once more looked around the large hole for something, anything. None of the trees had strong enough branches to hold him down where Walter had gotten to. But up the pit there was a metal beam that would support him. He didn't dare move it from where it was. It was snuggly dug into the sheer cliff side and there it would stay.

Hannibal lowered himself down into the pit, one hand clutching the side of it as his other used the flash light to see down onto the beam that his feet were firmly on. He released the side and took the beam with both hands, slowly lowering himself down and into the sinkhole.

His shoes, if he would have been wearing anything other than a pair of Will's boots, would have been soaked through in an instant. Luckily the water wasn't deep. It lapped at his ankles as he trudged through rubble and debris of a driveway of some sorts. He climbed over the rusted car and then looked over the structure of the two story house that was decently intact despite the fact that it was nearly fully sideways, trapped between both sides of straight rock.

Hannibal ducked under the roof and stepped around the house, light up until he found Walter's dangling leg.

"Are you alright for a moment longer?" Hannibal called up.

"Yeah," Walter grunted down. "Just... Please help."

Hannibal lowered the light and once more looked over the house before taking the edge of the roof and hoisting himself up onto it. There was a loud creaking and Hannibal paused before carefully rising to his feet. The roof was rotted and looked about ready to cave in, but he just had to risk it. He had to help the boy and oddly enough not because he was expected to like Hannibal had thought would be the case. He actually was worried for the child, though he couldn't show it.

The roof groaned under his weight in disagreement, but Hannibal pushed on in an awkward upwards angle until he reached the remnants of the chimney, the brick barely held together anymore. The mortar had long since dissolved.

When Hannibal finally reached the edge of the roof, he climbed over the lip and onto the adjoining wall and beside Walter. Hannibal's light wandered over the boy once more, trying to figure out the best course of action, the light coming on Walter's injured leg. It was obviously broken, the bone jutting out at an odd angle though it didn't break the skin.

"You're wearing jeans," Walter said through a tight jaw.

Hannibal held back a laugh at the noticed detail and knelt down beside the boy. "I couldn't very well get you out of here in a suit."

"It would have been entertaining," Walter grumbled with a forced laugh that quickly turned to pain. "Please get me out."

Hannibal nodded and reached out, brushing the boy's longer hair from his eyes. They would have to cut it, but that was a task for another day. "There are two ways we can do this. I can lift you up and you can dislodge your foot or you can hold yourself up while I pull your foot from the tree. Both are going to be uncomfortable."

"It's broken, isn't it?" Walter huffed out some air that only made his hair fall back into his face.

"It is."

"Right." Walter stayed quiet as his eyes flickered over the angle his leg was being held in. "Dislodge my foot. I don't think I could move it."

"Do you have a good enough grip to hold yourself up for me?" Hannibal rose back to his feet and carefully maneuvered himself closer to the tree that held Walter captive.

"Yeah. Just hurry."

Hannibal leaned out over the edge of the house, one hand taking the side of the sinkhole for balance, flashlight pointed up at the tree. The house groaned under him again, but he ignored it. With his other hand he reached out and did his best to support Walter's ankle before lifting it from where it was stuck. Walter's cry of pain caused Hannibal to stop and look down at the boy whose teeth were clenched so tightly that they might shatter.

"Don't stop," he hissed and Hannibal carefully lowered Walter's leg down. Once it was released, Walter's arms strained against the extra weight and Hannibal did his best to hurry to take Walter's arms and pull him up and onto the wall. The boy's grip was tight on Hannibal's arms and he was breathing hard when they finally settled themselves out on the house. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck," Walter hissed, his hand immediately going to his leg. "I feel dizzy."

"That's normal. We'll get it taken care of, Walter. For now..." Hannibal trailed off, the flashlight going around them to see the best option out, but he stopped when the beam of light fell once more on Walter. "You're bleeding." Hannibal reached out and pulled at the ripped shirt, to see long scrape marks up Walter's ribcage. "Can you breathe alright?" The worried note was enough to cause Walter to freeze. "You didn't break anything there, did you?"

