A cold, dry autumn sun peered down through sparse clouds like a young woman might peek through lace curtains.
The construction site below stretched a good three blocks, an expanse of dirt mounds, heavy equipment, and scrap metal. A dozen or so workers moved about the area, easily identified by the bright yellow hard hats and orange vests they all wore.
The glare of the sun made Will blink uneasily as he stepped out of Hannibal's sleek BMW. He tried to keep indoors on sunny days whenever possible. It made him feel vulnerable, too wide out in the open. The comfort of low, grey ceilings or the cover of darkness was his preferred weather.
A dull pounding in the back of his skull made him roll his neck before shutting the door. A migraine was upon him. It was just starting to embed thin needles of pain down his neck and shoulders. It was an unfortunate side effect of not taking his usual dose of suppressants and the knowledge made him grind his teeth in self-reproach. He never forgot.
Back at the hotel, in his haste to get ready after Hannibal had offered to wait in the car, Will had scrambled to bathe and dress without taking longer than absolutely necessary. To his dismay the water in the bathroom was still denying him heat. He ended up taking a frigid shower anyway, all the while with his insides screaming to get back to the Alpha that was waiting for him outside. His preoccupation with that particular urge, along with the frustration of having to take a cold shower, made him rush out the door without the familiar little bottle – along with his socks. He had gone back for the latters with a flushed face, completely forgetting about the pills after Hannibal made an amused comment about his bare ankles.
Twenty minutes of driving to this particular site on the outskirts of Baltimore locked in a car with the Alpha hadn't done much to calm his head either. Will had his window rolled down the entire way, preferring to have his face blasted with cold air rather than endure Hannibal's irresistible scent. The embarrassment he knew he would suffer at the behest of his bodily drives kept him occupied. He knew that Hannibal's magnetic aura, if remained unchecked, would swiftly deteriorate inhibitions and flood the Omega's body with hormones that would tell him yes, now would most definitely be a good time to fuck.
And that absolutely was not going to happen.
He received a couple of questioning looks from said Alpha for the strange behavior but otherwise the ride had gone smoothly.
"Will, are you all right?" Hannibal uttered presently, his voice warbling and distorted as if coming from far away.
Will opened his eyes, not realizing they had been closed. Looking up in confusion he saw the doctor walk around the vehicle, concern barely concealed on his face. It was apparent from his furrowed brow and the slight downturned corners of his lips. The dark trench coat he was wearing accentuated his height and long, straight lines of his body, with a supple plaid scarf around the throat to add some softness. Will followed them from top to bottom hungrily, unable to stop himself despite the pain knotted at the base of his skull.
As Hannibal approached his head tilted slightly with a focus that made him look positively jaw-dropping. A rush of sweet scotch and musk hit the afflicted Omega and he had to clench his fists to stop from whimpering to encourage the Alpha to come closer.
"I'm fine," he sputtered instead, pressing his back to the glossy car behind him and dragging a hand over his face. "Just a headache."
Hannibal's scent intensified and Will dropped his arm. The man appeared right in front of him, frowning deeper as if reprimanding him for some unknown wrongdoing. He couldn't take his eyes off the curves of those lips.
"Where does it hurt, Will?"
His voice was unbearably soft and full of knowing, as if he could browse through Will's thoughts and feelings as easily as flipping through a magazine. Brief irritation sparked inside him at that, but he was feeling too unsteady to act on it.
"Back of my head," he muttered, relinquishing his view of Hannibal's lips and dropping his eyes to the ground. It felt good to be questioned about his health and even better to obey a direct question from a strong Alpha. He couldn't remember the last time anyone had besides Jack Crawford and he didn't count.
Will eased his neck to the side at the soothing pressure of Hannibal's presence. It whispered to him to stay, to close his eyes, to submit. Remembering the heavy heat of his palm as he had cradled his forehead back at the hotel, he yearned to feel it again.
"Omegas tend to store stress in the deep muscles of the shoulders and neck," Hannibal said softly, dark green eyes searching Will's distressed form and breathing his scent into his lungs. It was an exquisite perfume, a fresh cut of wild pine with the sweet note of blood among the needles. "That, and along with not taking your suppressants I'm sure you must be uncomfortable. Would you allow a brief massage? It would do wonders for that headache."
Will's stomach tightened in anticipation before he even replied, betraying his thoughts which had become a blur. He wanted the Alpha to touch him again…and he didn't. Memories of the past surfaced like ugly creatures with gaping mouths, reminding him that nearly all previous physical interactions led to violence in one way or another. The scars he kept hidden proved it, but Hannibal was different. He was a gentleman, refined and courteous, and refusing an Alpha like that who offered him relief was insane. Plus, back at the hotel nothing inappropriate had happened and it very well could have.
The knowledge spiked his conviction and he raised his eyes to meet Hannibal's.
"I-I yes, thank you."
With a dark inward smile Hannibal struck like a snake, reaching out to gently cradle the side of Will's enticing throat. Reveling in the jerk that followed, the Alpha uttered a low soothing murmur to ease him. The effect was instant; Will's body relaxed into his touch and he exhaled a long breath that had been trapped in his chest. Those pretty eyes fluttered shut and his lips parted.
