Will stepped into the study and looked over the two boys, a few years older now, writing silently at their desks, Hannibal waiting patiently for them to finish working on whatever problem he had given them to work out. Will wandered over to where Hannibal was sitting, having dutifully taken over private lessons with the boys while they found somewhere to live and blend in.
He placed a kiss on Hannibal's cheek, hands on Hannibal's shoulders, looking over the text that was in Hannibal's lap. Something in German. Will had been able to decently pick up on a language or two from Hannibal and sitting in on lessons, but German was never one that he could fully seem to grasp, much too harsh for his tongue.
"Let them have a break after this," Will whispered softly in Hannibal's ear. "It's nearly lunch. I'm sure they're hungry."
Hannibal gave a small nod, stealing a quick kiss from Will.
Will watched as Morgan and Wally continued to write.
Languages were important. Everything they were taught was important. Nothing that a normal school would teach them and nothing that wasn't important for them to know. This was going to be a harsh world that these boys were shoved into and Will and Hannibal needed to make sure they were prepared for anything. Especially if something happened to Hannibal and Will and something was bound to happen to them. It was unavoidable, whether it just be them passing away or being caught, something would happen.
Hannibal had insisted on the curriculum and Will found himself not able to fight Hannibal on it. The mornings were used for learning languages so that the children could blend in wherever they needed to. Morgan had taken much easier to that than Walter had, Will finding that Walter was a little more like Will and Morgan had taken after Hannibal.
After lunch it was memorizing the extensive plans that had been put in place so the boys would know where to run if something did happen. Different exit routes and safe houses for each possible situation that could arrive. Money scattered across the world for the boys as well as any documentation needed, though Walter had become fairly good at falsifying documents. That was another thing that Hannibal insisted that they knew. They needed to know art. It wasn't just a hobby, it was part of survival and Morgan had not been nearly as accepting of it as Walter had.
Medical training was next. Everything Hannibal knew about anything surgical was being taught to them and Will was more than happy to find things for them to practice on, after all, Will needed practice too. Both boys seemed perfectly apt in this, knowing what to do for a muscle tear and what to do for a bullet wound.
Every other day, all day long, they did hand to hand combat. Hannibal taught them self defense and Will would teach them police tactics. Morgan had once again soared in this aspect, leaving Walter far behind, though Walter tried. Strength wasn't Walter's issue. He was far stronger than Morgan and he would get it eventually. It just took more practice and Hannibal was patient, ever so patient with the boys when they didn't understand anything.
Guns were also used frequently. Once more, something that Morgan excelled at. Walter anticipated the recoil too much and could hit his target, but it was never as spot on as Morgan's aim was. Morgan had taken to hunting like a fish to water. He was glorious at it and Hannibal would often gloat about the kid to Will.
Walter was a much kinder soul, Will had found. He enjoyed the quiet contemplation that fishing brought, and he was better at fishing than Morgan. Morgan detested the activity and refused to go near it despite Hannibal's insistence. Water was still something the child struggled with, though Will couldn't blame the boy. The compromise had to be that Morgan was present for fishing lessons so that he at least knew how to fish if the need arose.
Will also trained them on how to live off the land. Most weekends were spent up in the woods on their several acre property, teaching them how to set up tents and take them down, and how to set up shelters if they didn't have a tent. Which things would keep them warm and alive. Different ways to start a fire, different plants to eat and which to avoid, how to clean water properly. How to use a compass and a map or how to find their way with nothing more than stagnant water, a leaf and a paperclip.
Walter held his own far above Morgan in this aspect. Morgan could survive, but Walter would thrive. Walter picked up on living off the land, knew everything by heart the moment that Will would explain it to them.
Morgan reigned when it came to books and defense, and Walter reigned when it came to survival and protection. They were the perfect push and pull. A yin and yang. They complimented each other and were strong where the other wasn't. They could live through anything if they were together, and they could survive if apart.
Walter had taken well to gutting and cleaning any kills or fish they caught. He knew how to properly take care of each animal and how to obtain pelts to sell. Morgan had been better at learning how to cook their catches, Hannibal doing his best to teach each boy how to create filling meals with hardly any ingredients.
