Will is greeted by Winston as soon as he walks in the door. He pats his head and offers no explanations as to where he's been for the last—he glances at his watch—six hours. He walks into the kitchen to grab something to eat.
After his small breakfast, Will sets about packing his things. He doesn't take much, just some clothing, towels and toiletries, and his laptop. He spends most of his time home gathering the stuff for all his dogs. He's finished by nine, but still has to get all the dogs into his little car. That could get interesting, Will thinks, and it'll be nothing short of an adventure.
"Who wants to go for a ride?" he asks, clapping his hands.
Winston is the only dog not wary of the offer; he runs to the front door wagging his tail. The others are still not excited about going places in the car. Will sighs and lets Winston out first, murmuring about what a good boy he is. When he gets back in, the others are still no closer to excited about a ride than they were.
"Ugh. For the love of God," Will groans. "Come on. Let's go for a ride. In the car."
He manages to round up all the dogs in just less than fifteen minutes—no small feat—and then he's ready to head out for the drive back to Baltimore.
The drive is relatively uninteresting, both to Will and the dogs. Winston is in the passenger seat curled up while the rest of the dogs reign chaos in the back. Will is relieved they can't get to the trunk where all the food is; two large kennels and a stack of boxes prevent such things from happening. There's no way it could end well if one of them got into the trunk.
Halfway to Baltimore, when Will makes a stop for gas, he greatly regrets having so many dogs in the car. It's 'roll down the windows' one minute and 'open the sunroof' the next and 'never mind close it all' the next, and Will decides that there are too many demands to keep up with that he just yells at them all to sit and be quiet.
"We'll be there in half an hour, for God's sake," he snaps. "Lie down and knock it off."
The half-hour passes quickly, and Will's pulling into the familiar driveway of Hannibal Lecter's home. The change in scenery sends the dogs into another frenzy of barking and yowling; Will has to screech over their havoc to quiet them.
"I'll be back in a few minutes. Behave yourselves. Winston's in charge for now." Will puts the windows down slightly before he gets out and locks the car doors behind him.
As expected, Hannibal is still in an appointment when Will goes in. The soft voice of the psychiatrist comes through the waiting room door along with an unfamiliar voice Will assumes is the patient's. Will ignores it and continues into Hannibal's kitchen. It's only a few minutes to eleven, according to the clock on the wall. Hannibal would arrive any moment. At least, Will hoped so. Lunchtime had always been a vague term to him.
The clock strikes eleven with a small chime. Hannibal arrives shortly after that. "Did your dogs make the trip well?" he asks. "And was your trip well?"
Will nods. "The dogs are in my car. There are eight of them. Is that okay?"
Hannibal smiles warmly. "There is plenty of room in the yard for them to play. Let's get your things into the house and then I'll make some lunch. Does that sound alright to you?"
"Yes. Thank you, Doctor Lecter." Will stands up and pushes in the chair he was using. "Should we get the dogs first?"
"If you would prefer." Hannibal motions for Will to lead the way.
It's then that the absolute strangeness of the situation hits Will like one of his night terrors. He decides to keep the thought to himself while they make their way to his car. It might be too soon to bring up any questions, Will thinks.
Winston is more than happy to see Will after being locked in the car for a whole fifteen minutes. The other dogs, as per their usual, are less than pleased with their adopted father's presence. They don't care to get out of the car and explore the strange new world of Doctor Lecter's home.
Will opens the car door and the dogs bound from their confines. Luckily, Hannibal's left the gate open and they all run nicely into the yard. Except Winston, of course. He stays at Will's side while he unpacks the two kennels and boxes of bowls and food. Hannibal carries two of the boxes and Will takes the other two.
"I appreciate that you're doing this for me, Doctor." Will shifts the weight of the boxes. "It isn't awkward for you at all, is it?" The question slips from his lips before he can clamp his mouth down around it.
"Of course not, Will." Hannibal offers a reassuring smile. "I find few things awkward, and this is not one of them. There is no need for worry."
Hannibal's answer only brings up more questions that Will doesn't ask. It's really none of his business anyway. Though he can't keep the thoughts about Lecter's comfort and reason from his head. Maybe the doctor simply does want him to get better and there's no further reason or need to wonder.
Will follows Hannibal to a corner of the yard and puts his boxes on the ground next to the boxes the psychiatrist carried over. He returns to his car to get the two kennels. With one in each hand, he carries them to where everything else is. That just leaves his bag of belongings.
"Please tell me you brought some things for yourself," Hannibal says.
"Yeah. It just isn't as much as what the dogs have." Will wipes his sweaty palms on his jeans.
"Bring it inside and I'll make lunch."
Will goes back once more to his car and grabs the final two things: a laptop carrier and a plastic trash bag filled with everything else. A pang of embarrassment flashes through him at the utter lack of stuff in his possession. It worsens when Hannibal cocks an eyebrow at the little parcels.
"Is that all?" the psychiatrist asks.
"I told you it wasn't much," Will mutters, and a dark flush spreads over his skin from ears to chest.
"Come put your bags in the living room for now." Hannibal leads the way and Will follows him. The dogs are too busy running around the yard to notice the men leaving.
