Chapter Text
Will Graham
Baltimore, Maryland - 13:08pm.
A week had passed since their return to the country. Will had been annoyed that he had to leave England and the friends he had made there, citing a family emergency. It had been harder to leave that life compared to leaving America. John, Charles and Danny had been texting him daily, it was comforting. Letting him forget that he was living with Hannibal for a while.
The fact that he'd been handcuffed had angered him. The previous rotator cuff injury had been agitated from the duration he had been in the position. When the feeling in his entire arm had gone, he begged for the removal of the cuffs. He'd held his arm tightly against him until it slowly came back. A pinched nerve causing the loss of sensation.
The pain hadn't yet gone away. Each time he tried to use his arm only caused a shock of pain if he moved it too far from his body. Raising his arm above his head had become difficult again, reminding him of the time he spent in hospital after being injured as a police officer. The countless nights he would spend muffling his own cries of pain, when the deep pulsing throb inside of his shoulder wouldn't relent. Countless hours of lost sleep, making him irritable.
Hannibal was a former doctor, he would have known what keeping his arm locked in one position would do. The pain it would cause. Unless that was the point. For the doctor to see the way his arm would begin to violently shake for simply holding a glass for too long. Surely he noticed? The way Will tried to hold his shoulder up, his normal shoulder laying every so slightly lower in a more natural position.
Did Hannibal enjoy watching when his grip would suddenly give out and he dropped things? It hurt more than he wanted it to, if Hannibal found joy in his pain.
When Hannibal had invited him into his home, he initially refused. Wanting to return to Wolf Trap but when the man insisted, he gave in. Not for Hannibal’s sake. For his own. He planned on annoying the man to no end, he made a vow of silence. He wasn't going to speak to Hannibal so he understood each loss.
Was it petty? Yes.
But it was for his own satisfaction.
At first, he had started small. Hiding pens and pencils. Slipping them into his pockets and putting them in the bathrooms, inside kitchen drawers. Each time Hannibal would find one, the man would let out an exasperated sigh. Will couldn't help but feel satisfied but eventually it wasn't going to be enough, he would have to escalate.
On the third day, he moved onto cutlery and plates. Though not as satisfying, he would watch the way Hannibal would grip whatever utensil he was holding slightly tighter. Will would hide a smirk when the man would turn around to look at him. He would flash a small smile before leaving the kitchen, messing around with the kitchen had pissed Hannibal off the most.
Though meals had been met with a stalemate. Will was adamant on not eating any meat products prepared for him. Hannibal refused to let the man leave the table without eating what was on his plate. Each time it was tense, with neither giving up. It was becoming an exhausting routine, although the food prepared was delicious. Will didn't trust that the meat wasn't a person. Through sheer stubbornness, Will would always leave the dinner table without finishing the meal. Partially for the control he needed. His actions were made purely from spite despite how insatiably rude they were, he couldn't find it in himself to care.
Walking up to the study, walking to the chair by the window before sitting down. He missed his dogs and friends, he shouldn't have agreed to come back. He watched as Hannibal slowly followed him, sitting in the other chair with a sketch book as he pulled out a pencil. Hannibal had made a habit of sitting with him in order to draw him.
Gazing out of the window as he carefully began to exercise his shoulder. Doing the movements that were engraved in his mind from countless physiotherapy sessions. There was frustration on his part as the pain would strike him, biting his lip to prevent making any noise. It wouldn't be easy but he had to work the injury all over again.
Hannibal Lecter.
Since bringing Will back the man hadn't uttered a word. It was clear that he was unhappy with his return, though there was clearly more on the man's mind than he was letting on. When the look of total panic had washed over Will's face a week ago, Hannibal knew he had gone over the limit. The intention wasn't to hurt him, when it was mentioned that his arm was numb he removed the cuffs quickly. Instead of his regular pale skin, his arm had a hue of purple to it. A lack of blood supply, though he had known of the shoulder injury. He was under the impression it had fully healed.
Through the last week he had noticed the way Will seemed to guard his shoulder. How it was slightly elevated from its natural position, to keep it from pulling unnecessarily. The way Will's arm would shake while trying to perform a task or when he'd suddenly drop things was heartbreaking. The guilt from causing the flare up was breaking him.
Though Will wouldn't let him close enough to help, all medications he offered were left alone. The boy was incredibly stubborn, although exhausting. Hannibal was still trying to help. On the nights he heard muffled cries it took all his willpower to not go through and comfort the man. It simply wasn't his place unless Will directly asked for help.
Hannibal had been sure to hide all of the sharp knives. Not wanting to risk getting stabbed or risking Will dropping a knife while they ate. The scalpels were safely locked away in his study. Keeping them both safe from injury, despite his face still being bruised from Will's previous outburst. It was fading slowly, the wounds on the other man's hands were almost completely gone.
