D E V O U R || HANNIGRAM // continuation

Chapter 12: A Calling

Lights had streamed in, illuminating a unique shade of red behind Wills closed eyes. Not surprising on how he didn't remember anything except waking up and facing the long and ominous corridor before him just through those double doors in the vacant Hospital. His bare feet were sliding forward as his right hand seemingly hooked up to an IV and drip had dragged the cool metallic pole alongside him.

It may have been near dark but what little Will could see as he continued on was all lit up as like the glow of morbid arrows guiding his way as he kept dragging himself along the path. Eyes did not take into what drew him to look elsewhere other than straight ahead, so he did exactly that as his body, draped in a polka-dotted medical gown, stood firm yet loose with overwhelming exhaustion. Wills walk; sluggish and ill.

Approaching the end of the hall, he saw him sitting there cross-legged and of straight posture. The hand sitting upon the knee that topped his other had been drumming slender fingers as he'd eagerly await Will merely 10 feet ahead.

As usual, Hannibal seemed pacient but something informed him otherwise as the careful rhymthic drum counted like the tick-tocking clock hanging over his head; encircled in an majestic ring of light. The sound was eerie, slow and met ironically with eahc calculated step Will had become unaware of taking as he drowned himself in the view before him. Stepping closer and closer until he found the words tumbling out of his dry mouth as an elevator sitting like a sore thumb underneath this ticking time had opened with one final tick that collided with a ding.

A long flow of water unfolded from within, gushing out in small waves. This look; all too familiar but somehow different than what Wil could recall as the water did not appear red but instead crystal and called on his thirst while sweeping along the marbled floor; underneath Hannibals chair. Fingers had stopped drumming and it seemed all time stood still.

A faint beeping reeled itself into his ears; loud. Thunderous upon his eardrums but faint somehow. Hearing it, there was a light that made him blink; eyes opening, lashes fluttering like soft wings that allow his eyelids to take flight as his vision flew at him all at once. Through the grey, dim-lit blur, he saw Hannibal sitting in a chair beside him with his head crookedly placed along the back. Will moved and a disgruntled scoff pressed by his mouth with such little effort in trying to inch his head sidelong to catch what the vision threw at him.

Will didn't doubt that this was Hannibal, in fact; he were very fortunate it had been despite what may have occured before hand.

"What..time is it?" Will asked monotone.

Hannibal had opened his own set of eyes then reeled himself upward properly, the hand resting upon his knee brushed along his pants leg as he turned his focus to the place on the other side of the patient bed where Will laid; still.

"4:14 PM." Hannibal answered with a quiet tone, leaning in to the bed then casually as he'd study Grahams features with a study that nearly any student would be forced to attend for a higher grade. Not necessarily saying Hannibal is by any means a student when it came to knowing Will Graham; testing his face in deep examination.

"I had thought on your waking up later today and not now, Will." Hannibal pointed out, drawing his attention away from his face just a moment to catch the others eyes. Will looked away across the room infront of him, the TV that had been off revealed two distorted figures in the dim, fish-eyed screen.

"The way you say it, makes it sound like a relatively /bad/ thing. I really had no intentions of waking up at all." Will returned his eyes, with an intense squint. His left hand had rose to press ever so lightly upon the bandage bulging from atop the side of his forehead.

Hannibal gave him a reassuring grin that decipated like the last drop of rain on a dry summer. "You were in a coma for an unfair amount of days, Will."

"How long?"

"Seven. Not including this evening, if you were to be out then, as well. It'd make up for the eight."

"And you?"

Hannibal tilted his head , drawing out his curiousity of what Will may have meant for a moment before tiredly replying: "I've been in and out, to say the least. It appears that our nosy Run-In with the Special Agent; Clarice Starling had came to some good in what bad had happened last Saturday."

"Clarice? Are you referring to the woman- at Claridges?"

Hannibal nods.

"Hannibal."

"Yes, Will. Needless to say," The older man began, looking off elsewhere to gather his thoughts together in an outward postive demeanor; hoping to not bring any illness to the returning of an awakening, "Brandon could not have possibly settled things better than what she could have that evening." Schooling his face to appear dull and emotionless, Hannibal returned his eyes to the other.

"What happened?"

"You killed a man," he mentioned dully, stepping around Molly all together, "my intentions were to kill him for you yet you stood in the way of the target. By doing this, the bullet shot your temple and I am immensely grateful that it had not traveled farther or you would not be here today."

"So what now? Since I'm recovered- am I going to be sentenced for murder?"

"No. Your shooting Bill Avery was in defense to Molly." Hannibal sensed his response would trigger a nerve and he readily prepared himself for any outburts but the air grew stale; full of lethal silence.

Then; "Molly?"

"Bill Avery shot and murdered Molly, in turn, you shot and murdered Bill Avery at the instant I arrived after getting off of the phone with another man speaking in cryptic riddles and utter stupidity;" Hannibal adjusted his posture, "I took for the Janitors closet to find that the second shot you had fired, I fired as well. Avery had been knocked off balance and I proceeded to watch as you kept firing your gun-- bleeding profusely-- only then did I witness that I had indeed shot you, coincidently, as you had shot Bill Avery."

Will blinked, raising his left hand to wipe at the warm sweat warping over his brow.

"It was Molly's gun. She," Will inhaled before attempting at continuing, closing his eyes off to remember but having to force himself further back into his psyche to the smell of blood. "She came to London under the impression that she could reach me. She was going to kill me; I think. But I'm not entirely sure," Will lowered his hand and pressed his lips together tight.

After a moment; "Freddie /Lounds/ went to her door to deliver a few papers that Molly referred to as: Bold /red/ headlines?" His statement came crawling out like a question, as if he could only hope that Hannibal could understand everything there was that he were trying to say and everything he were trying to say before even speaking on them.

Will didn't really want to talk about it. Looking at Hannibal, he'd give out a long, exasperated sigh.

"I thought she was dead. That can only mean one thing, Hannibal."

"You're right, Will. It was not Molly being tracked down and killed. 'There's a lot more to the story than what meets the eye'," He'd say, repeating the words spoke to him on the phone nearly two months ago.

"It's Willy."

Their eyes meet for a shudder of a moment, shared in silence as their train of thought were quietly exchanged.

"Your son is in danger. What's there to be done about that?" Hannibal questioned, Will could hear the testing in this mans voice. He wasn't not used to this already.

Will knew what he was going on about, he'd be a fool not to.

"We find this man. We kill him." Will snarled.

"Our Albert has been exceedingly rude. Hasn't he, Will?"

Will merely nods, his eyes hadn't moved from Hannibals for what seems like the longest before he notes this and turns away.

"Even Steven." He added, suddenly convinced this was all it took to persuade him that this was their calling among other calls that so desperately needed answering.