Amazed at the Omega's encouraging reaction, Hannibal began applying steady pressure to the firm muscles of Will's neck with his fingertips, moving them in slow, comforting circles. A slow, liquid burn made its way through the inside of his body as he watched Will hastily bite his lower lip to prevent the sound that was obviously building in him. Hannibal pressed harder, wanting to hear it, needing to know the sound of his feelings made vocal.
A twitch racked Will's body and he groaned through clenched teeth, a desperate sound barely the length of his breath. It caught fire in Hannibal's core and for one moment he wondered that he might just press this trembling Omega against his car and ravage him in broad daylight in front of the construction workers and whoever else may be watching. That, however, would not be beneficial in gaining Will's trust and he gained a modicum of control.
"Will - "
"Please stop touching me."
Surprise made Hannibal drop his hand immediately from the warmth of Will's neck. The man's face had gone pale and his gaze was hovering somewhere near his shoes. The sour smell of fear had suddenly tainted his lush fragrance and the Alpha backed up to give him space.
"I'm sorry," he said genuinely, wondering what could have triggered such a reaction. Concern quashed his arousal a snuffed flame and his skin prickled with the knowledge that something he had done made him respond so negatively. Hannibal was steadily planning on becoming Will's anchor, his rock, the one he would go to in need. If he flinched and soured at his mere touch, things needed to change. The urge to comfort the Omega was extreme but the Alpha knew it wasn't possible; he consented to stay where he was and not press him.
Will just shook his head and crossed his arms, still not meeting his eyes.
"It's not your fault," he muttered. "I'm fine."
It was apparent that nothing of the sort was true, but this was neither the time nor place to discuss it. Hannibal was already organizing ways in which to peel back Will's defenses, layer by layer, until he reached the sweet core of truth deep in the center of him.
And oh, how sweet it would be.
XXX
"Did Mr. Hobbs have a daughter?" Will asked the confused-looking secretary, "Eighteen or nineteen, plain but pretty with auburn hair?"
They had arrived at a portable office on the construction site, aka a metal box filled with filing cabinets, one desk, and a mousy Beta by the name of Dixie. Suspicion and concern wafted from her at the appearance of the strong Alpha and heavily scented Omega.
Hannibal busied himself by looking through a folder of resignation letters; Dixie hadn't offered to retrieve it for them.
"Might have. Maybe. I don't know. I don't keep company with these people," she quipped rudely, keeping her lips tight.
Hannibal handed Will a letter with 'Garret Jacob Hobbs' at the top, giving Dixie a dark look. She would do well sliced up in a mince pie with delicate flaky crust, seasoned with cinnamon and nutmeg. Will would find her positively delightful then…
"He left a phone number with no address," Will observed, frowning slightly.
"Therefore he has something to hide?" Hannibal said lightly, standing closely behind him to read over his shoulder.
Will tilted his head in a half-shrug, unconsciously leaning nearer.
"Everyone else left one. Do you have an address for Mr. Hobbs?"
A few minutes later found Hannibal passing boxes of files to Will and Dixie to bring to the car. She was incredulous at being asked to help carry them but Hannibal had given her a look that suggested she assist…or else.
At handing over the last box, Hannibal allowed himself to upend it while handing it to Dixie, spilling papers across the ground. Huffing, she bent to retrieve them with Will assisting like the kind-hearted Omega he was.
Smirking at her reaction, Hannibal used the time to quietly close the office door and move to the ancient rotary on the desk. He pulled a tissue from his pocket and dialed Garret Jacob Hobbs' number with a covered finger. It was time to stir the pot, so to speak. If everything went well, Will would have no choice but to fall into his waiting arms – Jack Crawford and Alana Bloom would demand it.
Bloomington, Minnesota
The rolling bell of the kitchen telephone stirred Abigail Hobbs from her task of chopping carrots beside her father. She set down the large knife and brushed her hands briefly on her jeans before answering it.
"Hello? Yeah, just a second."
Pale blue eyes turned to her father curiously and she held out the phone to him.
"Dad? It's for you."
Garret Jacob Hobbs took the handheld, his expression one of suppressed wariness.
"Who is it?"
"Caller ID said it was blocked," she replied before turning back to the carrots.
Hobbs pressed the phone to his ear, his gaze jumping around the room as though unsure where to look.
"Hello?"
Construction Trailer Office
A calculating smile, small but meaningful, passed across Hannibal's face.
"Mister Garret Jacob Hobbs?"
"Yes."
"You don't know me and I suspect we'll never meet. This is a courtesy call – are you listening?"
"...yes."
He paused significantly before continuing.
"They know."
XXX
As soon as Hannibal pulled up into the Hobbs' driveway, Will saw the door of the cozy home get flung open. A middle-aged man, presumably Garret Jacob Hobbs, emerged looking wild and hauling his wife with him; he shoved her onto the small concrete porch and retreated back into the house, slamming the door behind him.