This weekend was a trip that Will hadn't honestly approved of, but Hannibal had deemed it necessary. And Will knew it was, but he wasn't sure how the boys would react to it. Dinner on Friday would be drugged and the boys would be taken, if they didn't notice the drugs first, out on their property somewhere with nothing more than bare essentials. A single bottle of water, a map and compass, a handful of matches and a single solar blanket. They needed to find their way back home before the end of the weekend or Will and Hannibal would go and collect them. Hannibal had been more than open about the fact that he thought Will coddled them too much and they needed more strict training, but Will was certain that Morgan and Walter could figure it out. They were perfect opposites.
Morgan was the first one up from his seat and passed Hannibal a full sheet of paper in perfect scrolls. "Gehen Sie zum Mittagessen und machen Sie eine Pause. Treffen Sie sich hier um eins, um unseren Unterricht fortzusetzen," Hannibal instructed, Will only able to pick out a few words here and there. "Gute Arbeit heute." (Go for lunch and take a break. Meet here at one to continue our class. Good job today.)
"Danke schön, Vater," Morgan replied back, glancing up at Will. "Has lunch been made?" (Thank you, Father.)
Will shook his head. "You two are going to prepare it today." Morgan gave a small nod and left the room, leaving a quiet Walter behind, who had his head in his hand and a frustrated look on his face. "Help him," Will whispered to Hannibal.
Hannibal shook his head. "He has to learn this. Or he needs the strength to ask for help. You can't just whisk in and save him. There isn't always a knight in shining armor to call on."
Will frowned, but he stayed quiet, knowing Hannibal was right. Hannibal was much more detached from the children than Will was. But it was what was needed. Their dynamic was a perfect contrast just as Morgan and Walter were. The strong and the soft. Both needed.
"Father?" Walter finally asked with a defeated sigh, looking up. Hannibal raised a single eyebrow and Walter frowned, but he knew the rules. One only spoke the language they were learning that day all through class. It was the best way to learn. "Ich brauche Hilfe. Bitte hilf mir," Walter muttered softly, head lowered in shame. Will knew hilfe, Walter was asking for help. (I need help. Please help me.)
Hannibal rose from his chair and pulled from Will's grip, stepping over to Walter's desk and kneeling down. "Sie kennen die Antwort darauf. Was ist es auf Englisch?" Hannibal asked in a kind tone. (You know the answer to that. What is it in English?)
Walter sighed, fingers tangling in his hair. "Auf Englisch?" (In English?)
"Fühlen Sie sich frei, es durchzuarbeiten und aus dem Englischen zu übersetzen. Daran ist nichts auszusetzen," Hannibal replied with a small smile, hand reaching out to take Walter's hand. Walter gave another huff of air and looked like he didn't exactly understand what Hannibal had said, but he got enough to answer back. (Feel free to work it through and translate from English. There's nothing wrong with that.)
"The answer is that I would need to apply pressure to the wound, but not remove the knife. It could make them bleed out."
"Perfekt. Jetzt auf Deutsch," Hannibal pressed, giving Walter's hand a small squeeze before releasing it. (Perfect. And in German?)
"Why can Morgan understand this better than me?" Walter asked, dropping his pencil down on the desk and laying his head on the unfinished worksheet. "He's better than me at everything."
"He's younger," Will stated, stepping up to the desk and taking Walter's shoulder with a reassuring squeeze. Walter lifted his head from the desk with a curious look. "His mind is still in early development. It's easier for him to grasp the concepts, he absorbs them because his brain chemistry is still in a language learning stage. He also grew up learning German from Alana and Margot. But that doesn't mean that you can't if you keep working at it and you need to keep working at it. This is-"
"I know, I know," Walter interrupted. "It's important and it could save our lives someday. You say that all of the time Dad."
"Because it's true," Will answered, brushing some of the teen's hair from his face. "Molly would be proud of you. You're so smart, Walter. I know you can figure this out, just like you figured out how to rewire the chandelier in the dining room with me." Walter rolled his eyes, obviously still comparing him to the six year old who had left the room. "Morgan couldn't do that," Will pointed out with a smile. "You two are both brilliant, but in different ways. You're better with your hands, you're a kinesthetic learner. There's nothing wrong with that. Morgan couldn't build that catapult you made. You're just smart in different aspects."