"I can breathe just fine," Walter replied slowly, wincing and pulling away from Hannibal's searching hand. "Just a scratch."

"You're sure?" Hannibal pushed, once more catching Walter off guard. Walter could only stare at Hannibal who was busy touching the markings down his side. "They aren't deep. They should be fine. You promise it doesn't hurt to breathe?"

"Promise," Walter answered. Merlot met butter and Walter swiftly looked away from the man. "I guess I won't be playing this season, will I?"

"I don't think that will be much of an option at the moment." With a deep breath, Hannibal pulled his hand back from Walter's injury and looked away from the boy. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah..." Walter muttered. "It doesn't matter now, I suppose. How do we get out?"

"Can you hold onto my back?"

Walter's brows furrowed and he looked around them at the straight walls of rock, curious what Hannibal had in mind. Was he going to climb out? It wasn't like he was spider man, unless the ever perfect Hannibal Lecter somehow had super powers. His wiry strength was enough to cause Walter to consider it, even momentarily.

"Yes."

Without another word, Hannibal turned his back to Walter who wrapped his arms around Hannibal's shoulders, clasping his hands tightly in front of the man. Hannibal pushed himself up onto his feet, bringing Walter with him and Walter hid his face into Hannibal's shoulder as his body was adjusted into a position that Hannibal could work with.

"Shit," Walter hissed. "Hannibal."

"I know," Hannibal hushed gently. "Bear with me. We'll get some ice and pain killers when we get back to the house."

"Are you going to set it?"

"No." Hannibal stepped over the lip of the roof and turned so that he could use his hands to help slide down the slope of the roof without knocking Walter into anything. With the flashlight back in his pocket and them completely shrouded in darkness, the killer lowered himself to his hands and knees, feet towards the direction they were going. The smooth texture of the slate-shingles made it difficult to control their descent and Hannibal's fingers dug into each individual tile to make sure they didn't slip, boots not helping as much as he had hoped they would. "We'll take you to the hospital. They could do it far better than I could."

"Alright."

Subtle creaking filled the night and Walter's grip around Hannibal tightened. The creak turned to a cracking that made Hannibal pause in his descent, fingers aching as they clung to the shingles. Going up the roof had been easy, but the extra weight that Walter added wasn't doing them any favors. The house had been unstable to begin with and now Hannibal waited to see if the house would settle before making any rash movements.

From beneath them the sound of items within the home tinkled and moved, nearly sounding like hale falling. Hannibal's eyes closed tightly and he held his breath. "Do not let go of me," he instructed Walter who nodded against Hannibal's back with a small hum.

The clinking of bricks falling started off slow before growing louder and faster, some bricks splashing into the water below and Hannibal could only try to hold his grip on the slick surface of the roof as the angle began to extend.

Glass shattered and wooden beams snapped, the house groaning before dropping a few feet as the dirt walls around them gave. There was a whimper from Walter who clutched to Hannibal whose fingers had been sliced clean open on the shingles they held. The blood slicked his hold and his arms shook with the weight he was trying to hold with hardly any support.

Glass tinkled and the water splashed beneath them. Something in the house squeaked repeatedly and Hannibal placed it as a possible light fixture swinging under the sudden movement. He exhaled deeply and glanced down at the hold he had on the roof for a moment, trying to figure out how to possibly lower them down the height of the roof in one movement, but the angle was too steep now. He would slide if he wasn't careful. One wrong move and they were be slung down into the water that could have all sorts of broken things waiting in it for them.

He lowered a single hand down to the next shingle before following it with his opposite hand, the blood only causing an efficiently smooth surface to become that much harder to cling to.

An extremely loud, high pitched screeching noise erupted the night and it reminded Hannibal of a car trying to start up. The roar that came next was deafening as the house jerked, slipping from where it had been held up in place against both rock faces.

