Hello~ Just a quick message to say that the next chapter may be slow in coming, as I need to catch up on my other ongoing fic.
Thank you for reading, please Review~
Will got out of his car, his hair and appearance scruffier than usual. Grabbing his bag he locked the car behind him and trudged un-enthusiastically up the drive to Hannibals house.
"Excuse me, you're Will Graham aren't you."
Will stopped as a woman with red curly hair walked up to him, a small smile across her lips and what looked like a recorder in her hand.
"And if I am?" He asked, looking her over with his heavy eyes from lack of sleep.
"Freddie Lounds, I write the tattle crime section of the tattler. I was wondering if I could have a word or two with you."
Will frowned, he'd heard all about the infamous miss Lounds, he wasn't about to let himself get pulled into her pretentious bullshit.
"No, now if you please, could you remove yourself from this property." He turned away from her and briskly walked up the steps to the front door.
"Is it true you dropped out of university because you were unstable Mr Graham? Should you really be working with the entertainment industry when you could turn any minute?" Lounds called after him.
Ignoring her he went inside and closed the door quickly behind himself, he couldn't believe this. He'd only been pulled in for questioning and already he had a reporter on his back.
He stood there for a few seconds to calm himself slightly before heading through the house to the kitchen, where everyone was setting up.
The atmosphere was awkward, he didn't like it but he chose to ignore it as he headed to his usual corner, placing his bag on the table there.
"You came today then?" Beverly placed a coffee down in front of him and perched herself on the table.
"I'm not sick, there was no reason for me to miss work. I have bills to pay." He said, picking up the coffee and taking a sip.
"Well firstly, you look terrible and secondly your childhood friend has just been killed." She frowned at him. "I would think that's enough to take compassionate leave for a week or two at least."
Will didn't answer her, he continued to sip his coffee and scan through todays schedule. He hoped to god the coffee would wake him up at least a little, he had a jam packed day.
"You're blanking me out aren't you?" Bev looked at him unimpressed and grabbed the planner out of his hands.
"I was concentrating on work." He made a grab for the planner but she moved it out of the way quickly. His reflexes were slow and clumsy today, he noticed.
"I hope you're not bullying my manager miss Katz." Hannibal's smooth voice came from behind her, his hand taking the planner from hers.
He placed the planner on the table and looked over Will, pursing his lips slightly.
"Could you leave us a minute, please." He looked at Beverly, earning a nod from her before she got up and moved off somewhere else hastily.
Will knew what was coming. Leaning against the table he drank from his coffee mug again, not looking at the other man; waiting for his lecture.
"I thought I told you not to come in today when I dropped you off at home last night, Will."
Hannibal's shadow seemed to tower over Wills tired form as he stood there.
"It's far too early for you to return after such a tragedy, and it's obvious to anyone that looks at you, how tired you are."
"I can't just sit at home." Will spoke before Hannibal said anymore, though he still avoided looking at him.
"I feel like I'll go crazy if I sit at home on my own for too long. At least at work I can keep my mind on other things."
Hannibal stood in quiet for a second, thinking things over.
"So be it...But if I think you can't cope, you're going home and staying home." Turning he started to walk away, halting slightly to say "and I'm driving, I don't trust you behind the wheel."
The alley seemed to stretch for miles, no matter how long he ran along it; stones and glass cutting his bare feet.
Panting heavily he started to slow down, the cuts on his feet burning as if an acid was licking at them.
The shadows crept along the walls and swallowed him whole, the darkness gripping onto his arms, clawing at him. He could hear them whisper, a soft mumble in the back of his mind.
And in a split second, it was all gone. He was standing alone, in the middle of a field. He could hear the sound of the ocean rolling over the sand, the sound of gulls squawking and the wind rolling over the soft grass.
It was idyllic, picturesque and a million miles from the nightmare that had encased him mere moments ago.
Walking forward, he found himself breathing in the salty air and calming down. His heart stopped pounding and his eyes adjusted to the sudden light.
As he walked, he got a knot in his stomach through fear and worry. How had he come from the darkness to here?
As he jogged up to the top of the hill, he realised he was still very much in the nightmare. The idyllic ocean was not that; it was a sea of blood and dismembered bodies. A hand here, a foot there, it rolled over the sand and onto the beach.
