Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/917336.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Hannibal_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Will_Graham/Hannibal_Lecter, Will_Graham_&_The_Stag, Will_Graham/The_Stag
  Character:
      Will_Graham, Hannibal_Lecter, Garrett_Jacob_Hobbs, Alana_Bloom, Winston,
      Jack_Crawford, Beverly_Katz, Barney_Matthews
  Additional Tags:
      Hannibal_is_a_Cannibal, Stag_Hannibal, Possessive_Hannibal, Will_Graham/
      Beverly_Katz_Friendship, Will_Graham_is_a_teenager, Mental_Instability,
      Hallucinations, Fluff, Creepy_Fluff, Eventual_Smut, Bonding
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-08-08 Updated: 2013-09-05 Chapters: 2/? Words: 6823
****** This Monster That Eats Monsters ******
by Swiggity_(queencakes)
Summary
     AU where Will is an orphaned teenager in a psych ward. Hannibal is
     still a cannibal and a doctor. There will be creepy fluff. No Beta.
     A 15 year-old Will spends his days drifting in and out of reality in
     a psychiatric ward. He refuses to eat or sleep and the weaker he
     gets, the stronger the monsters in his head become. One night he
     finds himself trapped in a forest in his mind and he can't snap out
     of it. The monsters are closing in and all Will can think to do is
     pray for the first time in his life.
     It's not God that answers his cries but another monster, bigger than
     all the rest, made of knives, teeth and antlers. A monster that eats
     other monsters.
Notes
     There will be creepy fluff, some regular fluff, some angst and, of
     course, SMUT.
     Not beta read, very sorry. I suck at proof-reading my own writing, I
     never see the mistakes until it's too late. I tried though...
     If you post hannigram please follow and I will follow back: http://
     hannigram-queencakes.tumblr.com
     Enjoy!
***** Chapter 1 *****
“Will? Will can you hear me? It’s okay, you’re safe. Will?” the nurse continued
to try and calm him down but the boy couldn’t hear her words and as far as she
could discern, he couldn’t see her either. He was looking through her at
something else in the room that only he could see and whatever it was had
reduced the teenager to a whimpering ball in the corner of the hospital’s
morgue. His hair was matted to his forehead with sweat and he rocked on his
heels murmuring, taking sharp intakes of breath. It almost sounded like he was
praying but it was completely unintelligible.
Other nurses and hospital staff stood by at a cautious distance, ready to
forcibly sedate him if he tried to hurt himself or someone else. Dr. Bloom, his
psychiatrist, was out of town until the weekend and there was no way she could
make it back to Baltimore in any reasonable amount of time to deal with this.
She had informed them over the phone that she would be sending along a
colleague of hers, who would be able to handle the situation.
It had been almost an hour since Will Graham had been discovered missing from
his bed on the third floor. It hadn’t taken long to find him huddled in the
corner of the basement morgue, seemingly scared out of his wits by whatever
hallucinations had lured him down there in the first place. The majority of the
hour had been spent trying to snap the boy back to reality and waiting for the
doctor to arrive.
And so they waited.
 
----
 
Will inhaled sharply, gulping down the minimum amount of oxygen it would take
to keep his lungs from burning. He didn’t want to breathe at all because the
air was putrid with the smell of stale blood and rot, it made his stomach sour.
The only reason it wasn’t making him vomit was because he hadn’t swallowed
solid food in almost a week.
His heart beat was erratic as he huddled against the back wall of the morgue.
It was the only part of the room that hadn’t been swallowed by his
hallucination. The rest of the room, the rest of the hospital in fact, had
suddenly been overgrown by a forest. His mind clung to this single patch of
white tiles, the only anchor he had to the real world.
It was dark and cold and there were no stars in the sky, just pure black and
trees. There was enough light to see the trees and the immediate ground before
him but there was no visible light source. The only sounds were his own erratic
heartbeat and the chilling murmur of the monsters hiding behind the trees. They
were coming for him, they knew he was there and he was certain that the only
thing keeping them at bay was his own sheer willpower. But he was very tired in
every sense of the word and it was only a matter of time before his defences
fell. They could out last him.