Before Hannibal had a chance to move, his grip faltered and he dropped, air knocked from his as his chest connected with the room of the house. Gravity, the ever methodical force, sucked them downwards and despite the way that Hannibal did his best to break their fall, all that occurred was sharp pains in his fingers as nails were ripped and shredded apart.

He attempted to contort his body to a position where he could turn his head to see what was beneath him and only found something darker than the night getting closer. The opposite wall.

With a sharp jerk the house landed, sending water in every direction as it finally found it's placement. Hannibal winced as he used his foot to break their fall and he hit the wall of the sinkhole, keeping Walter from hitting anything.

Hannibal's ankle screamed in pain as his wet fingers struggled to snatch up something to hold to so they didn't fall further off the room. Walter had hidden himself deep into Hannibal's shoulders, his hands holding fistfuls of Hannibal's shirt. He whimpered, breath hot against Hannibal's back.

"I hate fucking heights!" Walter hissed out, the agony crystal clear in his voice.

Hannibal didn't answer as he did his best to unwedge them from where his foot was trapped awkwardly between the roof and the rock. He pulled himself free and closed his eyes tightly, heat already causing his ankle to swell up in the boots.

"Are you alright?" Hannibal asked, taking a step across the roof that he absolutely could no longer step under to get out. He just hoped that the height from the roof to the ground wasn't too tall.

"Just get us out, please."

Hannibal used both hands to balance himself, one on the house roof, the other on the wall until he reached the edge, pulling the flashlight from his pocket and nearly dropping it from how slick his hands were. His thumb thudded painfully as he turned on the light and used it to see how far down they were needed to drop. Luckily it wasn't far.

The slight drop from the roof and into the water below sent a jolt of pain through Walter and he bit his tongue to try to stay quiet, but the whimper left him all the same. Hannibal frowned and one of his hands took where Walter's were around his neck and held them to reassure the boy that he was alright.

"I'm sorry," Walter whispered into Hannibal's shirt and he hid further into Hannibal's shoulder. Hannibal just kept moving back up the pit and towards the metal beam, curious if he was going to be able to climb back up it. "I'm so sorry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

"Nesijaudink. Tai jau nesvarbu." (Don't worry. It doesn't matter anymore.) They reached the beam and Hannibal did his best to get a good grip on it before hoisting himself up onto it, noting the gasp from Walter. "Viskas gerai. Tau viskas bus gerai." (Everything's alright. You will be fine.)

He wiped his hands off on his jeans to get a better grip on the beam and carefully climbed up it, the angle much more forgiving than the house had been. When he finally pulled them both free of the pit and rose to his feet, his first step was wobbly and unsteady. He let out a small gasp as his ankle rolled with the weight he added to it, but he pushed on, arms reaching back to help support Walter's body so his legs could relax and not grip Hannibal's middle as tightly as they had been.

The walk back was a slow limp, the house eventually coming into view after what felt like a lifetime of wandering through tall grass. Walter hadn't said another word, simply whimpered if Hannibal's balance wavered and when they were finally on the back porch, Walter's grip loosened.

"Do I have to go to the hospital?" he asked softly as Hannibal opened the back door and stepped into the house, closing it behind them.

"Yes. I do not have the equipment to set your leg here," Hannibal explained softly as if it would disturb the household.

"I don't like the hospital," Walter complained, though he didn't fight when Hannibal helped lower him into one of the island kitchen chairs.

"We'll be right there with you." Hannibal made his way over to the sink and turned on the water, filling the palm of his hand with soap. He began to scrub at his hands, stopping at the bright and sharp pain in each of his fingers, a good portion of which were missing nails. But that wasn't important now. Walter was what was important.

Hannibal fetched an icepack from the freezer and some pain killers and water. He set them in front of Walter and looked towards the sound of the back door opening and closing.

"Hannibal?" Will's voice called through the house. "I can't find him."

"In here," Hannibal called back, before his attention returned to Walter. "Take those please."