Hannibal closes the gate behind them on their way to the front door. "While you're here, you'll have permission to go in any room except my office. I also ask that you stay out of the kitchen when I'm not in there."
A simple enough request, Will thinks. He follows Hannibal up the stairs and down a hallway to what he assumes is the living room. It's more of a sitting room, really, filled mostly with chairs and small tables. There's a stack of psychology textbooks on the nearest table. The room is smaller than what Will expected it to be, especially with as many guests as Doctor Lecter entertains on a regular basis.
"You can put your bag in the corner for now." Hannibal motions to the corner by the door on the opposite side of the room. Will does, and follows him into the kitchen.
"I hope you're not opposed to sandwiches for lunch. I'm afraid I didn't have much time to prepare anything worth eating."
"Sandwiches are perfectly fine, Doctor." Will's stomach makes a gurgly noise to emphasize his point.
Hannibal laughs lightly. "How many should I make you?"
"A couple would be nice," Will says, not wanting to be too greedy.
"That is hardly an acceptable answer, Will. How many sandwiches would you like?"
"Um. Two." Will gulps in air, prepared to be told that two is too many sandwiches. That response never comes.
"Much better. Two it is." Hannibal gathers the ingredients to make sandwiches: no-doubt handmade bread, some kind of chunky-looking spread, and a variety of meats and vegetables. He quickly assembles and plates four sandwiches. "I know that this is no sort of a fancy meal, but bon appetit." He presents a plate to Will and they eat.
Will focuses on not scarfing the food down like some starving dog given its first meal in weeks, even though it's what he feels like. He hasn't identified the spread, though it's gritty and tastes mostly like garlic. That's as much as he cares to tell.
"Skordalia," Hannibal says. "Greek garlic hummus. It balances the flavor of the lamb and goes well with vegetables."
"It's very good," Will says between bites. "Thank you, Doctor Lecter."
The men finish their lunch in silence, save for Will's pleased noises at the sandwich in his hands. Hannibal only smirks at the response and carries away the plates when they're finished. Will dries them and places them on a rack.
"Shall we set your room up?" Hannibal asks on the way back into the living room.
"I thought I was staying in yours." A frown spreads across Will's face.
"You'll be sleeping in my room," Hannibal corrects gently. "I thought you might want your own space during the day, a place to relax between cases with Jack Crawford."
"I appreciate it. My own space would be wonderful." Will swallows the burp that threatens to explode from his throat.
"There's a guest room at the end of the hallway I think you'll find to your liking. It's directly above the kitchen."
Will laughs. "Are you sure that's the best idea?"
"The only other guest room is downstairs under the kitchen. It's much colder there." Hannibal directs Will to the room, stopping to collect the garbage bag full of Will's belongings.
It takes Will a whopping total of three minutes to put his sparse amount of clothing in the dresser drawers. He decides to stuff the stack of towels in another drawer just in case. Better than leaving them on the floor, he thinks.
There's a soft knock at the door a few minutes later. Will says to come in and the door opens to reveal Hannibal.
"You have some visitors," the doctor says.
"I'll be right down." Will glances around to make sure he's put everything away before following Doctor Lecter down to the living room.
Jack and Alana have occupied two of the many chairs. A flash of something unidentifiable fills Will, and he flinches when Alana speaks.
"Why didn't you say you were here?" she demands. "We were worried sick! You could have been dead!"
Jack places a hand on her shoulder. "Doctor Bloom. You're overreacting." Alana stops, so Jack Crawford continues. "You didn't come in to work and you didn't call. You didn't even return our calls. We thought something might have happened. Why didn't you call?"
Will rubs the back of his neck. "Honestly? The thought never crossed my mind. I'm sorry. I was busy."
"You were busy." Jack's tone is flat, bored even. "Doing what? Moving in with Doctor Lecter?"
"It's only temporary, Jack," Hannibal says, and Will's grateful he doesn't have to answer.
"Temporary." Crawford's unspoken message is clear. It doesn't take a behavioral analyst to figure it out: he thinks there's something going on between Will and Hannibal, even though there isn't.
Alana's pained look doesn't go unnoticed by Will. A twinge of guilt flashes over his features, but he doesn't correct Jack's assumption. Neither does Hannibal.
"I'll be back to work tomorrow," Will promises. "Today was just one of those days where I forgot. It won't happen again."
"It better not happen again." Crawford crosses his arms menacingly. He doesn't realize that threats don't work on Will.
"I think we should go," Alana says quietly. "I'll find someone to fill in for him."
"Y'know, you never struck me as that type," Jack says.
Irritated at the ridiculous assumption, Will splutters. "We're not… no, I'm not…" He can't get his sentence out.
"It's nothing like that, Jack," Hannibal says. "Will's sleepwalking has worsened and I thought it best to keep him here a few nights to ensure his safety."
Jack is not amused. "Whatever. Just be to work tomorrow and there won't be a problem."
Alana all but drags Crawford from Hannibal's living room. Will can hear some sort of argument between them as they get farther away. He rolls his eyes and scrubs a hand over his face.
"Ugh," the special agent groans. "I could have gone all day without that."