Delusions weren’t new to the 15 year-old, it was something he’d had to deal
with since he was a small child but this one felt different. This time it felt
like his mind was being assaulted. It felt like something was trying to get
inside - a darkness that had always been there, lurking, waiting for his
barriers to be weakened. Something he had locked up in a cage and buried in the
deepest corners of his mind a long, long time ago and it was finally loose. The
monsters watching him from the trees were just the echoes of killers and the
ghosts of victims that had seeped into his mind. They were merely scavengers,
vultures in comparison to what was coming for him.
He whimpered and bit into his lip, the pain kept him alert.
He’d never really believed in God and his life up to this point assured him
that there probably wasn’t one. He wasn’t raised to be religious but all the
same he found himself praying as his panic rose. It was nothing fancy because
he didn’t know any Our Father or Hail Mary, he simply pleaded with whatever was
out there, any power greater than himself, to please help him.
And then he heard it, a new sound, something was coming. He held his breath and
stared wide-eyed into the darkness, unable to look away and trembling. It
sounded like a steady heartbeat at first and he knew it wasn’t his because his
heart was all but ready to burst. But as it came closer it started to sound
like hooves, heavy and unshod, not a horse. The monsters heard it too and they
stilled. Were they frightened of it too?
After an agonising minute that stretched on forever, two red eyes, that seemed
to be emitting their own light, emerged from the pitch black, followed by the
bare outline of antlers and the snout of the biggest stag he’d ever seen, too
big to be a real animal. It drew a little closer and stopped at the tree line,
head turning to one side and then the other. The Others hissed and snarled as
they scampered further away from the intruder. The stag paid them no further
heed and turned to regard Will. It’s nostrils flared, steam billowing around
it’s head as it scented the cold air. It’s neck was lined with raven feathers
that fluttered with each inhale and exhale.
Will noted that his pulse had slowed down significantly. This unthreatening
vision of a stag in the forest, even in this place, even with those blood-red
eyes locked on him, it was strangely calming. This beast wasn’t what he’d been
afraid of, this was something else entirely. He wasn’t even sure this animal
was of his own mind, it felt foreign and far too elegant to be something his
mind could conjure up on its own.
The stag took a step forward and Will’s breath hitched and fear started to well
up from the pit of his stomach again when suddenly it wasn’t a stag anymore.
The transformation was seamless - one instant it was a stag and the next it was
standing upright on two legs like a human, except these legs were still cloven.
This new beast towered to at least 7ft from it’s hooves to it’s forehead and
then stretched on for another 3ft of antlers. Will hugged his knees closer to
him, buried his face in his arms and began his silent prayers again.
The beast came to a halt very close to him and the heat rolling off of it’s
body was strangely comfortable. Will tensed, anticipating pain or some form of
touch but there was nothing. He waited a moment longer and still there was
nothing, just the sound of The Thing’s steady breathing and the occasional stir
of a hoof over gravel.
Swallowing his ebbing panic yet again, Will cracked open his eyes and found two
garnet orbs peering down at him. He gasped in fright but didn’t dare look away.
The beast was crouched down, kneeling on one leg, as close to Will’s level as
it’s long body would allow. Its face was expressionless but its eyes held
curiosity. It tilted its head a little, like it was trying to figure out what
he was, like a boy was just as big an oddity to It as It was to a boy.
Will broke eye contact and took in the entirety of the creature before him. He
started with its enormous hooves that looked big enough to crush a man’s skull
in one stomp, Will reckoned with a gulp. Its satyr legs were dusted with black
feathers, he couldn’t see if it had a tail or not. Its torso was long and
black, the prominent outline of it’s shoulders and ribcage didn’t seem sickly
like it would on a human. Large hands stretched out into barbed fingers,
disproportionately long and sharp like knives. Will skipped its face, as was
his habit in every social interaction, and awed a little at the ebony antlers
that loomed over them both, as sharp and powerful as those fingers.
He felt that strange calmness wash over him again. Here he was sitting at the
foot of a creature that could kill him, literally, with the touch of one finger
and yet his body and subconscious didn’t seem to be registering a threat of any
sort.
Will wet his lips and lowered his gaze finally. Its face was oddly human
despite its blue-black pigmentation and piercing red eyes. It had the face of a
man, both handsome and ugly all at once. Its tranquil expression only served to
sooth his nerves even further.
“What-“ Will croaked, his throat was bone dry. He swallowed hard and tried
again. “Who are you?”