Will's footsteps rushed into the kitchen and there was a breath of relief as he raced over to where Walter sat, pulling the boy into a hug against his chest. "Don't you ever fucking wander off like that again!" Will hissed, nuzzling his nose into Walter's hair. "You gave both of us a heart attack."

"I'm sorry Dad," Walter whispered.

"Will, Walter needs to be taken to the hospital," Hannibal explained as he grabbed a hand towel to try to dry his still bleeding hands. "Can you stay here with Morgan?"

"Yes?" Will pulled back from Walter and began to look over the boy, his eyes landing on his leg with a frown, concern lacing his voice. "Are you alright?"

Walter shook his head with a shrug and a distant laugh. "I don't know."

"He'll be alright," Hannibal assured, stepping closer. "It just needs to be set."

Will's eyes darted up from Walter and to Hannibal, taking in the limp the man had and the blood dripping from his fingers. Will didn't release Walter, but even more worry slipped across his face. "You got hurt too. Where the hell were you two?"

"The pit. I fell in," Walter explained softly from where he was once more clutched to Will's chest. He let his eyes close with a deep, relieved breath.

"You went to the- Walter!" Will scolded before a blurted out laugh left his mouth. "I'm just glad you're safe. You both are."

"Would you help me get him situated in the car?"

"Just wrap your arm around my shoulder," Hannibal instructed as he scooped the larger boy from the front seat of the car. Walter winced, lip pulled between his teeth, eyes shut tightly. Walter clutched to Hannibal as instructed and hid his face deep in Hannibal's neck.

"It hurts so badly," Walter gasped out, his voice shaking with being on the verge of tears. Each one of Hannibal's steps was a jolt from the man limping, but Walter tried to ignore it.

"Shh, Cinamonas. Tiesiog palaukite šiek tiek ilgiau." (Cinnamon. Just wait a little longer.)

Walter glanced up slightly at the name that he had been called only a handful of times before. He didn't know the exact meaning behind it, but he took it as some sort of endearment. Hannibal had only ever called him it when he had tried to connect with Walter. Walter had shoved it away, noting the way that a similar nickname was given to Morgan, so it obviously wasn't as important as Hannibal tried to enforce. But at this moment, Walter couldn't bring himself to hate the name.

Walter kept his head hidden in Hannibal's neck as they were greeted at the front desk by a receptionist. Walter was only able to catch a few of the words spoken in very swift German. Luckily Hannibal had cleaned both of them up enough before they left to look presentable so there weren't any awkward questions about bloody clothes and torn fingernails, or so Walter assumed. He wasn't exactly sure.

But soon Hannibal took a clipboard of some paperwork to fill out and moved over to a couch to begin working on it. Walter sat carefully in Hannibal's lap and the clipboard set over Walter's thighs gingerly. The pen scratched while another nurse was called and glanced over at Walter for a moment before leaving down a long hallway, most likely to get a wheelchair if Walter had to guess.

Walter watched as the nearly foreign language was written out across the empty spaces across the page, until Hannibal came to a certain line that Walter knew all too well. He knew what those words meant and he knew exactly why Hannibal hesitated with Walter watching him work.

On other forms that a guardian had to sign, normally Will filled them all out and so this had never come up as somewhat of a dilemma. But the longer that Hannibal hesitated over what to write, Walter reached out and took the pen, scribbling the word Vater (Father) across the line. He blinked at the word, hand stilling as he came to the realization of what he had written.

Not a word needed to be spoken. Hannibal clearing his throat seemed to speak volumes enough. Walter held the pen out to the man and Hannibal took it back to finish filling out the paperwork now that the issue had been settled. An air of something that Walter couldn't quite place settled in around the two of them as Walter settled back into the strength of the man who had been injured himself just to protect him.

The nurse returned with a wheelchair and Walter's grip instinctively tightened around Hannibal's neck at the realization that he was about to be pulled away from the man. Hannibal inhaled deeply and held the finished paperwork out to the nurse who took it and began flipping through it without a word.