Will didn't even think; he saw himself burst out of Hannibal's car and race to the fallen and bloodied Beta. Blood was gushing out of a gaping wound in her neck in thick spurts and she collapsed onto her back.
No, no, no-!
Dropping to his knees beside her, he tried to stem the flow of blood with his hands but she was already dead. Her face was pale as crimson bled from her and in mere moments she was still.
Anger welled in him, dark and thick like smoke. Seeing a mate so carelessly disposed of was disgusting and infuriating and Will's vision tinged with red. Snarling, he gathered his strength and rammed his shoulder into the painted wooden door. It cracked but didn't break. Heaving, he lined up again and put all of his force into a well-placed kick, this time smashing it open. Drawing his gun, he lurched into the house, assaulted by the dense musky scent of the unfamiliar male Alpha.
"Garret Jacob Hobbs, FBI!"
He followed it through a dark living room and into the kitchen where he was met with an alarming sight.
Hobbs was holding his daughter with a knife to her throat, baring his teeth and growling loudly. His cold grey eyes were wide with madness and fervor and fixed on Will with disturbing focus. The scent issuing from his skin was electric and filled the room with intense energy. Abigail was whimpering and gripping his arms tightly as if trying to seek comfort from the one that was threatening her life. Tears of fear and panic rolled down her face and she looked at Will as if begging him to save her.
Each sound was amplified in Will's brain; the heavy breathing of Hobbs, Abigail's sounds of terror, and his own blood pounding in his ears was making it difficult to think clearly. He knew he only had mere moments to react.
He tried to raise his gun quickly but everything was happening in slow motion. Somehow only his heartbeat was in real-time, not raging in a quick, fearful staccato but steady with heavy thumps that shook his ribs. The gun reached shoulder height before time caught the gist and sped back up to normalcy.
Hobbs slashed his daughter' throat with one wide arc and Will was firing before he realized he was pulling the trigger.
The Alpha reeled backwards after six, seven, eight rounds were pumped into him and he collided with the counter. Abigail collapsed to the tiled floor, arterial spurts of blood decorating the faded yellow flower pattern.
Will fired two more times, bringing the Alpha down where he fell into a semi-sitting position against the kitchen cabinets. His expression was that of shock as though he couldn't quite believe what had just happened.
Turning from the murderer the Omega fell to Abigail's side, not feeling his knees hit the floor. A mirror of her mother, thick blood was pouring from the gaping wound at the young girl's throat and he scrambled to put pressure on it with his bare hands. The organic, slightly metallic scent of it rose to him, warm and coppery. So much was coming out, so much…
A buzzing numbness was steadily filling his brain as he watched her face contort with pain, fear, and confusion. She kept trying to look over at her father.
Will followed her eyes up to Hobbs'.
"See?" The dying Alpha whispered as their gazes connected. "See?"
The room darkened around them and grew colder. The tiled floor became slick black ice and wisps of snow began falling from the void above. Emptiness took the place of the kitchen around them and Hobbs' eyes became dead pools of moonlight in the shadows, staring eerily at him, challenging the Omega to understand, to know.
Will wanted none of it – he tore his eyes from the Alpha and turned to the sticky warmth that was pooling around him, shaking with the effort to stay sane.
Abigail Hobbs was dead under his hands, milky white eyes staring up at him almost reproachfully. The skin of her throat felt rubbery as he tried to hold it together but blood was pouring out too fast, much too fast – it was soaking his knees and creeping up the sides of Abigail's body. Soon it had covered her until only her pale face remained on the surface. Still he tried to save her, holding his hands tightly around her neck even though he was up to his wrists in warm blood.
The sound of hooves sloshing behind him signaled the arrival of the antlered beast. It was huge, a monster of a stag, with glossy black feathers that ruffled drily as they moved. It breathed a long stream of air down the back of Will's neck, making him shiver as he stared into the blank face of Abigail Hobbs, floating in blood. It was applauding him, proud of him.
"Will? It's alright, let go. I've got her."
The cold blackness fell away like a veil and Hannibal's face appeared on the other side, surrounded by the domestic scene of the Hobbs' kitchen. He was facing Will calmly, gently pressing his hand against Abigail's wound. His familiar scent came with him, dominating all others and shrouding Will in its warmth like a protective animal. It mixed with the headiness of Abigail's blood, creating a cocktail of pheromones that sent his head swimming.
Hannibal was here, right here, and Abigail was still alive. It was going to be okay…
He nodded shakily. Feeling the Alpha's hands against his own made him shudder but he relinquished his grip; he was no doctor and Hannibal clearly knew what he was doing.
See?
Will balked and fell backwards, snapping his head around to where Hobbs' body lay reclined against the cupboards. Echoing laughter and the one-syllable word echoed in his head, not from between the man's unmoving lips but directly into his mind. Sharp fear stung him like insects.
"Will? Will!"
It grew in volume, threatening to pull him back down into darkness. A trembling groan escaped him and with eyes rolling, the Omega collapsed.