"You both compliment each other beautifully," Hannibal added, breaking his own rule for the sake of the kid. "Like a-"
"Tea set," Walter finished with a nod. "Am I the teacup or the saucer?"
"Tea cup," Hannibal stated. "The saucer may support you, but you hold everything inside of you. Morgan is your saucer. He will stabilize you, but you are the one everything must fall on. It is only natural that you are the responsible one." Walter gave a small nod in understanding. "Zurück zu deinem Studium. Beantworten Sie diese Frage und Sie können mit Ihrem Bruder zu Mittag essen." (Back to your studies. Answer this question and you can have lunch with your brother.)
With a new found enthusiasm, Walter finished up his page with scribbles and handed it to Hannibal before getting from his chair. "Danke dir. Ihr beide," he said as he rushed from the room to head to the kitchen. (Thank you. You both.)
Hannibal glanced over the page and gave a sigh, standing up. "He tries," Hannibal stated, heading over to his own desk and placing the paper beside Morgan's. "I just don't think he quite grasps it."
"You said it yourself," Will reminded, following Hannibal and wrapping his arms around the man's waist, hiding his face in Hannibal's shoulder blades. "They compliment each other. In everything that Walter is weak in, Morgan is strong and vice versa. They will be fine."
"And if they're separated?" Hannibal asked. "We've always had them together. Maybe we need to separate them. Teach them-"
"You can't separate them," Will argued, his grip tightening so that Hannibal couldn't give him a disapproving look. "They need each other. You know that."
"That's the problem," Hannibal pointed out, hand resting on Will's and his thumb gently caressing at Will's skin. "If something were to happen to one of them, the other wouldn't be able to cope. They need to be separated until they can be brought back together."
"That will devastate Walter."
"He needs better control of his emotions."
"Hannibal," Will stated sternly. "Walter needs Morgan. Morgan leads by example, Walter learns from him. You can't separate them. Not right now. Wait until they're a little older. A little more developed."
Hannibal sighed and pulled himself free from Will's grip, fingers playing with the silver band on his ring finger. "You're too soft on them."
"They're still children, Hannibal," Will defended. "I know you might not remember what it was like to be a child, but-"
"I remember," Hannibal cut in, eyes cold. "All too well. My upbringing was no different from theirs, I was just taught different subjects. And you remember what it's like to move across the country. They're no different from you either."
"I just want them safe."
"As do I," Hannibal stated with a small sigh, stopping with the playing of his ring. "We just have different opinions on how to get there."
"We'll discuss it after this weekend?" Will asked instead, knowing not to push the subject much more. "If they get back safely, we can separate them and build their skills that way. Work on whatever they are having trouble with. If they can't find their way back together then they aren't strong enough to be alone. They continue to have classes together. Is that fair?"
Hannibal was quiet for a moment in thought before looking over Will who had folded his arms over his chest, waiting for an answer. "Yes," Hannibal agreed with a small nod.
Morgan sat on the front steps of their home, a large estate that had an ancient castle feel to it. Something that Morgan found a little overbearing but that Walter had fallen in love with, exploring every inch of the old manor with feverish want to find any hidden secrets, pulling Morgan along on his journeys.
The book in Morgan's hand was dull and didn't hold his attention well. His eyes kept drifting over to where Walter was busy juggling a soccer ball, playing with the ball whenever he had a free moment. Morgan knew it recentered Walter when Walter was frustrated. It was something he was good at and something that Morgan wasn't. Morgan had also noticed that the sport had pulled at Walter when baseball wasn't quite as popular where they kept moving to. Which was fine for Morgan. It meant that there weren't anymore baseballs shattering windows or small blurs darting by his head.
Morgan did his best to ignore the jealousy that came off of Walter almost the whole day. Walter was kind to him when they weren't in classes together, but when class was in session, Walter was cold towards Morgan. Morgan knew it wasn't personal, but it still bothered him. Walter didn't need to be jealous. There were plenty of things that he couldn't do that Walter could. Morgan still struggled with how to orient. He was hopeless with directions when there weren't street names. And Walter was better at giving bodies stitches than Morgan was. Walter could build anything he wanted to from anything laying around and it always blew Morgan's mind that the puzzle had been put together when Morgan hadn't even considered a puzzle being there.