When pens and pencils suddenly went missing then appeared in random places, he knew it was Will messing with him. By the third day, things had started going missing from inside the kitchen. Although irritating, he expected some push back. If hiding things was the way he coped then Hannibal would let him. It would bring a smile to the man's face which was a privilege to witness.
As Hannibal followed behind Will into the study, grabbing a sketchbook and pencil before sitting himself down. He opened to a blank page in order to draw Will, instead of having conversations. It had turned into silence, the only sounds coming from lead etching onto the paper. As his eyes flickered between canvas and muse he noticed the way Will was carefully exercising his shoulder.
“You know. Taking the painkillers would help. I would inspect the injury if you let me.” Glancing at Will to see if the man would finally speak. When he was met with silence he carefully put down the sketch book and pencil. “Your shoulder is bothering you. Let me help you.”
Will Graham.
Will couldn't help but roll his eyes as he stopped moving his shoulder. It had only been a few minutes but the joint was aching. “Yeah. State the obvious.” Mumbling as he stood up, heading towards the door so he could leave the study. “I don't want you to touch me. For all I know you'll just cuff me again. I can't trust that you won't drug me either. Like you did to force Abigail’s ear down my throat? Did you happen to forget that? I want to go home.”
Leaving the study as he walked towards the bedroom he'd been staying in for the last week. Stepping inside of the room, shutting the door. Walking to the bed so he could sit down. When they had returned to America, Hannibal kept his passport. Only getting his phone for an hour a day to text his friends. He didn't know what plan Hannibal had but he sure as hell wasn't going to fall for it.
Without Winston and Max, the isolation was lonelier than ever. Maybe he'd be able to contact Freddie? She'd done what he asked once before, maybe she'd help him again? Alana would fake being nice and ask thousands of questions. He got Jack fired, that was bound to be a headache. Freddie was the most logical choice, he just had to find a way to contact her.
A knock on the door brought him out of his thoughts. “Come in.” He called out, watching as the door opened to reveal Hannibal with a tray and two cups. The smell of coffee hitting his nose, giving Hannibal a small smile as he retrieved a cup. “Thank you.”
Hannibal Lecter.
Once Will had left the study, he went and prepared a coffee for them both. It was hard for him to watch Will suffer when he could help, though the situation had been his fault. The constant rejections were making him want to keep the man inside his home forever. A small apology wasn't ever going to be enough. No matter what he did.
As he carried the coffee to the bedroom he smiled softly as Will allowed him to enter. Taking a seat beside the bed as he looked at him. “I really am sorry Will. I just can't be without you. I wrote these whilst you were gone. I want you to read them.”
Pulling out the envelopes and placing them beside Will. Wanting him to understand that his feelings were real. Not just lies to fill his head. “I missed you and I just want you to choose me. I couldn't stop thinking about you. Please read them. I'll wait for you in the study.”
Will Graham.
As Hannibal stood up to leave, he grabbed the man's wrist to stop him. “Stay. I don't want to be alone right now.” Watching the doctor sit back down, he took one of the envelopes. Opening it up to read, scanning his eyes over the paper before moving to the next one. He'd seemingly hurt Hannibal just as much as the doctor had hurt him.
Placing them down as he looked at Hannibal, he did feel bad but he was still so angry with him. There was nothing in the world that could change the past, though the letters had shown him something that he didn't expect. “How can you expect me to forgive you for all of it? I'm here with you but we have hurt each other enough. I want the truth at all times if we are going to work on it. It will take time for me to trust you. I don't even know if it's possible to trust you.”
Hannibal Lecter.
Listening to Will placed some hope in his heart, he knew that it wasn't going to be easy to gain his trust again but he was willing to do whatever the man wanted to help. It wasn't a full acceptance but it was probably more than he deserved. He couldn't let this opportunity go.
“I don't expect forgiveness and I don't want you to apologise. I deserved all you did to me. I will tell you the truth from now on. No more lies from you either.” Carefully taking Will's hand into his, placing a soft kiss to his knuckles. As if to seal his promise. Giving the man's hand a soft squeeze whispering quietly as a thanks to Will. He didn't deserve the opportunity to earn forgiveness but Will had always been forgiving for others. However he couldn't let Will leave the property without him, the fear of him running away was still there.
He'd arrange for them to leave America, going to England was too great a risk. Perhaps moving to one of his other properties in Europe would suffice? Will wouldn't agree to it. So maybe knocking him unconscious would be the best option. Away from anyone who could possibly take Will away from him. He wouldn't lose him, not again.