As he leaned over, he vomited, a cocktail of booze and blood, straight into the palm of his hands. He closed his eyes, praying that he could awaken from this nightmare, be away from the pain, but as he opened his eyes blood began to seep through his hands.
With one vicious movement, he released the neck of the woman he was gripping on to. They were alone, she had cried.
The mascara that had been so perfectly applied moments ago was now a running down her face. Her black dress that had been so carefully ironed for the night out in Clarice's was crumpled, filthy.
"Will…" she cried, "No…" With sheer horror, he realised he was squeezing the life out of his dear childhood friend, Abigail.
As she fell to the floor, her breathing slowed and just as quickly ceased. When he looked up, they were no longer at the picturesque beach, they were surrounded by trees and a thick fog.
He could see car lights up ahead and stumbled towards them, hoping to catch their attention, hoping that they could save her.
"Please stop…" he cried, "please…" The car didn't stop, the headlights blinding him as they grew closer.
He gasped as the car was about to collide with him and awoke with a start. Panicking he jumped out of bed and looked around himself.
"It's home, you're home. It was just a nightmare, none of it was real." He panted to himself as he slowly started to calm down.
Realising he was soaked with sweat he stripped himself of his clothing, and the bed sheets; throwing them all into the laundry hamper.
Grabbing some clean boxers and a t-shirt he dressed and grabbed a couple of blankets, going down to the living room and making up a bed on the sofa.
He didn't think he'd get anymore sleep that night, the nightmare was still fresh in his mind.
"Morning." Will mumbled as he walked into work the next morning, he looked a lot worse than the previous day. He was so tired and oblivious he didn't notice some of the crew looking at him cautiously, and whispering to each other.
"Will, should you really be here?" Brian stopped him, speaking in a low hushed tone.
"I had a lecture from two people yesterday, I don't need another." Will replied, dropping his bag onto the table in his corner.
"It's not that…Have you not seen the paper?" Brian spoke again in that hushed tone, confusing Will.
"Paper? Which one?" Taking some pain killers from the pocket on his bag, he took a couple before putting the bottle back, turning to Brian.
"I was afraid you hadn't…Hey Jimmy, gimme that paper." Brian called across the room, earning some concerned stares from people.
When it was handed to him, Will made a face of displeasure; the tattler wasn't his favourite paper.
"Turn to the sixth page…" Brian said, standing next to him; watching.
Complying, Will flicked through the pages until he landed on the sixth page. The page was titled "Tattlecrime" and underneath "People that the police let get away."
He wasn't going to read it at all, but he noticed the photograph of himself that had been taken without his knowing; standing completely still, he continued to read on.
He couldn't believe what he was reading, best ripper suspect they'd had yet, dropped out of uni because he was mentally unstable and he'd apparently confirmed this the other day? She'd even gone as far as to go into his childhood, mother dying when he was just a baby, his father bringing him up, the moving from town to town causing his anti-social behaviour.
Apparently this was all the makings of a serial killer. Lounds didn't know the first thing about serial killers, and knew nothing about him.
"I've never read so much rubbish in my life, does Lounds really have nothing better to do with her life than write falsities and trashy rumours?" He spat out, trying not to let his anger reach his voice.
He wanted nothing but to kill her, how dare she delve into his life like that, how dare she think that she knew him. Before he knew it he was remembering the nightmare from last night, how he'd drained the life out of Abigail.
Feeling a sudden rush of grief over him he started to rip the newspaper into pieces, a crazed and desperate attempt at erasing it.
"Will! Will Graham stop." He ignored the voice until his arms were grabbed, stilling his ripping frenzy.
"I understand you're angry but don't do this here." Hannibals low voice came from behind, his mouth near Wills' ear. "Come."
Will allowed himself to be steered out of the room, finding himself in the elaborately decorated study of Hannibal Lecter.
"You look worse than you did yesterday. Your hair is unbrushed, you're wearing the same clothes you wore yesterday and the bags under your eyes make you look sick." Hannibal moved Will to sit in the desk chair.
"Are you concerned for me, or insulting my fashion sense?" Will grumbled out, he felt like a fool. The scene he'd just caused would surely come back and bite him in the arse.
"Concerned of course, what kind of friend would I be if I wasn't?" Hannibal crouched down in front of him, looking up into Will's tired and worn face.
