Morgan: Age 7
Walter: Age 14
Walter's phone was held firmly in Morgan's hands, and Morgan's tongue was stuck out mindlessly as he tried to keep the phone steady. Not that Walter was moving much, but he wanted to make sure the recording was perfect for their parents.
It wasn't that Will and Hannibal didn't enjoy going to Walter's games or supporting Walter. They had just figured that it was safer for them to stay home, to not draw more attention to themselves than they needed. Morgan hadn't really tried to understand the full meaning of those words. He did his best to just accept whatever Will and Hannibal told him and to just roll with it, but Walter had never truly been like that. Walter had to dig into everything and Morgan realized that it just left Walter upset.
Morgan didn't want to be upset, so he just let it be. Will and Hannibal felt safer in their villa by the canal than at Walter's soccer game and that was fine. Morgan could record the games for them to watch at home. They always seemed to enjoy that.
It also wasn't often that Walter and Morgan got to go out on their own. Morgan found himself not straying too far from home. He didn't really have many friends so there wasn't anyone to hang out with and he doubted that anyone would enjoy the things that he enjoyed, so he spent a good portion of his time with Hannibal.
But when Walter came home from school, things always seemed to lighten up, even if Walter had a bad day. It made life a little less dull to be with Walter and so any chance Morgan had to go do something with the older boy, Morgan jumped at it. Even if that meant sitting in itchy grass on a hot day while Walter stopped footballs from going into a goal for over an hour, he would take it.
The small crowd of families around Morgan cheered as a ball was kicked to Walter and Walter dove, stopping the ball. Walter got back to his feet, ball in hand and jersey and knees grass stained. He took a few good running steps and let the ball drop, kicking it all the way back up the field.
Morgan followed the action with the phone and nearly sneezed as the sunlight blinded him. He did his best to push the tickling away and gave a sigh of relief as the referee blew his whistle, signaling the end of the game. Morgan lowered the phone to his lap and waited while Walter jogged across the field and to his team that were all gathering on the line to wish the other team a good game.
Once done, Walter rushed over to him and Morgan held out a water bottle to Walter, who took it with a grateful nod and took a large mouthful, swishing it around and gargling it before spitting it out. Morgan tipped his head to the side in question at the almost ritualistic action that Walter took whenever he drank water after exercising.
"Why do you do that?"
Walter held up a singular finger as he downed the water bottle. He crushed the empty bottle and tossed it to the grass, where Morgan picked it up. "It supposedly helps remove the air bubbled from your stomach so you don't get cramps," Walter explained, ripping at the hem of the long sleeved goalie shirt he had to wear over his normal jersey. He pulled it over his head and shook out his sweat damp hair. Next came the gloves that had some special sort of grip on them to better stick to the ball. The velcro was tugged at by Walter's teeth and both gloves were shed. "Fuck, it's hot."
"Do you need more water?" Morgan got to his feet, holding out Walter's phone to him. Walter took it and shoved it into his shorts pocket. Morgan grabbed up Walter's backpack and tossed it over his shoulder, turning so Walter could shove the goalie shirt and gloves into it.
"I'm fine," Walter assured. "But we can stop for gelato on the way home if you want."
"Is it because you won?" Morgan turned back around to face a confused and sweaty look. "You only like to get gelato if you win."
Walter blinked at realization. "I guess it's a mini reward."
The two boys began the long walk home from Walter's school, Walter's cleats clomping loudly on the sidewalk. They stopped for gelato, each with a little cup that was quickly melting as they continued to walk home.
"Do you think we'll have to do combat when we get home?" Walter asked in a grumble and Morgan shrugged.
"Your game or practice has never stopped it before," Morgan answered simply before shoving a spoonful of dessert into his mouth. "You hate it that much?"
"Don't you?" Walter asked back, kicking at a rock with his cleat, their speed slowing down dramatically as if they could somehow stop the inevitable if they just walked slow enough.
"I don't mind it," Morgan answered, head tilting side to side in thought. "I think it's kinda fun. In a boot camp kind of way."
"You've never been to boot camp," Walter snorted around a spoonful.
"So? I'm sure we could do whatever they do better than they could."
"You think you're so smart now, don't you?"
Morgan shrugged once more. "Smarter than you. You still can't speak German."
"Why you little!" Walter reached out for Morgan, but the smaller boy broke into a sprint down the street with a laugh, his gelato falling to the ground. "Hey, you're not supposed to run off alone!" Walter rolled his eyes, watching the little boy disappear. As much as he didn't want to babysit the boy, he knew what was expected of him, what had always been expected of him. Walter took one more bite of his treat before picking up Morgan's mess and throwing both away.
