Moments
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“Will… darling… you can’t sleep there. Come into the bedroom and let me see to your hand.” The voice filtered through the ex profiler’s consciousness, wrapping around him like a blanket. Blearily, he opened his eyes, trying to clear his vision as he looked around, confused as to what had woken him. The dark shape of a man crouched before him, reaching outward as if to shake his shoulder. Will let out a startled cry, trying to scramble back from the outstretched hand as if it would burn him. The figure stilled, slowly lowering the arm before speaking.
“Hello, darling,” it murmured, the voice so achingly familiar, it made Will want to weep. “I was waiting for you in bed, but I must have fallen asleep. I didn’t hear you come in, but you cried out in your sleep.”
Series
- Part 1 of Moments
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[06:42PM] Hi Hannibal. I know it’s a long shot, but is there any chance you have time for a session tonight?
Unwilling to wait like a besotted school girl, Will tossed the phone onto the couch and padded to his room, his mind on the hot water of a shower. The ping that sounded turned his blood to ice in his veins. He willed himself to adjust the water temperature before walking calmly into the other room to retrieve his cell. The wait did nothing to calm his nerves. Hardly daring to hope, he unlocked the screen and read the message, heart in his throat.
[06:44PM] Hello, Will. As it happens, I am fortuitously unoccupied for the evening. To what do I owe the pleasure of an additional session this week? -H
A rough week leads to an advantageous opportunity to explore an alterative form of therapy.
Series
- Part 2 of Moments
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Since he had been old enough to pick up a pen, Hannibal had taken a keen interest in compiling his thoughts on paper. It began with scraps of parchment he managed to pilfer from his uncle’s study in Lithuania, hidden beneath his mattress once they were completed. He often found his mind drifting as he wrote, only to come to his senses with hours missing and sheafs of prose he didn’t remember penning. When his family discovered his proclivities, they supplied him with tools of his own, the admonishments for wasting his uncle’s good parchment dying in their throats when they read the accounts of the deaths of his mother and father. Their pity proved to fuel his habits, and the quality of his materials grew exponentially as his habit grew to an art form.
Hannibal Lecter has kept a journal for years, expanding his knowledge by keeping notes on the interesting comings and goings in his life.
For the first time in a long time, he finds need to add an entry to the pages he keeps for his very personal thoughts.
Series
- Part 3 of Moments
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“I was hoping we could talk.” Will snorted and took a fortifying sip from the crystal tumbler still clutched in his fingers. His hand shook; it was a wonder he hadn’t dropped the glass. He gripped it as if it were his last anchor holding him in place and let the cool liquid slide into his throat, setting off a gentle bomb in his stomach as it hit. He hadn’t gotten around to eating. It didn’t seem important anymore. Nothing really did.
“We have nothing to discuss."
Series
- Part 4 of Moments
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Hannibal’s keyring slipped from his damp hands, clattering to the ground just as he selected the correct key that would permit him into his home. He bent to scoop them up, dismally remonstrating how much he detested being trapped outdoors and unprepared in a downpour. It wasn’t that he hated the rain; quite the opposite in fact. As long as he wasn’t trapped without a roof over his head, he enjoyed the fury of nature and her ever-changing moods.
When Hannibal invites Will over to spend the evening together, the rain pouring down around them sets the mood for more.
Series
- Part 5 of Moments
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“Do you remember the first thing you said on the day we met?” Will looked up from his meal to find Hannibal twirling his fork between his fingers, the maroon and gold of his eyes melding together as he gazed out at the lights in the distance. The look on his face was very carefully neutral; it was as if he expected to keep the former profiler from understanding his every mood. It had been many months since they had discussed any part of the life that existed before; it was no longer necessary for them to do so.
And what brings it to the forefront now I wonder, and with such a look of trepidation to accompany it?
Several months after their escape from Baltimore, Will and Hannibal discuss life, love and the possibility of forever together.
Series
- Part 6 of Moments
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All around him, the world slept on; Will kept silent watch, his mind wandering aimlessly through the events of the past year. When he took the time to think, it never ceased to amaze him how much his life had truly changed. The man responsible for his becoming was still asleep in the wreckage of their bed; exhausted from the passionate lovemaking that had hardly ceased since their arrival in Florida for their spontaneous weekend adventure. Even after a year together, their hunger for one another had yet to dissipate; the hot, balmy weather of the South only seemed to have exacerbated their appetites.
The trip had been Hannibal’s idea, proposed to him two nights before as they lay in one another’s arms on the couch. Will had gone to great lengths to choose the right hotel. It wasn’t the only one along the beach that had open balconies, but it was the tallest, and had the most unobstructed view of the water. He had fallen in love with it when perusing their options online, and Hannibal had solidified his choice at a glance, even with the astronomical price tag.
Series
- Part 7 of Moments
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“If I saw you every day forever, Will. I would remember this time.”
Will’s eyes mimicked Hannibal’s own hungry gaze, taking in every inch of the doctor’s skin like a man stumbling upon an oasis after being relegated to a desert wasteland for years. Every scratch, every ache, every bit of broken flesh and worry seemed lessened in the wake of the perfect, steady gaze that burrowed into his very soul. He wet his lips and opened his mouth, giving his heart a chance to take the reins before his mind got in the way.
“It's strange seeing you here in front of me,” he murmured, a low chuckle escaping the confines of his throat. “I’ve been staring at after images of you in places you haven’t been in years.”
My version of a fix-it for how this moment in time should have gone. Hannibal and Will find forgiveness in one another in Florence.
Series
- Part 8 of Moments