Morgan jumped from his thoughts as the ball bounced beside him and Walter rushed over. "Sorry," Walter said quickly as he rushed past Morgan to catch the runaway ball. Morgan closed his book and rose to his feet, stretching. "Do you want to play with me for a bit?"
"We need to get back for class," Morgan stated.
Walter lifted his wrist up and looked over his watch. "We still have ten minutes."
"You know what Father is like if we aren't there five minutes early. If you're early, you're on time. If you're on time, you're late."
Walter smiled. "I take your Lik Hock Yap Ivan and raise you Evelyn Waugh." He went back to juggling the ball on his knees. "Punctuality is the virtue of the bored."
"You're going to get in trouble again."
Walter scoffed and caught the ball from the air, looking over Morgan. "You know Dad gets upset with Father if father denies me dinner. And I have snacks hidden in my room. I don't care if I can't eat for a meal or two. Besides, isn't that supposed to be teaching me something anyways?" Walter flashed a bright smile at Morgan. "Play with me for a bit."
Morgan inhaled deeply, looking around their estate for a moment and then across the street where equally large houses all stood, old and ancient and gothic, though none were quite as large as the house that the new freaks that had just moved into. The weird gay family with far too much money. The strange family that never left their home. Maybe they were vampires. Or so the rumors went.
Morgan set his book on the step and turned to Walter who continued to smile. He dropped the ball to the grass and kicked it over to Morgan who uncoordinatedly stopped the ball with an expensive dress shoe that Father would be irate if it got scuffed, and passed the ball back to Walter.
Walter had to race after the badly directed kick, the ball rolling out and into the street. Walter stopped, breathing hard as a shoe caught the ball. He looked up and was met with the hauntly blue eyes of David Berkowicz, the boy who lived across the street and enjoyed to torture Morgan, though Walter took the brunt of the abuse to protect the younger boy.
"Ist das dein ball, Vampir?" David taunted in German. (Is that your ball, vampire?)
Walter was silent for a moment, doing his best to translate the words and gave a small nod. "Ja, give it back David."
"I thought that vampires couldn't go out in the sunlight," David continued on.
Walter rolled his eyes and tried to reach for the ball with his foot, knowing better than to try to bend down for the ball, last time having been kicked in the face and coming back in with a bloody nose that he had played off as his fault, though he knew neither of his fathers believed him for a moment.
David moved the ball back and away from Walter. "Where are your schwuchtel parents?" (Fagot.)
"Sie sind keine Schwuchteln," Morgan defended, his voice close behind Walter. (They are not fagots.)
"Ezra, go back inside," Walter instructed, the fake name feeling weird as it left his tongue. "You're going to be late for class. I'll be in when David gives the ball back."
"Follow your brother's instructions," David said, eyes not leaving Walter. "Your brother and I have some things to discuss."
"We aren't brothers," Walter grumbled.
"Does the discussion include fists?" Morgan asked simply, not paying any mind to Walter's hurtful comment, coming to stand beside Walter now. Morgan glanced between the harsh looks of the two older boys. Walter's was cold and David's smug.
Ignoring Morgan, David continued. "Bend over and get your ball, Grant. It's the only way that you're going to get it back."
Morgan was quiet as he watched, knowing that Walter wouldn't fight. Walter wasn't one to show aggression. He was passive, kind, and gentle. Walter knew how to defend himself perfectly fine from all of their training, getting the ball back should have happened before this conversation had begun, but that wasn't who Walter was. Walter was a peacemaker.
Without a word, Walter leaned forward, reaching for the ball still held under David's foot and Morgan watched, unsurprised as David's foot made quick contact with Walter's face. Walter gasped, and stood up, hand clutched over his nose that was now bleeding profusely. Walter took a few steps back, using the hem of his t-shirt to try to stop the bleeding.
Morgan wasn't going to do a thing, let Walter fight his own battles, when David laughed. Morgan sighed with a roll of his eyes. He could sit by and be emotionless, it was easy for him, especially after his mothers had died, he shut everything off. It made dealing with the bad things easier. But he could turn it back on any time that he wanted to and right now he wanted to. Walter needed his help.