Hannibal's eyes turned their attention to the boy who was curled up against his chest. He had never known Walter to be afraid. Or at least, he had never shown it in such a way before. He wasn't clingy, he wasn't small, and he didn't hide for protection. That wasn't the Walter that Hannibal had come to know and in all honesty, Hannibal wasn't sure what he was meant to do with this new side of the boy.

Walter was stubborn to the point of near impossibility. He was loud and only listened to the word no because Will made sure he did. Walter would have a bright future as a lawyer if he wanted to ever pursue the avenue. He had an argument or loophole for everything and would use them just to get under Hannibal's skin even on the worst of days.

"Don't leave me alone," Walter whispered in explanation. "I don't trust them."

"They won't hurt you," Hannibal tried to reason, but Walter only shook his head in disagreement. "They're trained and will take-"

"I can't speak German." Walter sat up just enough to meet Hannibal's maroon eyes. "And I trust you far more than I trust them. Don't leave me alone, Father."

Hannibal's eyes widened slightly and Walter was surprised to see shock on Hannibal's features. It was rare to see anymore than just a small flicker of emotion on the man's face and Walter wasn't exactly sure why Hannibal looked so stunned. It wasn't a new name. Morgan called him that all the time now. Walter wasn't exactly sure when the name had changed from Hanni to Father, but he had just tried to let it slide off his back, swearing that he would never fall into that same trap. That same charmed spell that both his dad and Morgan had fallen into, but it seemed like he hadn't been able to escape after all.

Hannibal licked at his suddenly dry lips and tried to ignore the way that something light pulled in his chest. Morgan had been calling him Father for months now, but Walter had made a strong point to only ever call Hannibal by sir or his name. To hear that one single word slip from Walter's mouth opened up a whole new room that Hannibal was hesitant to explore. The unknown had never bothered him before, but Walter was a different beast altogether and Hannibal didn't know if he was quite ready for the honor that came with that unknown finally being open to him.

"You do understand what you're saying," Hannibal muttered out, surprise lacing his breath. He stared at the boy curiously, waiting for Walter to change his answer or come to the realization of what he had just said.

"Yes, I do. Don't go." Walter's brows furrowed in worry at approaching footsteps and he swiftly changed to Lithuanian in fear of one of the nurses possibly knowing English and understanding his request. "Ar negalite to padaryti patys?" (Can't you do it yourself?)

"Ar tikitės, kad paprašysiu medicinos personalo leisti man susitvarkyti jūsų koją naudojant jų įrangą?" (Do you expect me to ask the medical staff to let me tidy up your leg using their equipment?) Hannibal asked with a small smile, the idea worth entertaining for amusement's sake at the very least.

"Taip, tėve. Prašau." (Yes, father. Please.)

"O kas, jei jie man neleis?" (And what if they won't let me?)

There was an interesting shift in the air that caused Hannibal pause and he wondered if it was the same environment that Will had experienced once long ago with this same boy as a flicker of darkness peaked out behind the mask in place.

"Galite priversti juos daryti viską, ko norite. Aš žinau, kad tu gali." (You can make them do whatever you want. I know that you can.) The words from the boy's mouth were low and harsh, pulling at Hannibal's interest once more. Walter always held a fascination for Hannibal, something that he couldn't quite put his finger on. How much like Will the boy was. Fighting so hard against the nature that was inside of him.

A smile ticked up the corners of Hannibal's lips. "I am going to be with you every step of the way."

"Tėvas-" (Father-)

"Nothing will ever happen to you while I am around. You're perfectly safe," Hannibal assured, eyes flickering up to the nurse who was patiently waiting to wheel Walter somewhere further into the hospital. "Aš nugriausiu kiekvieną iš jų, jei jie tave įskaudins." (I will demolish each of them if they hurt you.)

"I'm fine," Walter repeated for Will once more as Hannibal limped him through the house and up the stairs to his room, Will following close behind them. "Really. Just tired."

