I am SO SO SO sorry it took me so long to update! But, ya know, it being summer and all...I got too caught up relaxing and stuff! bear with me!
As usual, reviews and critics are much much appreciated!
Disclaimer: I don't own anything and blablabla.
Enjoy :D
"What?"
Hannibal kept his gaze fixed on him without answering.
"King Arthur?" repeated Will, staring at him in disbelief.
"Yes."
"The King Arthur?"
"I believe there's only one."
"But it's a fairytale" stated Will, still eyeing him. The corners of Hannibal's mouth titled upwards a little at the expected answer, his gaze moving to the first-aid kit and taking a moment before returning to Will.
"Everyone has at least once heard of King Arthur and his brave Knights. Only few know that the legend is actually inspired by an existent historical figure."
They exchanged a long stare, Will's eyes wide, trying to extrapolate from the psychiatrist's expression any sign of derision, having never heard of this true story behind the myth, Hannibal's eyes steady, locked with his, calm and confident as always.
"With this real Arthur, there doesn't happen to be also a Galahad, or any of the other knights, by any chance?"
Hannibal observed him: Will's posture suggested disbelief and curiosity, reluctant to believe such a story but wanting to hear more of it nonetheless.
"Yes Will, that happens to be the case" he replied, making him freeze right where he sat on the stool.
Will blinked a few times, his eyes frantically looking all around, trying not to let his thoughts wander off to easy but not believable conclusions. Those words seemed to imply much more than they meant, suggesting a road he refused to take, to even acknowledge because of its ridiculousness and insanity.
Even so, he found himself wanting to hear more about it, wanting to find inconsistencies with the dreams he had had in order to allow him to brush the ridiculous idea that was now nudging him aside, but at the same time desperately wanting to find a reasonable explanation for the overlapping reality and for those weird dreams his subconscious gave birth to. All considering, neither option was preferable, both implying that he was going insane, this time for real.
Given the silence that followed his last sentence, Hannibal was in no hurry to tell further details, instead leaving his last words linger in the room and sink in Will's mind. He could almost see the chaotic rummaging of his thoughts, his restless eyes darting all over the floor being proof of it, as well as his deepening frown. Smirking a bit to himself, he pondered leaving him with only this much information, and call it a night. He was, after all, suffering from a concussion from the crash, even if he seemed fine enough.
"Let's talk about this tomorrow, Will. For the time being, you need to rest."
Will's eyes darted up meeting Hannibal's firm gaze, pushing his chaotic thoughts aside.
"Wait, no, I-" He shut his mouth as Hannibal lifted his hand, silencing him.
"No Will, you almost surely have a concussion. Even if you feel fine right now, your body needs to rest and recover."
"My body is fine" he almost whined, huffing a bit. Hannibal looked at him like a parent looking at his whiny kid who doesn't want to go to bed yet.
"Will" he said in a commanding tone that admitted no reply. Will gave in, snorting a bit more, standing up and walking out of the kitchen, following his lead toward the stairs.
Hannibal made way, walking ahead of him but glancing every now and then over his shoulder, making sure Will was following and ready to catch him if he were to falter. He led him to a bedroom, its king-size bed covered in dark classy coverlet, the white sheets immaculate, a sober chandelier hanging from the ceiling, the soft light grazing the furniture in a yellowish caress.
Will put a hand on the coverlet, following with his fingertips the intricate pattern, appreciating its softness.
"I will come and check on you during the night, wake you up if I feel there's a need. The bathroom is right there. Call me if there's anything you need."
Will turned around, noticing that Hannibal had brought him nightclothes and towels.
"Thank you but please, don't mind me."
"As a doctor and a friend, it is my duty and pleasure." Hannibal smiled a bit, moving to the door. "Now rest, Will. Sleep well."
"Thank you, Doctor Lecter. Goodnight." And with a click of the door, he was alone.
After a moment, feeling a bit uncomfortable in an unfamiliar bedroom, Will went to the bathroom turning the light on and looking at his reflection in the mirror above the sink. He brushed his hair to the side to take a better look at the cut on his forehead, touching it lightly with the tips of his fingers, hissing at the slight feeling of burn. It was a long cut, right below his hairline, but he noticed that Hannibal's bandaging was flawless, and probably had to thank medical school for that.
Letting his hand drop and his hair fall back in place in its usual untidy locks, Will sighed heavily, his reflection sighing with him. He had possibly never looked worse, he almost looked like a ghost, pale skin and wide eyes, dark bags under them. He turned the water on and splashed some on his face, meeting his eyes in the mirror, drops running down his neck and hanging on his eyelashes. He squeezed his eyes shut, passing his hands on his face, drying himself up a bit.
He blinked a few times before his breath stopped in his lungs, his mouth slightly open in surprise. For a second there he thought he had seen someone else staring back, someone whose face he had seen once, reflected in a water bowl, lighted up by the candlelight. Someone with a month-old beard. Now there was only him, a very startled and tired version of him, but definitely him, reflected in the mirror.
"I am going completely insane" he muttered to himself, too tired to panic over it, simply brushing this episode aside and moving towards the bed, turning the light off as he exited the bathroom. He carefully removed his clothes but did not touch the ones Hannibal had placed on the drawer, knowing he would drench them in sweat during the night, opting to sleep only in his boxers and undershirt, even if it meant that the following morning he'd have to wear the sweater on his bare skin.
He sank in the bed, tucking the sheets and duvet tight around him, and switched the light off, the room now engulfed in the dark, and closed his eyes. His head felt light, and ached a bit, probably from the concussion but also from his too many thoughts. He let out a shaky breath, now starting to feel his body aching all over, a dull pain coming from every muscle he had, the exhaustion flooding over him and swallowing him whole, the ache fading as he drifted in a deep sleep.
Flashes of battlefield grounds, swords clattering, blood spilling, voices screaming filled his vision before fading into nothing.
The taste of wine filled his mouth, laugher ringed in his ears, familiar faces surrounded him, then it all blurred away.
Then felt lips moving hungrily on his own, teeth scraping on his lover lip, kissing him deep, like he wanted to eat him up, barely allowing him to breathe. As startled as he was, Will was barely responding to it, the sensation overwhelming. Firm hands were keeping him there, cupping his cheeks, not allowing him to move away. He felt his blood rush through his body, warming his skin, making his heart bump loud in his chest.
The other broke the kiss, making him gasp for air and open his eyes abruptly, the sudden loss leaving him hanging. In the dim light he met a pair of brown eyes a few inches away, staring hungrily, almost famished, behind a few dark strands of hair.
Will was frozen in place, his eyes wide, staring back, like a deer in the headlights.
Tristan let his eyes drop to the floor and bowed his head a little, letting out a trembling breath. He locked their gaze one last time before turning way, his hands leaving his cheeks, the hot feeling of his touch still lingering on his skin, and in a second he was gone.
Will stumbled forward, mouth slightly open, breath rushed, not really realizing what just happened. Then it all faded to black.