"Hush, will."
A dark smog filled Will's lungs as he gasped for a breath. He inhaled, feeling the familiar stinging in his chest- The feeling of fluid in his lungs.
His pained eyes screamed through the black abyss, calling-- wanting to be heard.
He tore through the thick mud, fingernails breaking and roots blocking his path until he hit something- Abagail's lifeless face glared at him with a hazy gloss over lifeless beads. Will felt a wave of dread as he realized it was her corpse- the same face he saw in that kitchen.
The same day Hannibal had abandoned him- left him for dead.
"Dad."
Her voice echoed against the hidden walls of his mind.
He felt hands reach up to his head through the mud as he let out a choked moan, attempting to rip his head open- to end this sensation of unrest.
He was unable to tell if they were his fingers, or somebody else's. All he could wish was an end to this nightmare.
"Abagail, " he muttered through the syrupy vapor that settled in his lungs. "I'm not him, I'm not him," he muttered, feeling the stinging sensation in his beclouded eyes. His black orbs danced in their sockets, their lids clamped shut- to keep out the image of bloodied Abagail before him.
"Will,"
Hannibal's voice reached from behind his mind, like a clinging branch of thorns- pulling him backward. He could feel the sun hitting his back like a force was pulling him up from the dark abyssal mud.
He stared with a void expression as Hobbs tore through the mud beside his daughter. Will wanted to scream, to warn the corpse that lay lifeless in front of him. He reached his fingers out and gently caressed the side of her dulled face. He resented the painting in front of him, he resented Garrett Jacob Hobbs. Not for being who he was, but for hurting Abagail.
Will marveled at the thought of hurting a loved one in such a way. Was it possible Hobbs didn't love his daughter enough to cherish her- or did he love her too much to cherish her? Would Will ever end up going down the same path as Hobbs?
He wished he could have taken Abagail away from her father- before he had done what he did.
But he faltered in his thoughts- Abagail's eyes were still and her father had vanished, he decomposed within the darkness of the mud that kept will from breathing.
Will realized-
He wouldn't be a better father than Jacob Hobbs.
He couldn't be.
Will understood he wouldn't be good for Abagail- not when he had such a deep connection with another killer.
"Will, " a deep sigh parted his thoughts. "Focus." Hannibal's voice echoed once again in Will's sanity. He wanted to find Hannibal and destroy the pieces of himself that resided in this man. Will was fearful he would one day be incapable to tell the distinction between Hannibal and his own reflection.
He wanted to alienate himself, run away from his voice- so his conscience wouldn't sound like Hannibal anymore.
Will could feel himself screaming, though he wasn't conscious of it. He could feel the stabbing pain of a needle- in and out- of his skin, but he did not resist.
He could hear a shushing sound of the ocean and the distortion of the waves below him.
He could taste the salt of the sea, mixed with blood and sweat.
He allowed his eyes to open, letting out a painful groan. The sky was dark with clouds of rain as seagulls crowded around their little boat. Will couldn't move enough to see where they were, all he could feel was the crashing of the waves and the needle sewing up his injuries.
"You're not supposed to be conscious, Will," Hannibal muttered under his breath. "You need to be resting," Hannibal murmured, "we took one hell of a beating up there." Will could hear the amusement in his voice. He was unable to see Hannibal below, working on his injuries- it made him uneasy. "It's a little-" Will let out a groan, "-hard to relax when you're stabbing me with that thing." Will heard a small chuckle from Hannibal. "Although you were repeatedly injured by this man, " he sneered, "you still choose to bicker with me for attempting to prevent your death?"
"I'm not dead yet, doctor Lector," Will muttered, he could feel a sense of amusement on his face- his tone of voice sounded drowsy.
"Go back to sleep, Will." Hannibal instructed, "By the time you wake up we will be at our first destination."