He was a little worn from the game, but the burn in his legs felt satisfying as he sprinted his way into an alley and towards St. Mark's square. Saturdays were always busier than normal, but that only made finding Morgan a bit more fun. All he had to do was find the backpack. Normally that would be an impossible endeavor with the number of tourists around the square, but that backpack was special. It was the one that Walter had had since leaving with his mom to live with his grandparents. The backpack he had taken to the Vergers and then onto Europe. It had always been with him.
It was simple and grey, stained and worn, but there was a Green Lantern logo on it. And lord have mercy on all of Walter's friends who had never read a comic before in their lives and didn't know what a DC superhero was.
No one else in the entirety of the world had that same bag, Walter was certain. Only little Morgan would have that bag and Morgan wouldn't be hard to pick out in a crowd. He still looked like a stuffy private schooler even though he had never stepped foot in anything other than Hannibal's Dictating Academy where the uniform might as well have been black tie.
Afternoon heat be damned. There was that white button up with the stupid tie and dress shorts. And there was that backpack. Morgan was hidden within a group of children who were busy looking on at a man who was covered in pigeons as if he were their nest.
Walter stepped through the crowd of people and was swift to snatch up Morgan from the group of kids, throwing the boy up and over his shoulder. Morgan gave a small laugh. "I thought you wouldn't find me this time!"
"You stick out like a sore thumb, kid," Walter huffed, shifting Morgan a bit more and starting off through the crowd.
"Put me down, Grant," Morgan ordered with another laugh, hands gripping to Walter's shirt tightly to make sure he didn't fall, though he knew Walter wouldn't drop him.
"You need to dress like everyone else if you want to blend in, Einstein."
"Put me down. I can walk by myself." Walter rolled his eyes as Morgan kicked his legs and let the boy back to his feet. "Last one home has to do the dishes."
"I always do the dishes," Walter grumbled with a roll of his eyes. "You wouldn't do them even if I won."
"Tonight is fondue. You know how hard it is to get the cheese out of the pot once it sets." Morgan took a large and teasing step back and away from Walter. "Last one home has to wash the pot?" Before Walter even had a chance to answer, Morgan broke into a sprint away from Walter who hurried after the boy and back towards their villa.
The freezer stood out brightly against the black backdrop of the room. The entirety of it was made up of glass. The glass was fogged and frosted, painted with delicate patterns of ice. Something was in the very center. Something dark and tall, not touching the floor.
He swallowed at the lump in his throat that seemed to be growing and cutting off his air supply. He licked his lips, willing his heart to slow, to relax. But he couldn't bring himself to as the dark form swung as if pushed by a nonexistent breeze. A metal chain from the ceiling creaked and there was something so much more unsettling by how dazzlingly clean the chain was rather than how rusted and dirty he felt like it needed to be.
Before he could stop himself, he stepped towards the freezer door, reaching a hand out towards the frigid glass. With a single push, it opened up for him, swinging back to paint a far more vivid picture than he had ever wanted to see.
A woman hung from a large and imposing meat hook driven through her shoulder. Her winter clothes were stained red, but not from where the metal pierced skin. It was a bit lower and around her heart.
Her skin was blue, her lips purple and she shivered. Still alive. Her breath flittered about her like a snow flurry. Her dirty blond hair fell in curtains around her face, and it wasn't until he took a step closer that her head jolted up and he was met with frozen blue eyes and color drained hollowed cheeks.
"Mom?" There was no recognition in her eyes as they looked over her son. He rushed forward and took her icy hands in his, trying to find something, anything to help. "I'll get you down."
"He's behind you now."
His blood turned to slush at the words from the woman, her voice hoarse from the cold. He didn't dare turn. He knew what he would find.
"He's behind you now."
A strong grip snatched up Walter's shoulder and he nearly screamed, his hand shooting out in front of him to protect himself from the monster that grabbed him. There was a muffled cry and the grip on Walter disappeared.
Walter sat up, cold sweat running down his spine and making him shiver as he tried to catch his breath. His head dropped into his hands, and he did his best to push the picture of his frozen mother from his mind's eyes.
There was a whimper and Walter looked up to find Morgan clutching to his face, hands dripping blood. Walter's eyes widened, his heart rocketing once more through his chest like he had taken a shot of adrenaline.
"I'm sorry," he whispered quickly, ripping the tangled sheets from his body and getting from the bed. "I didn't mean-I'm sorry."
"'urts," Morgan said through his hands, tears running down his cheeks.
"Let's clean you up. I'm sorry."
"I's 'lright."
Walter guided Morgan from the bedroom and to the bathroom across the hall, flicking on the light and getting to work to help stop the bloody nose. Crimson had marked their trail through the hall and was puddling on the floor of the bathroom as Morgan pressed toilet paper to his nose, the paper annoyingly getting stuck to some of the drying blood on his fingers.