"They have him taking some painkillers that will probably keep him decently drowsy for the time being," Hannibal explained over his shoulder.

"How long will he be in the cast?" Will questioned, opening up the bedroom door when they finally reached it.

"Fortunately it was a clean tibial shaft fracture. One to two months and then a brace. It could take up to six months before he's fully healed though."

"No soccer," Walter grumbled, causing his dad to laugh nervously.

"I don't think that soccer is what you should be worried about," Will scolded lightly, sitting on the edge of the bed as Hannibal rested the boy down. Walter snuggled down into the pillows with a yawn as Hannibal carefully covered him with the blankets. Will brushed back the boy's hair with a sigh. "I'm glad you're alright."

"Morgan?" Walter questioned, his eyes already closed and his voice barely above a mumble.

"Asleep," Will answered. "Like you should be."

"Is there anything else you need before we go to bed?" Hannibal asked gently, a hand taking Will's shoulder with a light squeeze. Walter shook his head with another yawn. "I'll check on you in a few hours for your next dose of medicine."

"Ok." Will rose from the bed with a deep breath and let Hannibal guide him from the room to let the boy rest. "Night Dad."

"Night Wally," Will called over his shoulder reaching out to close the bedroom door behind them.

"Night Father."

Will paused, hand frozen on the door handle, something sharp filling his chest. It wasn't so much a bad feeling as it was something of shock. He looked from Walter's body in his bed and to his husband who didn't meet his gaze.

"Goodnight, son," was Hannibal's answer and Will couldn't stop the smile from spreading over his lips as the feeling of finally set over him. Will closed the door and turned back to his husband who didn't address the comment, just kissed him lightly and took his hand. "Let's get some rest too, my love."

"How are-"

"I'm fine." Hannibal's hand slipped around Will's waist and guided him down several winding hallways and towards their room. "Promise."

"How long has he been calling you that?" Will questioned, causing Hannibal to pause before finally opening their bedroom door to enter it. Will couldn't help but smile as Hannibal ignored the question and went to the bathroom to get ready for bed. Will sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed at his face with a deep breath. "Hannibal, when did he start calling you that?"

"Tonight," was answered from the open bathroom door, the running water of the sink starting up.

Will collapsed back on the bed and closed his eyes. He could recall the first day that Walter had finally called him dad and the amount of pride that had come with it. The feeling that Will was finally doing something right with his life and that he was accepted by this child who wasn't his, but he was absolutely going to put in the effort for, because that was what Walter deserved. It was something euphoric.

"How does it feel to be a parent?" Will teased as the water turned off and uneven footsteps left the bathroom. The bedroom fell into darkness as the bathroom light was turned off.

"Better than the first time," Hannibal replied as he sat on the other side of the bed. Will tipped his head back to look over Hannibal curiously and Hannibal met his gaze with a soft smile, leaning across the bed to place a kiss to Will's lips. "She is not the subject of this conversation."

"Does she need to be? We've never really gone into full depth about-"

Will was hushed with another kiss. "Not tonight, my love." Hannibal collapsed into the bed, head beside Will's, nuzzling into the boy's curls. "I would rather sit in the bliss that is this moment if you don't mind."

"I would never rob you of it. Walter is difficult to connect with."

"Just like his dad."

Will snorted and nipped teasingly at Hannibal's cheekbone.

Walter listened as his parents' footsteps faded away and on the foggy precipice of sleep, he could make out something opening and closing. It wasn't until he felt a family presence force its way into the bed with him that Walter finally was able to place what it was.

"Morgan," Walter grumbled with a frown, nuzzling his face into his pillow. "Not tonight please."

"I didn't have a nightmare," Morgan answered, snuggling down into Walter's side.

"Then why are you here?"

"You always protect me when I'm scared or hurt. It's my turn now."

"What kind of shit is that, Einstein?" Walter yawned once more, sleep pulling so tightly on his body that he felt heavy with it. "Can we please just sleep?"

"Ok Wally. I hope you feel better."

"Thanks kid."