The beast titled it’s head again and Will wondered if it could even understand
what he was saying but then its lips parted and it spoke. The voice seemed to
be coming from all around them and not from the creature’s own mouth. Will
could see the tips of teeth as its mouth moved, every single one of them was
pointed like a shark’s, definitely not the herbivore teeth of a stag.
“You called for help, did you not?” Its voice was smooth and refined and
definitely male, it was wrapped in some strange accent Will wasn’t familiar
with.
Will nodded, thinking of his prayers and found himself wondering if this thing
was the god he’d been praying to or, perhaps, it was the devil who had answered
him instead.
“And so here I am, little one.”
It leaned closer to Will, its face stopping just an inch away from his collar
bone. Will leaned his head back against the morgue’s tilled wall on instinct,
realising too late that he’d just exposed his neck to those teeth. He supposed
it wouldn’t have made a difference anyway, if the thing wanted to tear his
throat out it wouldn’t need Will’s help to do so.
It inhaled softly and then closed its eyes and breathed in again, long and
deliberately, the way a person might smell a rose. It scented up along the
boy’s neck and into his hair where it pressed its nose and hummed
appreciatively. Will shuddered at the contact, blood rushed to his face and his
neck as the beast trailed its nose back down along his throat. He yelped when
he felt a rough tongue flick against his pulse point but he didn’t dare pull
away or try to shove the beast. The creature pulled back a bit but still
remained in Will’s personal space.
“My apologies, I could not resist a taste.” There was a hint of amusement in
it’s tone.
Will could only nod, his face was only growing redder he was sure.
“What are you?” he hoped the question wouldn’t cause any offence.
Another tilt of its head. “What do you think I am?”
Will thought about it as best as he could, trying to find the right answer but
his mind was skittish and jumbled. “A god...? Maybe...a demon?” he stuttered.
He knew it sounded silly but considering the circumstances they seemed like
perfectly logical guesses.
The creature looked amused again, it chuckled darkly, the sound sent shivers up
and down Will’s spine.
“I could be either or neither,” It was sniffing him again now, nose lingering
in his hair. Will wondered how he could smell so interesting after a month of
lying in a hospital bed. “If I were a demon, would you sell your soul to me in
exchange for safe passage from this Hell of yours?” It purred into his ear. Its
hot breath made him sigh.
Will wasn’t sure if it was a serious question or not but it only took him a
moment of consideration to realise that even if it was serious, would he really
miss his soul? He was probably going to Hell anyway, if it existed - if he
wasn’t truly in it right now.
The beast looked as though it was about to speak again when it’s ears flickered
and it leaned back to its original crouching position. It turned to look over
its shoulder and Will’s eyes followed it. There at the edge of the tree line
stood a man Will knew only too well, Garret Jacob Hobbs. The only killer Will
had actually ever met in person, the only one he’d spoken to outside his head
and the only life he’d ever taken. The memory of the man haunted him whether he
was awake or asleep and even now, as every other monster in Will’s head cowered
in the forest, Garrot Jacob Hobbs wasn’t going to relent. He brandished a
hunting knife in his hand, his knuckles flexing around the grip.
“He hunts and kills stags.” Will whispered. The beast glanced at him in
acknowledgement and then back to the hunter.
“Does he now?” It chuckled darkly and rose to its full height. Suddenly Will
felt a little foolish for thinking Garret Jacob Hobbs would be a threat to this
being made of knives and teeth.
Hobbs darted across the space between them without warning but the stag-man was
unfazed.
“You may want to close your eyes.” it offered.
Will ignored the warning and watched the beast impaling Hobbs with its fingers.
They cut right through the man’s body and out the other side. It lifted the
struggling form off the ground with ease until the man’s face was level with
its own. Hobbs gargled and choked on his own blood, the beast chuckled again,
twisting it’s claws around inside him, bones snapped loudly and still the
hunter lived and wailing in agony.
Will thought he should have been horrified when the beast’s jaws opened, almost
unhinged and snake-like and It chomped down over Hobbs’ head with a sickening
crunch, his skull offered no resistance and his screaming stopped abruptly.
Will found that he wasn’t horrified though, all he could do was cringe at the
sight and sound of it. Hobbs had made his existence so unbearable, had taken so
much from him that he couldn’t find this scene anything short of gratifying.