"Are you ok Wally?" Morgan questioned when he saw the way Walter's hands shook as he wet down a rag to start cleaning up the mess.
"Fine," he excused, trembling fingers struggling to turn off the facet. "Just fine."
"Was it your mom again?" Walter's hands froze and he looked over at Morgan who had the same ice blue in his eyes that his mother had as she hung frozen there. "You don't have to tell me if you-"
"That room," Walter whispered, causing Morgan to fall silent. "That room that I wouldn't let you in. I can't stop dreaming of that room."
"What room?" Morgan rubbed at his nose and reached for some new toilet paper to apply to his still flowing injury.
"Father's room." Walter ringed out the rag and turned to Morgan, taking one of his hands and beginning to clean it. "In Germany. It..."
"Was it that bad?"
Walter licked his lips with a deep inhale and plastered a smile over his lips with a shake of his head. "No. Forget I said anything about it." Walter's other hand ruffled Morgan's hair. "I'm just glad you don't get nightmares anymore."
Morgan: Age 8
Walter: Age 15
"Hey Einstein," Walter called as he stepped into the kitchen for breakfast, messing up the boy's hair that had been gelled down into perfection. Morgan hissed and hit away Walter's hand, returning his attention to his book where he sat at the small breakfast table.
"You're up earlier than normal," Will commented from where he was working at the coffee press. "School doesn't start-"
"I'm going out for breakfast," Walter answered, taking the cup of coffee that Will held out to him and adding a single cube of sugar to it.
"Out?" Hannibal turned from where he was positioned at the stove, frying pan on with eggs and bacon sizzling away in it. "We didn't-"
"Last minute," Walter excused with a shrug.
Morgan looked up from his book with a confused questioning expression. Walter just shot the younger kid a smile before sipping down a gulp of far too hot coffee. Walter winced and Morgan couldn't help but give a small snort of laughter at the pain before his eyes once more dropped to his book, something that looked almost as big as the boy.
"Mangustėli," Hannibal scolded lightly. "You know that you're supposed to discuss-"
"I'm nearly sixteen. Can't I make my own choices by now?" Walter groaned, setting his cup aside with a roll of his eyes.
"You're going with Mia, aren't you?" Morgan questioned, though he didn't meet the dark gaze that came from Walter at the question.
"Mia?" Will asked with a hint of a tease to his tone. He stepped over to Hannibal and held out Hannibal's cup of coffee. Hannibal took it, though his attention was fully on Walter. "Who is Mia?"
"No one," Walter grumbled, hurriedly hiding his face back into his coffee.
"His girlfriend," Morgan replied boredly. "He's wearing enough cologne to put a perfume shop to shame."
"How on earth can you smell-"
"If you're going on a date, I would suggest toning it down," Hannibal offered as he plated the breakfast that he had made now for one less person. "I didn't want to comment on the excessiveness of the scent, but your brother is right."
"Not my brother," Walter hissed tightly, setting his empty cup aside and racing back for the stairs.
"A dab of rubbing alcohol should do the trick," Hannibal called after the teen as he placed Morgan's plate in front of him. "No reading during meals Morgan." He kindly reached out and caressed the boy's face. "You can expand your mind outside of mealtime. Mealtime is for the family."
"Then why does Wally get to leave?" Morgan complained, setting the book aside. There was something annoying with the way Walter always got away with anything and everything he wanted. First it was swearing and then it was going to school and playing sports and now it was girls. It made Morgan's insides squirm, though he wasn't sure if it was with jealousy or not.
"Because he is older," Will explained, sitting beside Morgan at the breakfast nook with his own cup of coffee and a plate of food. "When you are old enough to start dating, we can discuss you going out to breakfast."
"What happened with Gianna?" Hannibal took his own seat beside Will and reached for the butter to add to his slice of toast.
"Was she before or after Stella?" Will asked.
"After Stella, before Francesca," Morgan muttered.
"But I thought Bianca was the last-"
"She was before Alessandra," Hannibal supplied. "But he went out with Gianna again, so what happened to her?"
Morgan shrugged as he crunched on some bacon. "Wally said that she spoke funny. Stopped speaking to her."
"Did he?" Will frowned.
"Rude," Hannibal added, pushing his cup of coffee in front of Morgan. Morgan's brows tipped up curiously at the gesture. "We will have to discuss that when he comes home."
Loud footsteps bounded down the stairs and Walter swung back into the kitchen with his backpack over his shoulder and smelling more appropriately than before. He moved around the tiny table, giving Will a half hug and then Hannibal before once more messing up Morgan's hair.
"Wally!" Morgan complained loudly, hands rushing to his head to fix the disarray before returning back to the table. "Stop that."