Morgan raced forward and tackled David to the sidewalk, ignoring the way the rough concrete scraped up both of his knees. Instead, David and him rolled around until David was on top of Morgan, much stronger than Morgan was. Morgan met David's eyes and could just make out both the scared child and the cold glare of someone far older than Morgan before David's fist collided with Morgan's face.
It was curious. He didn't feel the pain right away. He was more dazed and stuck in thought. Who was David when he attacked the two of them? Was he the parents that hurt him, disguised under layers of excuses? Or did David desperately want to be on the other side of that punch?
Walter stared for a moment, watching, unsure what exactly to do before instincts that had been drilled into him for the last two years kicked in. He ran to David and took the collar of his shirt, dragging David with bloodied hands and a still flooding nose, off of Morgan.
His arm wrapped around David's neck and his hand clasped at his wrist, keeping his grip tight around David. "You touch him again, you're dead," Walter hissed in David's ear. There was a sharp pain as the air was forced from his lungs as David's elbow plunged into Walter's ribcage.
Walter's grip faltered and David pulled from it, leaving Walter gasping and hunched over.
Morgan scrambled to his feet as David fell to his knees, coughing from the choke hold that Walter had him locked into. Morgan pushed David onto his back and dug one of his knees into David's ribs, snatching up his arm. With a strong, practiced movement, Morgan pulled at David's arm against his thigh and more felt than heard the snap of David's arm.
David gave a cry of pain and Morgan released him, stepping back at the shout of his name from a voice that was hardly ever raised in anger. Morgan breathed hard, eyes dark as a brutal grip snatched up his shoulder, pulling him further away from David.
"That is enough!" Hannibal hissed, passing Morgan over to Will to look over.
Will dropped to his knees, hands brushing back Morgan's dark hair and taking in the deep purple that was beginning to surround one of his eyes. Morgan would be fine. Will got back to his feet, a tight arm wrapping around Morgan to hold him in place, as if Morgan were going to attack again.
Hannibal was at Walter's side next, trying to straighten the still gasping and now crying boy back up. "Breathe," Hannibal ordered. "Through your mouth." His hands took either side of Walter's face, frightened eyes meeting Hannibal's. "Grant, focus. Breathe." With a struggling inhale, Walter tumbled against Hannibal, finally able to breathe freely. Hannibal hugged him tightly for a moment and once the boy's breathing was steady, he pushed Walter back, looking over his face. "Your nose might be broken. We'll get you taken care of. Allen, take the children inside," Hannibal instructed, pushing Walter towards Will who had an arm outstretched to the boy.
Hannibal glanced towards the child that was wailing on the ground and had pulled concerned eyes to windows of the surrounding houses. So much for laying low. People tended to mind their own business in rich neighborhoods, more occupied with themselves and able to pay off police if anything arose, but eyes would be on them now.
Hannibal walked over to the kid and knelt down beside him, looking over the work that his two sons had done. His arm was broken, but other than that there didn't look to be anything else wrong with him other than being covered in what could have only been Walter's blood.
"Du bist das Kind von Berkowicz, oder?" Hannibal asked, having the boy sit up. Snot and tears ran down his face, but Hannibal didn't much care about this child. He knew that the kid had been tormenting his own sons and that it would only be a matter of time before the two boys didn't ignore it and Hannibal was curious as to which child had started it. The boy sniffled with a nod and Hannibal pulled the kid to his feet with a strong grip. "Es wird Dir gut gehen." (You're Berkowicz's kid, aren't you? You'll be fine.)
With a strong stride that had the kid struggling to keep up, Hannibal led the child up to his parent's house, knocking on the door, turning on the charm with a kind smile as the door opened.
Walter jumped as the soccer ball was thrown to him and Hannibal entered the kitchen. Walter caught the ball against his chest, his eyes going to Hannibal whose expression was strangely calm despite the anger that Walter could see there in his eyes.
He had seen Hannibal upset before. Maybe not upset. That wasn't quite right. He had witnessed Hannibal being put out by someone. He had seen Hannibal annoyed and irritated, but those emotions had easily been soothed away by Will. He had never seen Hannibal angry before and he didn't want to know how strong the wrath of God was going to be when Hannibal snapped and bathed the earth in blood.
Was this one of those times?