The beast chewed and swallowed, taking no considerable time to savour the
mouthful. It ripped its claws out of the carcass, organs billowing out before
the corpse hit the ground. Will peered at the headless mess and still couldn’t
feel any horror growing inside him. He wondered if Hobbs would stay dead this
time or if his mind would reincarnate him for future torment. The notion didn’t
make this moment any less satisfying.
He looked up at the beast, regarding it in a new light now. This display of
butchery should have made him scared, disgusted, worried for his own life but
something inside of him had decided he should feel the exact opposite. He felt
safe and protected in the presence of this monster that ate other monsters.
Even the dark part of himself that had broken free was now retreating back to
its prison in the dark corners of his mind. It was strong enough to force
itself on Will in his weakened state but it knew it wasn’t strong enough to do
battle with this creature in order to get to him.
The beast came to tower over him again and Will didn’t shy away from meeting
its eyes this time. A small smile played across its face. It seemed to sense
the change inside Will too, the seeds of trust and some admiration had been
planted. Will pondered for an instant if he had somehow bargained away his soul
without realising it.
“I think it is time to leave this place,” It spoke softly, offering its clawed
hand to help the boy up. “If you are ready, little one.”
Will nodded shortly and placed his smaller hand into the other - it was warm
and firm and all the coldness in him seeped away. Barbed fingers closed around
his own - the beast was gentle and careful not to prick or cut him. Will stood,
holding tight to the other, not wanting to let go, though the beast made no
move to dislodge him anyway.
“How...how do we get out of here?” Will asked. They were in a hallucination
after all. He didn’t think that if they kept walking they’d eventually find
reality - unless Will’s mind had created an exit for them. If it had he was
completely oblivious to it.
“Look.” Said the stag-man, nodding to the forest.
All at once it was being consumed in flames. The other monsters screamed in
agony, rolling on the ground, trying to the put the flames out but the fire was
fast and their bodies disintegrated into ash as if they’d been made out of
dried leaves. The trees and brush began burning away too, revealing the
familiar tiles and metal of the morgue. The smell of rot was being replaced
with antiseptics and bleach and something else, something inviting.
Will felt a stab of panic as realisation dawned on him. “What’ll happen to
you?”
“I will be perfectly fine.” the beast said, smile still firmly in place.
“But...will I see you again?” The forest was nearly gone now and Will could see
people, his nurse and some others in hospital attire.
“It is a certainty, little one.” the beast nodded, his free hand rising to
brush dangerous claws against the Will’s cheek, gentle and careful. Will leaned
into the touch as best as he could. Affection was a foreign concept to him,
even his own father had never touched him with any measure of kindness but this
monster touching him made him feel warm and stable.
“Thank you.” he hurriedly chirped and then stag-man was gone.
 
----
 
Will blinked in confusion and furrowed his brow. The claws were gone, the
antlers were gone and the hooves were gone but staring right back at him was
the face of the beast. It was flesh toned instead of blue-black, it had hair
the colour of sand and ash and it’s eyes were maroon, rather than garnet but it
was definitely the same face. Will blinked again and took in this man who was
tall but certainly not 10ft tall.
His eyes wandered around the room, assessing whether or not he really was back
in reality. The hospital staff watched him with a mixture of concern, weariness
and irritation. The nurse who usually looked after him, Rita, caught his eye.
She wasn’t annoyed with him, just concerned and clearly relieved to see him
acknowledging her. That brief connection with her grounded him and he was
certain he was now completely awake.
He brought his gaze back to the man standing in his space, holding his hand. A
large palm came to rest against his sweaty forehead and for once in his life
Will didn’t so much as try to break from the eye contact he was sharing with
this stranger - a stranger that he knew he’d already met. The man looked back
at him with the same recognition. Will leaned into the cooling touch.
“He has a fever, possibly an infection,” the man said with authority, his voice
was that of the stag-man. “In his brain.” His hand lingered far too long
against Will’s brow for a taking of temperature. Will didn’t mind.
Whatever was said beyond that was lost to him until one of the nurses addressed
this man as “Doctor Lecter”. He blocked it all out and felt a pleasant twist of
giddiness in his stomach because the other people in the room weren’t privy to
this intimate eye contact and seemingly professional touching that was being
shared right in front of them.
“Hello, Will.” the words caressed his face, they were so close. He inhaled,
smelling the man’s breath and the rest of him. He smelled of wine, leather and
frankincense. He smelled of power and safety.