"Where are we headed, Hannibal?" Will muttered drunkenly. "We're giving my hometown a visit," he explained, letting out a groan as he stood from the wooden surface. Will glanced up to observe a tired, messy Hannibal. The blood was blackened and crusted around his mouth, his eyes were dark- as if he hadn't slept for a few days. Will's consciousness was fading in and out, he could only watch as Hannibal walked toward him and placed a hand on his flushed forehead. "You're burning up, Will." Hannibal's voice echoed in Will's mind. "Rest-" "I don't want to drown in it anymore, " Will sloppily interrupted. Hannibal crouched beside the beaten Will- "what are you drowning in, Will?" he asked, wiping the drenched brown locks of hair away from Will's forehead. Hannibal picked at the droplets of dried blood that rested on the other's pale face. "Hobbs, " Will muttered, his head resting against the hard wooden surface. His eyelids fell delicately to each other as he lost his last few fibers of consciousness.
* * *
"Will, " a soft warmth hit the side of his cheek. Realizing it was Hannibal's breath, he declined- abruptly turning from the man- then faltering when a shooting pain ran up his neck and into his cheek. "Are you alright, Will?" Hannibal asked, messing with his IVs. "When did you put those things in me?" Will grimaced, looking down at his arm being pumped with fluids. "You've been asleep off and on for nearly two weeks now." Hannibal explained, removing the IV from his wrist, "I've had to keep you hydrated until I knew you were in reasonable condition- no, Will, " Hannibal grabbed Will's unharmed shoulder, stopping him from sitting entirely upright.
"Where are we?" will plead, grabbing Hannibal's arm for support.
"France," Hannibal answered blatantly.
"What?"
"Essonne France to be exact." Hannibal clarified.
"How did we get here?" Will asked, noticing the change in his apparel- Hannibal had dressed him.
"I speculate it's best if some things remain a mystery." He held out his arm, "how 'bout some breakfast?" Hannibal offered- attempting to change the subject.
"What did you make?" Will asked, holding onto the older man for balance as they walked down the small flight of stairs.
"Flaugnarde with Pears," he muttered, directing him into the dining room and assisting him onto the wooden chair.
Hannibal had already made the table as he set the dish in front of Will. "Made with two ripe medium Bartlett pears— peeled, cored, and thinly sliced."
"You made pancakes?" Will asked, picking up his fork.
"Yes," Hannibal stated, clearly irked by Will's oversimplification.
Will hadn't realized how ravenous he had become, his stomach was grumbling and saliva dripped down the side of his lip.
He took a hefty bite, the aroma of the batter and the sweetness of the pear had his eyes closing and his lips curving.
"It's delicious, " Will muttered, shoveling the sweet dish into his mouth.
Hannibal felt a sense of satisfaction seeing Will eat by himself for the first time in two weeks. "I'm glad you enjoy it," he muttered, taking a small bite himself.
"Did you mean it, Will?" Hannibal pondered, gazing at the satisfied brunet.
"Mean what, Doctor Lector?" he asked, looking down at his bruised palms.
"When you said it was Beautiful." he clarified, referring to the event before their plunge.
Will fell silent, a feeling of unease rose upon him.
"I did," he muttered, inaudible.
"Pardon?"
"I did." Will snapped, looking directly into Hannibal's eyes.
Hannibal felt a slight tightening in his chest.
"Good." he sighed, "How did killing alongside me make you feel?" Hannibal consulted, stationing his fork onto his plate.
"Why are you asking me this?" Will spat, "how did it make you feel?"
"Exhilarated, competent." Hannibal answered honestly, "Killing with you felt divine." he gave a small smile- recalling the fierce images of bloodied Will.
Will felt anxious, remembering the unpleasant things they had done together.
Hannibal noticed.
"It isn't anything to be ashamed of, Will." he muttered, standing from his table.
Will scanned the small dining room, empty shelves and sconces that lit up the house.
He felt Hannibal's hands rest on his shoulders. "Where are we? How did you-"
"I have family here, they had property available to us." Hannibal explained, turning to the back door. "Come look outside, Will."