"I'll be back after school," Walter explained to his parents before leaning over to Morgan's ear. "Snitches get stitches," he whispered, calling Morgan's surprised eyes to him. "Remember that, Einstein." He ruffled Morgan's hair again and raced from the house. "Bye!"
"Have a good day!" Will called after the teen before turning his attention back to Morgan who was fixing his hair agitatedly. "After breakfast you and I are going to be going out on the boat."
Morgan frowned, worrying at his lip with his teeth and effectively tearing at the skin. It wasn't a large habit, but Morgan had taken to doing it whenever water was mentioned in the slightest and he tried to ignore the disproving look that Hannibal gave him. It was clear that Hannibal found the habit nasty, having said as much in an attempt to help Morgan break from it, but it did nothing but make Morgan more self-conscious about it.
Hannibal had said that it was due to anxiety, whatever that meant. Morgan wasn't fully certain he knew the definition of the word but he had read enough books that he was certain he understood the feeling of the word. He assumed that it was the scared feeling he got when he came close to bodies of water any larger than a bathtub.
"You have to learn, kleiner hase," Hannibal said in a gentle tone, but Morgan didn't look up, just grabbed his fork and cut into his egg, watching as the yolk ran over his plate. "International waters are safe and-"
"I know," Morgan whispered with a small nod. "I know."
"Have a drink." Hannibal motioned to the cup of coffee. Morgan straightened up curiously and eyed Hannibal carefully before looking at a confused Will. Obviously, they hadn't discussed allowing Morgan to drink coffee. "It's black. You might want to add some sugar or cream. It's a touch bitter."
Morgan reached out to the cup and pulled the steaming mug to himself, looking at the dark liquid in it for a moment before reaching out to the small cream dish on the table. He was about to pour it in when a type of residue on the cup caught his eye. Hannibal would never allow there to be a dirty dish in this house.
"I think I'd rather you drink it," Morgan announced, trying to catch Hannibal's eyes, but the man was busying himself with getting some food on his fork. "Or maybe you should, Dad." Morgan pushed the mug across the table and towards Will, who tipped his head, reaching out for the coffee. Hannibal didn't react. "Drink it."
"I thought that you would be excited to have a big boy drink, kleiner hase," Hannibal taunted, though it was light in his voice. He took a bite of food and set his fork and knife aside. "Why are you being so cruel to your dad?"
"Drink it," Morgan pushed once more, reaching out for his own slice of toast and taking a bite of it happily. "I don't think I'd like it much. I might stick with tea for a few more years."
"What's wrong with it?" Will asked, placing the cup back towards the middle of the table.
"I don't think even the bitterness of coffee would disguise the taste as well as you might think," Morgan answered, finally able to meet Hannibal's eyes that were shining a bit behind a smirk. "And I doubt that something as thin as coffee would be able to hide the texture. Dissolved pills leave behind a chalky residue on your tongue."
"Pills?" Hannibal asked innocently.
"This isn't your first time attempting to poison someone, Father." Morgan finished off his plate with a small smile. "You know how many painkillers it takes to disable or kill someone. You might make me sick and maybe you could finish the job manually, but even I would take quite a bit of pills to take down now. You'd be better off getting Dad sick with the amount that is bound to be in that single cup." Morgan got from the table and took his dishes to the sink, washing them off and putting them in the dishwasher before moving back to the table to snatch up his book. "Call me when you're ready to leave. Love you." Morgan pressed a kiss to Will and Hannibal's cheeks in turn before heading for the stairs and disappearing up them.
"They're getting good," Will sighed, hiding his face in his hands.
"Are you feeling guilty?" Hannibal asked softly as he turned in his chair to better face Will. Will looked back up with a smile.
"Proud."
"I can't believe you still have that thing," Walter muttered as Morgan entered his room that night, the rabbit that Will had given him held tightly in his grip. Walter was going to return his thoughts to his homework when there was a sniffle behind him and he turned fully in his desk chair to see the young boy clutching the rabbit to his chest in the very same way that he had on the airplane their first night as a new family. Those big blue eyes were teary and Morgan's bottom lip was pulled between his teeth and being chewed. "What's wrong?"
Morgan shook his head and hid his face in the rabbit that was flattened out from how often it was held. Walter sighed and set his pencil down, getting from his desk chair and stepping over to where Morgan stood. He knelt down in front of the kid and took his shoulders protectively.
"They had you go out on the boat again, didn't they?" Morgan nodded, but didn't look up, sniffling once more though it was muffled. "You can say no." Morgan shook his head, no argument on his tongue. "They won't make you if you say no." Another shake of a young head. "Ok, ok. Come here," Walter whispered, scooping Morgan up into his arms. He stepped over to the bed and rested Morgan on it. "I have a surprise, but you need to make sure that this stays between us. We can't let Father know, alright?"