He didn’t understand what exactly had transpired here, he didn’t understand how
the creature from his delusion had followed him into reality and manifested
itself into a man but he was so relieved that it had.
Will sighed, he felt strangely unburdened for once in his life.
“Hello, Doctor Lecter.”
***** Chapter 2 *****
Chapter by queencakes
Chapter Notes
     Thank you so much for all the comments and kudos on Chapter One! I
     didn't expect such interest and I appreciate every single bit of it!
     <3
     Not beta-read and as I've said before, I suck at proof-reading my own
     work because my brain corrects the mistakes as I'm reading it. I've
     read through this three times but I'm positive there are things I've
     missed. If you spot any big ones please feel free to let me know so I
     can fix them. :)
     Enjoy.
     If you post Hannigram then follow me and I'll follow you back: http:/
     /hannigram-queencakes.tumblr.com
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Hannibal’s eyes blinked open, fully alert as he heard the gentle padding of a
nurse’s slippers entering the room. To look at him, no one would have guessed
that he’d spent half the night awake, gently lulling a fevered teenager to
sleep. The other half was spent sleeping at said teenager’s bedside, sitting
upright in a chair that had never known the concept of comfort in its entire
existence.
The nurse regarded him warmly and he rewarded her with one of his practiced
smiles.
“Just checking in on him before I head on home.” she said softly, a childhood
spent in New Orleans was faint in her voice but he could detect it. Hannibal
paid her no further heed as she did her job.
He checked his watch, it was 7am. He needed to go home and shower, he needed to
change, eat and then dispose of the body he’d been forced to keep in the trunk
of his car over night. It was sealed in a plastic body bag, sitting out in the
hospital parking lot waiting to be discovered. He wasn't worried about it
really but he was a man who always liked to err on the side of caution when it
came to preserving his comfortable lifestyle. He’d gotten the call from Alana
just minutes after he’d made the kill and at first he’d considered lying and
saying he was too far away from the hospital to be of any use, then she would
simply have had to call another colleague for the favour. Yes, it would have
been rude but the body in the trunk of his was at the top of his priority list.
Or rather, it had been until Alana disclosed the name of her patient to him,
one William Graham. Hannibal was the only one she could trust with a situation
this delicate, she’d said and she was right, to an extent.
Will Graham had been at the centre of media attention for weeks after he’d
gunned down a serial killer by the name of Garret Jacob Hobbs. As far as
anybody knew he’d disappeared off the face of the earth immediately after the
incident and journalist Freddie Loundes was intent on finding him. She was even
brazenly offering a reward for accurate information pertaining to his
whereabouts. The fact that Will was a minor was the only reason Loundes hadn’t
been allowed to include pictures with her inquiry and it was likely the only
reason nobody had given him up yet. Nobody knew what the boy looked like.
Hannibal had guessed he was being kept somewhere under a fake name and he was
correct. ‘William Harrison’ was the name on the chart the nurse was scribbling
in. He’d also had his suspicions that Alana Bloom knew of the boy’s whereabouts
but if he had outright asked her about it weeks ago she would have scrutinised
his reasons for asking. She trusted Hannibal, there was no question about it,
but Hannibal had trained her himself and he knew she would put that trust in
him aside if she sensed an agenda.
From what Alana had entrusted him with over the phone, Will was now an orphan,
a ward of the state and being kept under protective custody by the FBI because
there were concerns that Hobbs’ may have had a partner or at least a copycat
admirer and that Will might become a target for revenge. He was being kept in a
psychiatric ward because the boy had suffered a nervous breakdown followed by a
half-hearted attempt at taking his own life. Now he seemed intent of starving
himself to death slowly.
It was most fortunate for the good doctor that the events of the night before
had played out as perfectly as they had. Hannibal might even go so far as to
say that their reunion was fated to happen.
The psychiatrist let his eyes wander around the room with more scrutiny than he
had during the night. It was a plain hospital room, uncomfortable and
unimpressive by nature and there weren’t many things out of place, meaning Will
didn’t seem to have very many personal belongings. There was a small stack of
books on the table near the window, along with a pack of playing cards, a
notebook, a jar of smooth peanut butter and a well-worn blue hoodie slung over
the back of a chair.
It didn’t look as if the boy had had a single visit from a friend or family
member since he’d been admitted. Hannibal knew Alana would have encouraged Will
to reach out to any existing family members if she felt it were in his best
interests, so either his remaining family wanted nothing to do with him or Will
was completely and utterly alone.