"Why don't you go up and use the spare room, I will personally rearrange my schedule for the next couple of days. I want you to rest."
"Are you telling me not to bother coming into work? Am I that much of a hinderance?" He knew he was overreacting just a little, but he also knew what he should be doing; he didn't need to be told by anyone else.
"No Will, I am telling you that you need time off to grieve." Hannibal calmly answered, placing a hand on Wills knee as if to reassure him.
"Now I insist you go up to one of the spare rooms and sleep for me."
Will didn't particularly want to, he'd rather work; but he had a feeling he couldn't win this argument.
Nodding in agreement he sighed slightly, Hannibal smiling and giving his knee a squeeze before standing again and straightening out his clothes.
Will had reluctantly made his way up the stairs, but found both spare bedrooms had been used as storage by the crew. Frowning and sighing he placed a hand on the doorknob of what he knew to be Hannibals room.
'Would it be rude to use his room?' He asked himself as he turned the handle and opened the door, staying stood in the doorway as he looked around the room.
He wasn't as surprised as he thought he'd be at the grand decor, he was slightly taken aback however, by the king sized four poster bed; it was most certainly the main feature of the room.
On one side of the room were built-in double wardrobes and a door to an en-suite, Hannibals bath robe hung casually on the door. The floor, he noted, was a dark solid wood, it matched the mahogany bed, and at the foot of the bed a large faux fur rug spread out; separating the colours.
Either side of the bed were side tables, both made from wood fitting with both the bed and floor. Lamps stood on both side tables, Tiffany he guessed, the green and gold colours of the lamps matching the green and gold patterned wall paper that adorned the one wall behind the bed; the other walls were just a green paint.
Running a hand over his face he walked into the room, he was too tired. He didn't care if he slept in someone elses bed. Besides, Hannibal was the one that insisted he rested.
Closing the door behind himself he looked at the bed. Noticing a small pile of books neatly stacked on one of the side tables, he guessed that was the side Lecter slept on and took the opposite side.
Taking his shoes and coat off, he placed them on, and next to, an armchair that stood in the corner. He hadn't noticed it when he was in the doorway.
He decided to sleep on top of the covers, not wanting to actually get in the bed.
The moment his head hit the pillow his body relaxed, it was amazing how good silk bed linen and a mattress as soft as a cloud could feel.
Within moments of laying down and getting comfy, sleep won and took over.
When Will woke, it was already dark out. Thumbling for his glasses on the side cabinet he put them on and sat up, noticing he'd had the covers put over him.
Putting his shoes on and grabbing his coat and bag he headed downstairs, the smell of food cooking hitting him as he descended.
Leaving his coat and bag on the hooks near the front door, he made his way to the kitchen. The house seemed so empty and quiet without the TV crew around, so much less cluttered and oppressive.
The soothing sound of soft sounding classical music pulled him from his thoughts as he reached the kitchen door, his eyes immediately locking onto the back of Hannibal as he cut something.
He'd never seen Hannibal cook in his own time and comfort before, the way he was working in this environment looked more like an art form than it did when he cooked for television.
"I hope you're feeling much better after your sleep, Will." Hannibal suddenly spoke.
Will jumped slightly in surprise "do you have eyes in the back of your head?" He asked, raising a brow and walking into the kitchen.
Hannibal turned and smiled a little "the fragrance you're wearing, it has a very…..unique smell."
Will frowned a little and sat at one of the bar stools, rolling his shoulders slightly as he resisted the urge to sniff at the collar of his shirt.
"I keep getting it for Christmas… And in answer to your earlier question, I feel alot better now, thank you." He managed a slight smile.
"Good, I decided against waking you and prepared dinner instead." Hannibal turned back to his chopping.
"You allowed me to sleep in your bed, I don't expect you to cook for me as well." Will shook his head, though he did admit that whatever was in the oven smelt mouth-wateringly good.
"You refused to eat with me yesterday, I would like you to grace me with your presence at least once. I enjoy cooking for others."
Will sighed a little, giving in. "Ok ok, I'll stay for dinner."
He was glad to see Will a little more lively, his lack of sleep and frantic episode earlier that day had worried him greatly.
Hannibal eyed Will as they ate opposite each other, it gave him great pleasure to watch as the younger male ate the person he'd been so very down about these past two days.
Drinking from his wine glass, he smiled a little; everything was slotting into it's place.