Morgan's head popped up curiously, hands still trembling as they clutched to the bunny. He waited as Walter went to his closet and began to dig through it. It took a moment or two before Walter finally returned with a laptop. He opened the lid and Morgan's eyes widened.
"Where did you get this?"
"Giovanni gave it to me," Walter explained and Morgan nodded in understanding. Giovanni and Walter had become good friends after meeting at school. It was around the time that Walter and Morgan had been buried alive, if Morgan was remembering correctly. He had only seen Giovanni a few times, Walter not liking to bring his friends home. He preferred to disappear for hours at a time at Giovanni's home instead, leaving Morgan alone even more. "We're going to watch something that even you would enjoy. It's called Casablanca."
"A movie?"
The word was so foreign sounding coming from Morgan that Walter paused and looked at the young boy. "Even you know what those are, Einstein. Come on." Walter reached out and went to ruffle the boy's hair, but stopped, simply patting his head instead. Walter sat back on the bed, groaning when Morgan sat himself on Walter's lap at a very uncomfortable angle. Walter adjusted them with a wince, allowing the kid to burrow against him as the movie began.
Morgan was silent through the movie, so quiet that at some point Walter thought that Morgan had fallen asleep. But when Walter glanced down, he found Morgan still holding to that damn rabbit with his lip between his teeth. At the taste of copper, Morgan let his lip fall from his teeth and his hand went to it to stop the run of red over his chin. His lip stung brightly and he sighed.
"What the hell, Einstein?" Walter scolded, reaching over to his bedside table for a tissue, pressing it to Morgan's lip. "Keep that there." Morgan obeyed and Walter stopped the movie, getting from the bed and disappearing into the hall, leaving Morgan alone and staring at the black and white image on the screen. Soon, Walter returned with a first aid kit and sat on the edge of the bed, digging through it until he found disinfectant and ripped open the small package. "Why do you keep doing this? You need to stop," Walter grumbled as he pressed the alcohol wipe to Morgan's lip to clean it. Morgan winced, eyes scrunching closed at the sharpness the alcohol shot through his lip. "No one is going to want to kiss you when you grow up if you keep chewing on your lip."
"Kiss me?" Morgan asked, confused at the prospect. He had seen his moms kiss every now and then and had seen Will and Hannibal kiss but had never once considered the possibility that someone would ever kiss him.
Walter nodded and lowered the wipe, reaching for some gauze and pressing it to Morgan's mouth. "Hold that there," he instructed. Morgan obeyed, holding the gauze in place while Walter cleaned up the first aid kit. "Stop making your lip bleed." Walter set the first aid kit aside and got to his feet, digging through his dresser until he pulled out a t-shirt, tossing it to Morgan. "Put that on. We need to soak your shirt."
"How do you know that?" Morgan asked, curiosity pulling at him as he tried to pull his shirt over his head without letting more blood fall from his lip.
"My mom showed me," Walter replied, something quiet in his tone. "I got a bloody nose once and I thought it ruined one of my favorite shirts."
Morgan gave a defeated sigh, shirt tangled around his head. He let the gauze go and set it on the bedside table and pulled his shirt off to pull on Walter's. It hung awkwardly on his body, far too big for his slim size, falling off one shoulder. He snatched back up the gauze and watched as Walter took the discarded shirt from the room and to the bathroom across the hall. The water ran for a moment before Walter returned to the room.
"Are you ok?" Walter asked as he added the damp shirt to his hamper. He moved back over to the bed and pulled at the gauze from Morgan's lip to look over it. "Keep the pressure," Walter said in a soft tone before climbing back onto the bed, letting Morgan climb back onto his lap to begin the movie again.
Morgan: Age 9
Walter: Age 16
Morgan gasped, coughing as his back hit one of the blue matts, knocking the air from his lungs. He struggled to inhale, curling up on his side when Walter unpinned him. Walter was breathing deeply as he fell onto his back beside Morgan with a chuckle.
"Good, Walter," Hannibal praised from the edge of the mats. "Breathe Morgan."
"Best three out of five?" Walter teased, patting the gasping Morgan on the shoulder before getting to his feet.
Morgan closed his eyes, finally able to catch a breath. Tears pricked his eyes and he curled up on himself a little further at the dull ache that was carving each and every bone in his body. There was a gentle touch to his shoulder and he looked up at Will who held out a water bottle to him. Morgan sat up and took it, taking a drink, the cool water relieving a bit of his cottonmouth.
"Morgan," Will whispered so softly that Morgan wasn't even sure he had heard him at all. "I've told you this before. Walter is bigger than you. Anyone who comes after us will be bigger than you and will not hold back like your brother does. You can't depend on strength to help you."
Morgan passed back the water bottle and wiped at the water that dripped down his chin. "Play dirty," he muttered.