Hannibal guessed the peanut butter was the only thing the boy was actually
eating. It was the supermarket-bought kind - that was more sugar and salt than
actual peanuts. Hannibal cringed at the thought of this beautiful creature
being forced to choose between eating store-bought garbage and hospital-made
garbage. He could smell breakfasts being served to other patients on the same
floor and he really couldn’t blame the boy for his fasting. Something would
have to be done about that.
The nurse waved a silent good bye to him. He nodded politely and she left.
He took a moment to appreciate the soft, pale fingers laced between his own
before he finally rose out of his chair with a pained grimace. He placed Will’s
hand on the pillow beside his face and brushed his fingers through the boy’s
still-sweaty mop of hair and felt his forehead. The boy was still too warm but
the fever had definitely broken. He trailed his fingers down a soft cheek and
over dry lips, committing all the wonderful flaws and details of Will’s face to
memory.
He listened intently for any approaching footsteps as he leaned into the boy’s
hair, inhaling softly, appreciatively, sifting through the boy’s sweat, the
stench of hospital and the sweetness of the infection, to find the exquisite
scent that had washed over him as he entered the morgue the night before. It
was a sensation that Hannibal had neither a name nor an adjective to describe
accurately.
“It was a pleasure to meet you again, Will Graham,” he whispered into the boy’s
ear. Will shivered beneath him but he didn’t wake up. “We’ll be seeing a lot of
each other from now on.” he allowed his lips to brush softly against the boy’s
temple and after inhaling one more time he left the room quietly.
 
---
 
Will ran his fingers back and forth along the chair’s arm. The fabric was
scratchy and a little uncomfortable to lean against and it changed colour from
light green to dark green, depending in which way you brushed the fibres. He
sometimes liked to draw patterns in it when he was sitting there, staring out
the window and thinking too much about things that made him anxious. So,
despite how it chaffed his bare elbows like carpet burn, he was actually rather
fond of this therapeutic, scratchy chair. The lingering scent of Dr. Lecter’s
cologne had increased its value ten fold as far as Will was concerned.
He drew a crude green smiling face at the thought but quickly erased it with a
brush of his palm when Dr. Bloom cleared her throat to speak.
They’d spent the first five minutes of this therapy session in silence, as was
always the case. It gave Will time to assess how he was feeling and to decide
what he was and wasn’t willing to discuss with her. It gave Dr. Bloom a chance
to stare at him and gauge his emotional and mental status. Will was never the
first to break their silences.
“Your nurse, Rita tells me that you’re still refusing to eat most meals.” she
said, glancing to the untouched breakfast on the table beside him. There was a
thread of caution in her voice, she knew this subject was a testy one.
Will eyed her where she sat at the foot of his bed. They’re sessions were
usually held in a designated room at the other end of the hospital. A room with
two opposing chairs, soft lighting, boring cream wallpaper and carpet, some
decorative books and a box of tissues. But Will’s therapy sessions were always
scheduled for Tuesdays and this was a Saturday, so the room was otherwise
occupied. They had to make do.
Will had positioned himself in his scratchy green, Dr. Lecter-scented chair
because the idea of being in or on a bed for this felt far too vulnerable. Dr.
Bloom had passed over the chair that Rita had brought for her and had instead
chosen the highest position in the room atop his raised hospital bed. It told
Will that whatever she wanted to talk about she felt he was going to be
abrasive over it and so far that’s exactly how he was feeling.
“The antibiotics make me feel sick.” he replied flatly.
He stared out the window. There was an angry black cloud swelling above them,
it was going to rain heavily soon. He wondered if she had an umbrella.
“They make you feel sick because your stomach is empty,” she paused to assess
whether or not he was even listening to her. “Will, listen to me please?”
It was a request, not a demand, but an authoritative request. He turned to give
her chin his undivided attention.
 
“You need to eat. You need to eat so the medication will work. You need to eat
so your body will have the strength to fight off this infection and you need to
eat so they won’t put you on a feeding drip. Do you understand? You’re not
going to get better if you starve yourself to death.”
He could hear the tremor in her voice, a slight catch of anger in the back of
her throat that she was trying to restrain. She seemed genuinely worried for
him but also entirely frustrated and it made him feel embarrassed and
defensive.