Walter set the ball on the counter and turned his attention back to Will who had been helping clean all of the blood from his face while pieces of toilet paper were shoved up his nose to try to stop the rest of the bleeding.
"Would someone like to explain what happened?" Hannibal asked into the quiet room, voice controlled and steady, though the fire in his eyes didn't dim.
"Hanni-"
"Will," Hannibal interrupted. "The boys have voices, do they not? Let them speak."
"He took Walter's ball," Morgan stated from where he sat at the counter in one of the bar seats, an icepack held to one of his eyes, both knees bandaged. Hannibal's eyes left Walter and turned their attention to the younger boy. "Walter tried to get it back, he kicked Walter."
Hannibal gave a small nod, the blaze doused slightly. "Self defense?" Morgan gave a single nod, not sure he wanted to speak, and Hannibal sighed. "Morgan, you're alright?"
"Fine," Morgan answered dully.
"Let's take a look at you, Walter," Hannibal said, voice softer now. He held out his hand to Walter who glanced up at Will as if asking for protection. Will simply nudged Walter on and Walter trudged over to Hannibal who wrapped his arm around Walter's shoulder and led the boy to the hall bath. Hannibal sat Walter on the toilet and then dug under the sink to find the first aid kit that was there. "Why did you let him hurt you?"
"He wasn't going to give the ball back unless he got a hit in," Walter muttered, the speaking making his nose ache. "It was no big deal until Morgan jumped in. I had to help him."
"This shouldn't have occurred in the first place," Hannibal muttered, pulling out some alcohol wipes and taking Walter's chin in his hand. He removed the two bunches of toilet paper from the boy's nose and tossed them away. "Try to stay still, Mangustėli." (Little Mongoose.)
"Why do you call me that?" Walter winced as Hannibal cleaned his nose. "You call dad all sorts of pet names and Morgan is little rabbit. Why am I a fucking mongoose?" He hissed as the wipe touched at the bridge of his nose.
"You remind me of Will," Hannibal explained, pulling the wipe back, fingers gingerly pressing on Walter's nose. "Language please. You know better." Walter tried to rip himself from Hannibal's grip, but Hannibal held the boy still. "Hush, Mangustėli," Hannibal instructed gently. "Nejudėk." (Don't move.)
"What does a mongoose have to do with Dad?" Walter whimpered as Hannibal's fingers carefully pushed into each side of his nose.
"Does it hurt to breathe through your nose?" Hannibal questioned. Walter gave a small nod. "I think it's broken, mangustėli. I can set it here if you would like."
"I have a choice?" Walter asked curiously, eyes wide.
"You always have a choice." Hannibal stopped working on Walter's nose and looked over the boy's face before understanding his question more fully. "We've had this conversation before when you were younger. Walter, why do you think we don't make Morgan learn how to fish?"
"Because he threw a temper tantrum?" Walter asked back with a shrug of his shoulders.
"Because you have a choice, Walter," Hannibal stated strongly, digging back into his med kit, pulling out a syringe and a bottle of liquid. "Would you like me to set your nose for you? I can take you to the hospital if you would rather."
"I trust you, Father," Walter answered with a decided voice, one that made Hannibal smile lightly as he filled the syringe. "You didn't answer about the mongoose thing."
"You are strong and protective like your dad." Hannibal reached back out and cradled one of Walter's cheeks and pressed the needle in next to his nose, pushing the numbing agent into Walter's veins. "But you have a hot headed temper."
"And Morgan is a rabbit because...?" Walter questioned.
"Gentle, childlike, kind." Walter frowned at the comparison, the needle feeling odd as it was pulled from his skin. He knew Hannibal preferred Morgan, but he didn't think that Hannibal would be so forthcoming with the information. "We need to talk about this idea that you have about yourself and what Will and I are doing for you. You are thinking of our lessons as a requirement, a responsibility that is being forced on you. This is not the case. We have always tried to make it a choice."
"Are you saying that I don't have to keep studying?" Walter asked in confusion, reaching up to touch his nose at the odd numbness that was settling in. Hannibal quickly pulled his hand away. "I could go to school like a normal kid? I don't have to shoot guns or learn languages anymore?"