"Play dirty," Will agreed with a nod. "He might have the brawn, but you have the brains." Will tapped Morgan's forehead and smiled at Morgan's look of dislike. "Use it."
"Come on, Einstein," Walter called from across the room. "I've got to get to practice in a few."
"Take him down." With those final words, Will got back to his feet and returned to Hannibal's side, the bottle set aside. Will folded his arms over his chest with a small snort as he watched the two boys set up for another go.
"What are you so smug about?" Hannibal asked, glancing at Will for a moment before looking back at the boys.
"If Morgan wins this round then you take us out for dinner tonight," Will bargained.
"Where to?"
"McDonalds." There was a slight pause to Hannibal's answer and Will smiled brightly as he took in Hannibal's calculating expression. "Are you scared?"
"You know something that I don't know," Hannibal mused thoughtfully, a hand rubbing at his chin. "What did you tell him?"
"Size is not an advantage."
"If Walter wins, you have to go to the gala this weekend with me in that suit I had made for you."
Will's face twisted into dislike as he thought over the suit that had been gifted to him. He had given in and started wearing things a bit more on the dressier side, but if he had to wear something with deep emerald paisley on it, he would surely die.
"Deal," he finally agreed, watching as Morgan dove down towards Walter's legs, wrapping himself around the teen's ankles.
"What the hell?" Walter asked with a laugh, bending over to grab at Morgan. "Let go."
"No," Morgan said with a shake of his head, tightening his grip.
"How many times could I have shot or stabbed you by now?" Walter tugged at the child. "This is ridiculous. You'd be dead." With a tug of one of his legs, Walter broke Morgan's grip and pulled Morgan from the ground and up over his shoulder like a sack of flour. "Knock it off."
Morgan glanced around. Will was right, he was no match for Walter. He was smaller, weaker. He couldn't possibly take Walter down by any means other than playing dirty. He had to use his surroundings and whatever he had in reach as a weapon and at the moment that wasn't much, but it would do.
With quick hands, Morgan snatched up the back of Walter's shirt, pulling at it until the collar went tight around Walter's neck. It hurt his knuckles with how harshly he pulled it and he could immediately feel Walter's body jerk at the action. Walter gagged and Morgan only pulled it tighter.
"Let go," Morgan ordered.
"This is s-stupid," Walter hissed out hoarsely with a shake of his head.
Morgan choked up on the shirt and felt Walter's body bend and his knees go weak. "Let me go, Wally. Now."
Walter dropped down to his knees and released Morgan, who in turn let go of Walter's shirt that was now wrinkled with how tightly he had had a grip on it. As soon as Walter was free, he coughed and sputtered for air, a hand going to his throat, the other on the floor to keep him upright.
"Best five out of seven?"
"Shut up."
"Walter, when you get home from practice, we'll go out for dinner," Will announced, shooting Hannibal a smile.
Morgan winced and looked up from the book he was reading at an incorrect chord on the piano. Walter's face was screwed up in something between concentration and frustration and he leaned closer to the sheet music as if he couldn't see it from where he had been sitting.
"It's an E double sharp," Hannibal's voice called from somewhere in the kitchen and Morgan could only watch as Walter rolled his eyes so hard that they almost fell from his head.
"Fucking E double sharp my ass," Walter hissed through his teeth. "Why the fuck are there even E sharps? E double sharp. Why not just write F sharp? It's not that hard. That's a stupid fucking ass note."
"Language," Hannibal's voice warned, causing Morgan to smile with a small snort of laughter.
Walter's gaze shot over the sheet music and to Morgan who swiftly hid behind his book. "You think this is funny? Why don't you come over here and try to play this shit?"
"I don't know how to," Morgan answered, voice muffled from the book. "Father won't let me take lessons yet. You know that."
"Let you take lessons." Walter's gaze returned to the music and he frowned. "More like forces you." He started the section once more and at the same spot missed the same note. With a growl, he slammed his hands down onto the keyboard, making a loud clash of tones ring out and Morgan could hear the knife in the kitchen come to a sudden halt.
"We do not take out our violent emotions on the musical instruments, Walter. Would it help if I came and showed you how-"
"No!" Walter groaned, letting his head fall onto the opened lid of the piano. "No, it wouldn't."
"I thought it sounded pretty, Wally," Morgan offered, keeping himself still hidden behind his book.
There was a deep sigh and Walter slowly sat upright, meeting Morgan's gaze. "Thanks kid."
Morgan's smile was bright and genuine, and he snuggled back down into the couch with his book to listen to Walter practice. "Welcome."
Morgan: Age 10
Walter: Age 17
"Would you go to sleep please?" Walter grumbled as Morgan continued to toss and turn. "I'm going to make you go back to your bed if you don't knock it off."
"You say that every night," Morgan contradicted.