“Did I ever say I wanted to get better?” he snapped before he could stop
himself.
He was sorry for saying it and sorry for the venom in his tone but he wasn’t
sorry enough to take it back. He huffed and turned to leer at that black cloud
again. The air was becoming heavy and the sudden throb in his skull was a
telltale sign that there might be thunder. The two minutes of silence that
followed were awkward. He could feel her eyes boring into him, trying to will
him to see sense. Finally she sighed. Will winced at the exasperation in her
breath.
“Doctor Lecter-“ Will felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end as
the name rolled off her tongue. “-would like to come visit you again.” There
was apprehension in her voice, she’d probably noticed him shivering.
“Is that a problem?” he tried to sound indifferent. She hesitated.
“Not if you’re okay with it.”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” he turned to regard her hands, folded neatly on her lap.
“Will...your discomfort around most people and your reluctance to let anyone
other than Rita attend or treat you hasn’t gone unnoticed and given all that’s
happened that’s perfectly understandable,” she wet her bottom lip. “Before I
add him as a permitted guest. I wanted to be sure...”
Will bristled a little at that, again feeling defensive but she was right and
there was nothing else to be said about it. Being alone in a room with people
he didn’t know, especially men, made him uncomfortable. He didn’t want them
touching or handling him. When there was no alternative but to be treated or
examined by a doctor, Rita stood dutifully by to keep him at ease.
But he didn’t feel that nervousness towards Doctor Lecter. There was a
foundation of trust there already that Dr. Bloom would not understand if he
tried to explain it to her and she would likely disapprove anyway. The man had
stayed by his side for the remainder of the night and into the early hours of
the morning after his incident in the morgue. Will had spent the entirety of
that time in a feverish haze, lying on top of the covers, an electric fan
circulating cold air around the room. His hand was clasping weakly to the
doctor’s, listening to his deep, accented voice speaking beautiful nonsense. He
wasn’t sure if Doctor Lecter had been speaking another language or if the fever
had made him too stupid to comprehend English but whatever the words were they
were soothing. Eventually he lost consciousness and when he awoke, a good
twelve hours later, his fever had broken and the doctor was gone. It hadn’t
even been a full week since then but Will was beginning to worry that he might
never see the man again.
“I’m okay with it.” he said plainly. Excitement and anticipation bubbled
secretly in his stomach.
“Alright. You don’t have to talk to him about anything you don’t want to...but
if you want to, even if you and I have never discussed it, you can talk to him.
You can trust him.”
A cynical grin tugged at the side of Will’s mouth and he narrowed his eyes,
meeting her gaze for the first time.
“Are you worried that I might be auditioning for your replacement or worried
that I might not be?”
He was being vicious today, towards Dr. Bloom in particular. He realised that
but he couldn’t seem to reign himself in. There were times when he couldn’t
stop himself from pushing her, prodding at sore spots. Trying to coax whatever
monster she had hiding behind those sympathetic eyes to the surface - as well
as giving her an excuse to transfer him to another doctor’s care. It was like
some sort of compulsion he couldn’t control. He couldn’t trust her at face
value, he couldn’t trust anyone at face value. Sooner or later they always let
their barriers drop, even for just a fraction of an instant and that was all he
needed to know who they really were beneath their cleverly constructed facades.
Dr. Bloom had never failed his tests though. As far as he could ascertain, she
wasn’t harbouring any monsters.
“I’ve told you before and I’m telling you again now, I am not going to hand you
off to another therapist. That will only happen if you genuinely do not want to
be treated by me anymore. I will not abandon you, Will.”
Now eye contact was impossible again. The guilt he’d been choking down since he
first snapped at her was finally brimming over.
“I’m sorry...” he choked out rather pathetically. He wondered if his apologies
meant anything to her at this stage.
“It’s okay,” she slipped off of the bed and took the chair across from him. She
leaned over so his head was now higher than hers and cautiously reached for his
closest hand. The reflex to flinch away from the touch was there but he
controlled it and allowed her hand to rest on his. “I know what you’re doing
and it’s okay. I understand”
Her eyes were kind and the smile was genuine. He smiled back and nodded his
head. He knew without being able to see himself that it must have looked
strained and awkward but it was the best he could offer her.
A clap of thunder broke the calm between them and he startled away from her.
Her smile softened even more if that were possible and she stood.