"It is a possibility that we can discuss if that is something you truly want," Hannibal muttered, carefully touching at Walter's nose once more. "Do you feel that?"
"Not really," Walter answered. "So you're saying I can be normal?"
"I am saying that you have a choice here, Walter." Hannibal gave a small nod and gently tipped Walter's head back to get a better look at the kid's nose. "And I would think carefully about the right choice before you jump to what it is you want. Will and I have worked very hard to teach you and continue to teach you everything we have ever learned." He brought Walter's head back down and looked over the child's questioning eyes.
"So we can kill like you," Walter stated in nearly a question. "You're making us mini soldiers."
Hannibal tipped his head to the side curiously. "We do not want you to be killers," he stated strongly, surprising Walter. "We are giving you the tools you need to live if worst comes to worst."
"Because you and Dad can't stop killing, is what you mean," Walter pressed, doing his best to understand his screwed up world that he had been dragged into. Had picked to go into.
Hannibal was silent for a moment, avoiding the question with another answer that was just as true. "We want you two to live full and happy lives. There are people who are always going to be hunting your dad and me and we need you two to be safe."
"Why?" Walter challenged, feeling a hurt rage build up in his sternum and along his arms.
"Because losing you and your brother-"
"He's not my brother," Walter grumbled.
"-terrifies the both of us."
Walter blinked several times, taking in the words. "You?" he asked in shock. "You don't care what happens to me."
"What gave you that idea?" Hannibal asked softly, stunned at the comment. He reached up and pressed once more at Walter's nose and stood up. "Come here, Walter." He pulled Walter to his feet and turned the boy around. "Close your eyes."
Walter rolled his eyes, but did as he was told with a huff of air through his rather numb nose. "I know you like Morgan more than me," Walter stated in answer to Hannibal's question.
"This isn't going to be pleasant," Hannibal warned, finger's going to either side of Walter's nose. "You're going to hear everything when I push it back into place."
"I heard it break. I doubt it will be much different."
"On three, ready?" Hannibal asked, finger's finding where the bone was misaligned. "Vienas du trys." Hannibal pressed on the boy's nose and could feel the bones shift back into place and Walter shifted uncomfortably in Hannibal's grip, the crackle loud in the small bathroom. "Nearly done, Mangustėli. Aš pažadu." He turned Walter around and had him sit back down. Hannibal carefully took some gauze and rolled it up, pressing it into each side of Walter's nose to make sure that the nose would keep its correct position, and then added some tape over his nose to help keep the gauze in place. "Ar kuri nors kita jūsų dalis yra sužeista? Tavo šonkauliai-" (I promise. Is any other part of you injured? Your ribs-)
"I'm fine," Walter interrupted, pushing Hannibal's hands away from his body.
Walter normally tried to keep his conversations between him and Hannibal in English, but he knew that if Hannibal began speaking Lithuanian then he expected that Walter would follow along, that language coming easier to him than most, though only the universe knew why that was. Walter found himself slipping into the other language when he was upset too. It gave him something to hide behind. Words that were his, but weren't his at the same time.
"You're doing well with your Lithuanian," Hannibal commented, giving the boy what he wanted and starting to clean up the mess. "You understand it better than your German."
"German is hard," Walter grumbled with a frown, eyebrows furrowed. "There's so many extra words that don't exist in English, that we don't use in English. At least in French it's based in Latin. I already knew some of it."
"German is Latin based."
"Different forms of Latin," Walter argued. "Not the Latin that English, French and Italian are based in."
"That's not entirely true," Hannibal corrected. "German and English are Indo-European languages stemming from the same Germanic language family and-"
"I don't care, Hannibal," Walter shot at Hannibal sharply, the rage still swirling deep in him.
Hannibal paused his work and glanced over at Walter who sat with his arms folded and his shoulders slumped. "You only call me Hannibal when I have done something to upset you," Hannibal pointed out, going back to work. "What have I done?" Walter didn't say a word, didn't look up, just pouted at the wall. Hannibal gave a small nod, folded his arms that were covered in Walter's blood and leaned against the sink. "You're upset that I have not explained why I prefer Morgan over you."
"Damn straight."
"Language, Walter," Hannibal warned, eyes sharp. "You are more than well aware of house rules."