"Are you sure you won't have any wine?" Hannibal asked, placing his own wine glass back down.
"I'm sure, I need to drive home and I don't want to get stopped by the police… I've had enough of them for a while." Will made a face, obviously remembering his interview with Jack Crawford.
Hannibal sat back in his chair, Will getting arrested hadn't been in his plans. He'd thought the FBI had come for himself at first, he'd been ready to make his escape.
"I said you were welcome to stay a couple of nights, Will." Hannibal smiled once again "you did mention you'd seen someone sneaking around your house, am I right?"
Will didn't answer straight away, his brows instead bent into a frown.
"I did mention that, but I'm perfectly capable of looking after myself, Hannibal. Besides, I'm pretty sure it's just that woman… She wrote that article about me, she's most probably been stalking my home as well."
Hannibal pursed his lips a little, a slight bitter taste had taken over his mouth as he remembered the article. As much as he was interested in Will, and wanted to keep him away from others; he hated it when other people were credited for his work.
"She'll lose interest soon enough. She writes about criminals, and you are not a criminal Will." Hannibal stood, picking up both of the empty plates.
"Shall we discuss this further, over coffee in the living room? Just go through and wait for me, I shall bring us a cup."
Will checked his watch, it was 8:30 already but he decided against turning the coffee down and went through to the living room.
He'd only been in here once before, but like the rest of the house he felt like he didn't belong; the decor was so very grand.
Seating himself on the brown leather sofa he looked around, a small frown forming on his face as he noticed the lack of photographs. The only pictures that adorned the room were drawings and paintings, including a large portrait of a girl above the fireplace.
"Sorry to keep you waiting." Hannibal jerked Will out of his thoughts as he came into the room, placing a tray onto the small mahogany coffee table; two cups of coffee, each with a sprig of lavender sat in it.
Reading Wills unsure face Hannibal chuckled softly and sat next to him. "It is lavender coffee, I made it myself; I find it soothing after a long day."
Picking up a cup, he gave it to Will before taking his own and sliding back into his seat.
Both sat in silence, casually sipping at their coffee; Will continuing to look around the room.
"I hope you don't mind me saying… But I noticed you don't have any photographs in your living room, well, the whole house actually." Will finally spoke up, turning to look at Hannibal.
Hannibal didn't look back at him, just sat with his legs crossed and a straight, unreadable face.
"I do not have any, most were lost over the years or ended up destroyed one way or another."
Will found that odd but didn't ask anymore questions on the matter, he instead tried to change the subject.
"Did you paint these pictures?"
Hannibal flicked his eyes around the room, looking at the paintings. "All but one" he answered, pointing out a landscape he hadn't painted.
"You really are a man of many talents, I particularly like that one." He pointed at the portrait of the girl, her eyes reminded him of someone but he couldn't put his thumb on it.
"Should I make up a spare room for you? I think at least one of them is empty now." Hannibal turned to look at Will, smiling slightly.
Will was slightly thrown by the sudden change in topic. "… Wait, I said I was going home Hannibal."
"And I insist on you staying for at least a couple of nights, it will settle my worries about you."
Both of them looked at each other, Will allowing their eyes to meet, he felt like he was being sucked into them.
"Fine… Just two nights, no more than that." Will pulled his eyes away, letting them settle on the painting again.
'Ah… They're Hannibals eyes.' He thought to himself as he stared at it.
"Good, I shall get the guest room ready for you and in the morning we will go to yours together and pack the necessaries- If you like, I can lend you a pair of my pajamas." Hannibal stood, placing his cup back on the tray.
"No, thank you. I'll be fine, I don't wear much in bed...I find it uncomfortable." Will felt a little awkward telling Hannibal this, but they were both men, it was fine.
Hannibal looked Will up and down, smirking a little. "Very well, I will give you an extra blanket; wouldn't want you catching a cold."
Both headed upstairs, Hannibal showing Will to the room opposite his own. Despite being full with filming equipment and stuff earlier that day, the room was still tidy; spotless compared to his own bedroom.
Grabbing a spare blanket from the airing cupboard Hannibal gave it to Will. "Is there anything else you need?"
"I think I have everything, thank you." Will stood, blanket in arms, smiling.
"Then good night, Will. You know where I am if you need me." Hannibal returned the smile before backing out of the room and closing the door.