"I mean it. You're too old to be doing this anymore. We're not kids."
"I am."
"I'm not." The words were a hiss and Walter turned his back on the boy, leaving Morgan with the oddness of the conversation being ended rather swiftly. "Shut up and sleep."
"But it feels like someone's watching me."
Walter groaned and flopped onto his back, rubbing at his eyes. "Do you have anatidaephobia or something?"
Morgan huffed and folded his arms over his chest, turning away from Walter. "Ducks don't scare me."
"Morgan," Walter groaned. "Please. I have a test tomorrow and Father is going to have my ass if I fail this one. Please just sleep."
"But it really does feel like someone is watching me," Morgan argued in a whine.
"Like the monster under the bed? Do you need me to check the closet?"
"I'm not four."
"No, but you're acting like it," Walter shot back, sitting up in bed. "Why do you feel like someone is watching you?"
"I think I keep seeing the same man hanging around the house or outside your school or the soccer fields. He follows us around." Morgan turned back to look over Walter's face in the dim room, a bored expression meeting him. "I'm serious, Wally! He kept walking back and forth behind me at your last game."
"That's it. You're going back to your room. I can't do it tonight."
Morgan shot up in bed, shaking his head. "No. He sits outside my window. I don't like it, Wally."
"Your window..." Walter muttered softly, eyes darting to the closed door and in the direction of Morgan's room. "How long has this been going on?"
"I noticed him a game or two ago. He doesn't have kids playing and he never seems to be there for anyone, but he hangs close to us. Have you not noticed?"
"I try to ignore things like that. It makes a bigger mess than there needs to be," Walter explained as he pushed the blanket off him. Walter carefully climbed over the top of Morgan and went for the door. "Stay here."
Walter left the room and sighed with a roll of his eyes. He tried to look back through his mind to see if he could place one singular person that kept popping up in his day-to-day life outside of the ordinary and normal, but he couldn't exactly place anything abnormal happening. Nothing was out of place.
Walter pushed open the door to Morgan's room, looking over the cleanliness with a frown. He could never keep his room as immaculate as Morgan could, but he supposed that he had been sharing his room since he had met Morgan, so it only made sense that the up tight little snot was able to keep everything tidy.
Walter didn't dare turn on the light, but he stepped through the room and to the window that looked out and over the canal, ready to dismiss whatever the scaredy cat thought was there, but he stopped. Bobbing in the canal sat a boat. It was small with an engine that wouldn't be too horribly loud to start up if it needed to. Inside of the boat sat a man.
The moon was bright enough to highlight the man's face, but it only cast that much more of him into shadow. Walter's eyes narrowed as he tried to make out more details of the man, while keeping his distance from the window to make sure he wasn't seen.
White, late 40's, dark hair that had a bit of a wave to it that reminded Walter of Morgan's when Morgan's got a little too long. His cheekbones and nose were well defined and sharp, something even that much more familiar in them, though he couldn't place what it was.
It felt like something deeper than the idea of the man sticking out due to Walter being tailed day in and day out. It was too dark for Walter to place the man anywhere in the background of his memories, but that didn't mean that he wasn't there.
Walter wanted to study the man a bit longer, but when he turned and Walter felt like their eyes met, Walter stepped back and out of the room, his heart pounding up into his throat. He inhaled deeply to catch his breath that had become suddenly short, and he made his way back to his room.
"Come with me," he instructed Morgan, who confusedly obeyed. He came into the hall and Walter took his shoulder, guiding him down the hall and towards the back end of the hallway.
"What are you doing?" Morgan asked when they finally came to stand outside of their parent's room. "We're not supposed to-" Morgan broke off when Walter knocked on the door and he stepped slightly behind Walter. "They're going to get mad."
"No, they won't," Walter assured softly. "You have to tell them."
"But I could be imagining it, Wally."
"You're not imagining it," Walter assured.
Will's eyes opened at a light knocking on their bedroom door. He nearly went back to sleep with how soft the sound had been, but Hannibal's movement brought him back to the surface.
"Can you answer the door?" Hannibal's sleepy voice asked through the darkness. Will shivered as a kiss was pressed to the back of his bare shoulder. "I need to get dressed."
Will groaned with a small nod and a yawn, pushing himself up from the bed. He ran his fingers through his tangled curls and then scratched at his beard that was beginning to grow in a little too much and needed to be trimmed. He opened the door and looked down on his children, one much taller than the other, the smaller one hidden behind the older, who was straightening himself up a bit.
"Dad, Morgan needs to tell you something," Walter announced, sounding far more awake than Will was.
"It can wait until morning-"
"It can't wait until morning," Walter pushed, reaching down to pull Morgan in front of him. "You need to tell them."