"I thought I had choices," Walter recalled with a sarcastic jab, looking up at Hannibal with a pointed glare. "Is it only Morgan who has choices now? Or do I have choices when it suits you?" Hannibal didn't answer, letting Walter rant to better understand what the boy wanted. "Aš tiesiog tavo marionetė. Morganas yra tavo karalius." (I'm just your puppet. Morgan is your king.)
"Jūs tikrai tobulėjate, Walter," Hannibal complimented. (You are really improving, Walter.)
"You're not even saying I'm wrong!" Walter shouted, rising to his feet to look at Hannibal who still stood calmly at the sink, letting the boy's emotions run their course. "You treat Morgan like when he walks on the ground gold sprouts from his steps."
"Mangustėli-"
"Negalima manęs taip vadinti!" Walter ordered, teeth clenched. "Tai taip pat erzina, kaip tu visą laiką rami! Ar drausminsi mane, ar ką nors padarysi?" (Don't call me that! It's also annoying how calm you are all the time! Will you discipline me or will you do something?)
"Are you wanting to be disciplined?" Hannibal questioned, voice not raising in volume in the slightest and Walter wondered if that was just to piss him off. "Other than swearing in the house, I do not think you have broken any rules. I do not believe you need to be disciplined."
"I'm raising my voice at you," Walter pointed out hotly. "You hate when I do that!"
"I dislike when you don't have valid concerns and are just upset for the sake of being upset."
"Teisingi rūpesčiai?" Walter tried to snort out laughter, but nothing came out, only a dull ache from the medicine begging to wear off. Walter winced, a hand going to his nose. (The right worries.)
"You need to take some painkillers. You'll be wanting them for the next few days."
"I don't want medicine. I want to know why I'm the second favorite," Walter argued. "I want to know why only Will seems to care about me. I want to know why Morgan is picked for everything over me. What do you do for me that's different from Morgan that makes me special? Because I don't feel special around you Hannibal. You don't care about me, I know it."
"You think that I give Morgan special treatment," Hannibal said with a small nod, putting the truth out for Walter to fully hear. "That I treat him better than you because I believe he is a gift from the gods. Is that what you're trying to say? Because that is what I am hearing."
"Negalima manęs psichoanalizuoti. Aš nesu tavo pacientas." (Don't psychoanalyze me. I am not your patient.)
"Ne," Hannibal agreed. "Tu esi mano sūnus." (No. You are my son.)
Walter groaned, hands becoming fists. "Nustokite šokinėti aplink klausimą,Hannibal. Pasakyk man kodėl!" (Stop jumping around the question, Hannibal. Tell me why!)
"You won't believe me, even if I told you the truth," Hannibal said with a deep breath, looking away from the angry boy whose face had gone red.
"Išbandyk mane," Walter hissed through his teeth. (Try me.)
Hannibal reached out and took hold of Walter's shoulder, pulling Walter into a hug, shooting enough shock through Walter that it had to take the place of the anger in his body because there just wasn't enough room to house the two emotions simultaneously. Hannibal's gentle fingers caressed Walter's dark hair and he leaned his head against Walter's.
"Aš tave myliu, mangustėli. Ne daugiau ir ne mažiau kaip Morgan." Hannibal's voice was soft, barely above a whisper and Walter had to strain to hear the words. "I do not show you the same emotion that I do Morgan because you are older. He is still learning and growing. You are set in your ways and Will has done a wonderful job of raising you. I do not coddle you because I want you to be strong. I want you to be responsible. I want you to be independent. I want you to be able to protect Morgan. That doesn't mean that I don't care about you, mangustėli." (I love you, little mongoose. No more and no less than Morgan.)
Walter could feel tears sting at his eyes and his hands became fists in the stupid suits that Hannibal liked to wear. He closed his eyes and carefully hid his face further in Hannibal's chest.
"Tu man be galo ypatinga." Hannibal tightened his grip on Walter, closing his eyes as the boy shook in his grasp, most likely crying. "You asked for something that I do specifically with you and not Morgan?" Walter nodded. "I do not hold any conversation with him in Lithuanian. Not even with Will. That is strictly for us." (You are extremely special to me.)
"Why?"
"Nes jūs vienintelis jį uždirbote." (Because you are the only one who has earned it.)