Chapter Text
7:30 p.m.
Hair cut, shirts pressed, heavy coats draped across his arm- everything was set to echo Hannibal without being too obvious; Will carefully drew the line with no ties and loose buttons.
You are more in control now than you have ever been, Hannibal's voice rang clear in his mind. For once, that didn't bother him. This was his way in.
Taking a deep breath, Will rapped sharply against the door. He timed this moment precisely. It was 7:30 p.m. on the dot. He thought Hannibal would appreciate the punctuality.
He waited, and waited.
Nothing happened. The door remain closed.
For a second, Will wondered if Hannibal was not in the office, but he could hear the faint swell of classical music behind the door. Was Hannibal ignoring him? Slightly unnerved, Will stepped forward to knock one more time.
Before his knuckles could brush against the hard surface, the door flung open with enough force to make it hit the bookshelf, rattle the nearby picture frame into crashing, and swing back into Hannibal's waiting hand.
Will froze on the spot, never having expected so much noise from the office.
Hannibal stood in front of him, disarrayed, hand white knuckled against the door. His hair and clothes were as perfect as ever, but there was something frayed in his eyes. Uncharacteristic desperation clung to them.
"Will," Hannibal breathed, as if he was seeing a ghost.
Will didn't know how to react. He hadn't even known that Hannibal could be anything other than infuritatingly impeccable.
"Will," Hannibal said again, emotion filled to the brim and now freely spilling. His eyes roamed all over Will, drinking in his presence like a man finding oasis after long march across the desert. The coveting stare seemed to last forever before Hannibal finally closed his eyes, took a step back, and then another. "Please, come in."
His voice sounded shaky despite the obvious control the man was trying to exert over himself. Something had cracked Hannibal open. Or, Will thought somewhat desperately, maybe this was all just an act. Hannibal was supposed to be unpredictable in a predictable way and this wasn't like him. Not at all.
Will hesitated over the threshold, knowing that the one thing more dangerous than a predator was a cornered one. However, there was no way Will could tuck his tail between his legs and go back home empty handed. If Hannibal was acting strangely, he needed to know why.
Will stepped inside the office, feeling like he had been upstaged even before the curtain went up. Behind him, he could hear Hannibal shutting the door and fussing over the fallen items, which was clearly a ploy to buy more time. As Will also needed the time to regroup, he looked around the office instead of calling him out.
Red amidst the gray snagged his eyes, leading him to the broken glasses and spilled wine on the floor.
"Did I surprise you?" Will asked as he turned, although he couldn't imagine Hannibal doing something as pedestrian as dropping a glass in surprise.
"Hmm?" Hannibal asked, carefully adjusting the angle of the frame just so. He noticed Will's line of sight and said, "Ah, in a way."
Surprised by the admission, Will raised his brow. He didn't, however, ask any further questions. He was here to lure Hannibal in, not to discuss his butterfingers. Just the same, he couldn't help but feel a bit resentful. If Hannibal hadn't bursted into uncharacteristic emotionalism, the two of them would be well into the smooth game of cat and mouse by now. Will had painstakingly planned ahead for tonight's session, and now all he had was a shredded script.
"How may I help you tonight?" Hannibal asked, voice returned to its usual calmness. He appeared to be still obsessed with the frame.
Will considered his options.
"I'd like to resume my therapy," he said, going straight to the point.
Hannibal let go of the frame to straighten his jacket instead. He turned, meeting Will's eyes at last.
"One would say that's a peculiar request," Hannibal observed.
"I have to deal with you and my feelings about you. I thought it'd be best if I dealt with it directly."
"Yes, very reasonable," Hannibal said. Contemplatively he added, "However, if you want to resume your therapy, I have a condition."
"A condition?"
"You tried to kill me, Will. I have a reason to be precautious."
Will hadn't expected Hannibal to ask for more. The man had looked desperate to regain his friendship in the BSHCI after all.
In retrospect, he should've realized Hannibal would try to milk every situation for all its worth.
"What do you want?" Will asked, trying hard not to grit his teeth.
"Nothing strenuous," Hannibal said. "I just want you to spend the next 24 hours with me."
Will took a moment to mull over how absurd the request sounded.
"I tried to kill you, and you want me to stick around?"
"I've always been drawn to unorthodox therapy."
"What if I refuse?"
"Then I'd have to leave. Pack up and disappear."
Hannibal smiled at Will's disbelieving look, gentle as the Devil. There was no trace of the weakness that Will thought to have glimpsed a moment ago.
"The Chesapeake Ripper has been caught, Will. There's no obligation for me to help the case any further," Hannibal explained ever so calmly. "After all, I had been harassed by the FBI and almost died because of it. No one would blame me if I wanted to put everything behind and leave."
"You're sincere," Will numbly observed.
Hannibal nodded. "24 hours, that's all I ask."
Will's stomach knotted at the idea of Hannibal disappearing. It'd be one thing if Hannibal left, never to darken Will's doorstep again, but no, that would be too much to hope for. He knew that the shadow of Hannibal would haunt him until the inevitable day Hannibal would slip back into his life, at which point everyone else would be none the wise for the good doctor's true nature.
With a sinking feeling, Will realized that he should've killed Hannibal while he had the chance. Now, even if he were to kill Hannibal, he wouldn't be able to excise the part of himself that Hannibal had twisted. That part would only grow darker from the experience.
Will schooled his features.
"It's not like you to give an ultimatum, Dr. Lecter."
"Is it not?"
"You're usually more subtle than this. Ultimatum is for desperate men," Will said, cocking his head. "Are you one now, Dr. Lecter?"
Hannibal looked at him, fond and proud and something like dark torrent of water in his eyes. "You're dangerous, Will. I need to make sure."
"That you can still make me dance?"
"That I can withstand you for a full day."
Will didn't know which would be more unnerving, that Hannibal was faking his vulnerability, or that he was being truthful.
"I need to feed my dogs," Will said as a last ditch effort.
"We could eat dinner at my house, and drive to yours." Hannibal shrugged, the gesture incongruously casual on him. "I don't care where as long as you're with me."
Will closed his eyes and opened them again slowly.
"Alright," he said. It felt like striking a Devil's bargain.
But then again, when wasn't it when it concerned Hannibal Lecter?