"Tell us what?" Will asked, voice gravely with sleep. He glanced once more between the boys and then over his shoulder to where Hannibal was now fully clothed with no evidence of their sexcapades from earlier that night. Will pushed the door fully open and stepped out of the way, causing both boys to look over him curiously as if they couldn't believe they were allowed inside of the room. Maybe they had been too strict with the boys. "Sit on the bed," Will instructed.
Walter and Morgan stepped into the room and Morgan seemed to hesitate. Hannibal flicked on a lamp and Will reached out, taking Morgan's shoulder in reassurance.
"You're not mad that we woke you up?" Morgan asked in a small voice.
"You would only come to us if it were important and couldn't wait," Will assured, pushing Morgan kindly towards the bed in the center of the room. Hannibal sat on the edge of the bed and patted it, giving Morgan enough encouragement that the child climbed up and next to Hannibal. "What's wrong Morgan?"
When there wasn't an answer, Walter gave an annoyed little breath and Will did his best to warn his oldest with a look. Walter's temper was shorter than even Will's was. Walter's fuse was not only short, but constantly alight and would be used up in an instant if anything too good happened.
"Tell them, Einstein. Come on," Walter pushed, folding his arms over his chest. Morgan glanced around the group and Will did his best not to cling to the discomfort from the child. Morgan would tell them everything, he didn't have to dig, didn't have to feel if he didn't want to. So he stayed back, allowing Morgan to speak.
"A man has been following me," Morgan muttered softly. "Or us, I guess."
"Is that true?" Hannibal asked, voice serious as he met Walter's gaze. "You didn't say anything about this."
"I didn't know it was happening," Walter defended. "He's outside the house now though. He's been hanging outside of Morgan's bedroom window in a boat."
"How long?" Will pushed, his body now fully awake. It was happening again. Their small comfort was going to come crashing down around them and Will let out a breath at the idea. They had been here happily for years, but it was only bound to be a faux comfort. Will should have known better than to think that they could stay here happily.
"A few weeks," Morgan whispered. "Around the house. When Walter and I go to games or practices. When we go to the market."
"Do you know him?" Morgan looked at Hannibal as he answered with a shake of his head. Hannibal got to his feet and moved towards the bedroom door. "And he's outside now?"
"He was before we came to speak to you, but he might have seen me," Walter further explained. "But I don't recognize him."
"You two stay here," the killer instructed, hand resting on the door handle to the bedroom. "I will handle this."
"Do we need to leave?" Morgan asked, getting down from the bed. "I don't want to move again."
"We can be packed and ready to leave in thirty," Walter contracted easily with determination that had Hannibal smiling lightly.
"Let's not be so hasty." Hannibal opened the bedroom door and stepped out into the hall. Will bit his bottom lip and followed Hannibal.
"Do you think it's wise to confront him?"
"If we don't, how are we to know what he wants?" Hannibal paused in the hall and looked back at Will and then over Will's shoulder to where his sons were hanging out through the bedroom door to listen. "I just want to see if he's still there. See if we know him. We'll go from there."
Before Will could contradict, Hannibal was stepping into Morgan's room. Will followed and looked towards the window that's curtain was pulled all the way up. Indeed, there was a man in a boat down below in the canal. Will's head tipped to the side and he frowned, taking in the features on the man that he could make out in the darkness.
There was something familiar about the man, though Will couldn't exactly place it. Something from so very long ago. Something that could have very well been a dream with how absolutely fuzzy it was. He shared a glance with Hannibal who raised his brows knowingly, staying silent and allowing Will to connect the dots that he needed to.
He had been in pain. Will knew that much. His thumb ached and he wore fabric that was itchy and did nothing to keep the winter cold out. It was orange. The house he was in was as cold and pretty as Hannibal's had been, but maybe that was how all doctor's liked to decorate. He had walked around the house he had never once been invited to, and he did his best not to think of himself as a creep. But he needed help and he didn't want to get help from Hannibal unless he absolutely needed to. At the time, he hadn't exactly trusted Hannibal, but he hadn't been quite sure why.
There was a picture on the mantle in the living room over the cold fireplace. Alana with a man. They stood close, though Will knew they weren't together. There was love there, but not a romantic love.
And then Alana had come home and brought all of Will's pack with her. And then tried to get Will caught by sending a signal to officer's watching her home with her car fob. Will had left then and returned to Hannibal, the only person crazy enough to give him what he needed and wanted.
"There was a picture of him," Will whispered. "In Alana's house. She was with him. I knew she had a brother. They look similar."
"Revenge?" Hannibal asked curiously at the new information given to him.
"I..." Will licked his lips and turned his head to the side, watching as they man lifted a phone up, most likely taking pictures of their villa. Though, Will wasn't sure why he would need pictures if he had been following the boys around for as long as Morgan claimed he had. "I'm not sure."