“I’ll see you next Tuesday. Please try to eat just a little for me each day
before then?”” she looked hopeful and he didn’t have the heart to turn it into
another stand off. He nodded as honestly as he could. He would try but he
wouldn’t promise anything.
Once she was gone he eyed the neglected breakfast with distain. It had been
sitting there for over an hour and had gone stone cold by now but he could
surely manage to choke down one cold pancake, couldn’t he?
He scowled and took a large bite, hoping to get it over with as soon as
possible. The thing was somehow dry and soggy all at once, it soaked all the
moisture out of his mouth and swallowing it was like swallowing a sponge. He
managed one more bite before his gag reflex started to protest and he dropped
the remains back on the plate. He moved the tray to the small table at the
other side of the room, close to the door, hoping that the next nurse to come
check on him would remove it without a fuss.
He slouched back into the green chair, facing out the window where he could see
that that black cloud had finally burst. A disgusted scowl played across his
face when he couldn’t muster up enough spit to wet his mouth comfortably. He
sipped from a glass of water but the taste of hospital gourmet couldn’t be
washed off his tongue.
With a resigned sigh he closed his eyes and listened to the rain beating down.
He yawned and let his mind wander.
 
---
 
Will startled when suddenly he became aware that he wasn’t in his chair staring
blankly out the window anymore. He swallowed hard and looked around, feeling a
little skittish. He was sitting in a field, on a hill side and it was dark. He
glanced upwards to the full moon and stars overhead and ran his fingers through
the damp grass at his sides. He wasn’t sure if he was dreaming or if he’d
managed to sleepwalk out of the hospital and into a field somewhere. He inhaled
and was taken aback by the unexpected stench of char and smoke but he could see
no fire.
He was about to investigate the odour when he heard an ungodly screech coming
from someways across the field. It was too dark for him to see but he could
hear something running, on gravel or sand by the sound of it, and it was
getting closer. He squinted into the darkness, his heart starting to pound in
his chest. He was afraid and he wanted to run but fear wouldn’t let him move
until he saw what was coming for him.
Another screech sounded and a black figure, too disproportionate and large to
be human, with antlers on top of its head came darting into the moonlight,
making a beeline straight for him. Will’s breath caught in his throat. The
stag-man? The beast shrieked again and Will’s legs made his mind for him. He
scrambled backwards towards the tree that was at the utmost top of the hill,
twisting his ankle and almost tumbling over.
“Stop! Stop! It’s me!” he cried out, the pitch of his voice rising from the
pain in his ankle and the limp it forced upon him. He knew there was no way he
could outrun it, twisted ankle or not.
In his panic he tried to make himself wake up but it wasn’t working. He was
trapped in his head again like the last time but now his saviour had become his
attacker and no one was going to save him this time. The beast lunged, knocked
him to the ground and straddled him. Long claws slashed at him viciously,
mindlessly. It tore through his pajamas and pierced his skin. The warmth of
blood was unmistakeable against the chill of the night air. He cried out and
crossed his arms over his face to protect his eyes.
“Please! Oh God stop! Please! It’s me!” he screamed at the top of his lungs but
the thing ignored him.
He caught a glimpse of its eyes as his arms were knocked away from his face.
They weren’t crimson and fierce anymore, they were black and hollow. They held
no guile, no mirth, no intelligence. It looked at him with a mixture of hunger,
hatred and disgust and it was going to kill him to sate itself.
Will knew this wasn’t reality but the pain felt real and the betrayal felt real
and the notion crossed his frantic mind that if he died here like this he might
never wake up at all. Tears flowed freely down his temples, catching in the
hallows of his ears and his chest began to tighten with the familiar onset of a
panic attack.
Chapter End Notes
     Chapter 3 was actually supposed be Chapter 2 but I felt there was a
     disconnection between them so I wrote this chapter to make them flow
     together...better.
     It's entirely possible that I will wake up tomorrow morning, re-read
     this and think "OMFG WHY DID I POST THIS GARBAGE???" and then replace
     it with a revised version but right this moment my sleepy mind is
     content with this update.
     Next chapter might be posted sooner than this one was....but I
     promise nothing except that it will be posted.
     If you post Hannigram then follow me and I'll follow you back: http:/
     /hannigram-queencakes.tumblr.com
     Kudos and feedback are always appreciated. :)
     Thanks for reading!
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