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"Where are you hiding, my love?
Cast off like a stone. Feelings
Raw and exposed when I'm out of control
Pieces were stolen from me
But dare I say, given away
Watching the water give in
As I go down the drain
I appear missing now"
Queens Of The Stone Age - I Appear Missing
He blinked and it was gone. But as Will scrambled to the edge of the bed to look over, the drops of blood still remained. He blinked, shook his head to wake himself.
The drops didn't disappear.
Will groaned, twisted and wrung out between the hands of fear and frustration. A resoluteness overtook him, stole him back from those hands. He mechanically pulled on his boots at the side of his bed and grabbed his coat on the way to the door. One of his dogs raised its head and gave him a questioning look, to which Will didn't respond.
He stepped out into the cold, cold night air and fished his car keys out of the coat pocket. The stars winked down on him as Will fired up his car and pulled out of his driveway and set upon the road. He wasn't quite sure where he was going, but as he took the ramp to the interstate, it became clear where he was being taken.
Will pulled up a couple hours later in front of Hannibal's house.
He seemed to come out of his stupor then, his spine straightening violently, hands gripping the wheel. This was beyond idiotic. Hell, this was downright childish, to show up at his psychiatrist's house at - Will glanced at the digital clock in his dashboard - 12:57 A.M. He threw the gearshift into reverse and turned in the bucket seat to back out of the driveway, but his foot wouldn't move off the gas pedal. Will remembered how Hannibal had described him as a friend. A friend.
Maybe it wasn't suitable for a patient to drop in on his psychiatrist in the wee hours of the morning... but a friend? There was an idea.
Will put his car in park and turned it off, stepping out and pocketing his keys. He was conscious of the volume the door made as he pushed it closed. Looking up at the house, it seemed a crouching predator in the dark. And there were indeed lights on in the windows - a conscious predator in the dark, then.
There was a heavy sense of dread and imposition in Will's chest when he knocked on the wide door. Three reports, then a silence fell around him. Indiscernible noise from inside, then the door did open.
"Will, good morning. What a surprise," Hannibal said, pleasant as ever. Even dressed in his robe and pajamas with slightly rumpled hair, the good doctor was the picture of grace. Will suddenly felt dirty in more than one way, thoroughly tarnished and smelling faintly of sweat.
"I, uh. I couldn't sleep," The only thing Will could think to say.
"Of course, I would not expect you could drive while unconscious," Hannibal opened the door and stepped aside, "Do come in then, it's cold tonight."
Will obeyed somewhat stiffly, his boots crossing the threshold with a dull, unspirited sound. He shrugged off his coat and before he could look for a place to put it, Hannibal had seized it with gentle hands. It was placed on the coat rack where it hung like the shed skin of a barn snake. Will remembered having his mind torn apart by psychotropic drugs then slowly having it reconstructed in this house and falling asleep on the lap of Hannibal like a child.
Hannibal caught the strand of the memory and pulled on it. "I won't feed you anything questionable, that I can promise you," he led the way into the study and motioned for Will to sit. Will obeyed.
"I have to ask, though: what is the true reason you come to me this morning? Dreams?"
Will's eyes shone sullen beneath his brows like those of a fighting bull - the doctor noticed.
"...Or is it something different? Something deeper?" Hannibal remained standing, his arms crossed before him.
Will heaved a sigh.
"I think the scan was wrong."
Hannibal sinks into the chair opposite Will, mirroring their positions previous. Ever the same.
"And what makes you so sure of this?" Calm, black-red eyes leveled at the other man.
Will gave a small laugh into the space between them, sarcastic grin splitting his face. "Well, it is my mind, I'm the one in contact with it at all times. I know it. It's me. And it's been different - worse, lately. I... I've been different lately. It's never been this bad."
Hannibal shook his head. Will's heart plummeted to his feet; the one man he thought would understand just denied him. "Will, I have to assure you of the veracity of that test, it was the most up-to-date equipment and the best doctors. They found nothing."
Hannibal stood and Will panicked, opening his mouth before the doctor could force him to leave. His home wasn't safe anymore.
"But- but, I saw it again tonight but it disappeared. That was nothing new but there was blood on its nose and wh-when it flew away there was blood on the floor and it didn't affect me then when I saw it but now-"
There were hands resting on his thighs now, a warm weight circling slowly. Hannibal was on his knees before Will on the couch. "Calm yourself, dear Will. No one is here but you and me."
Only after the doctor said something did Will notice he was hyperventilating, chest heaving. He had to remind himself where he was, focus on the comforting feeling of Hannibal's presence before him and he slowly felt the panic clear away like a fog moving out. It was then he noticed his own hands were on Hannibal's shoulders, one wrapped around to rest at the back of the doctor's neck just below his hairline.
Will pulled back quickly, tired out. His arms fell to his sides on the couch. Hannibal retained his position, patiently peering at the other man. "I am not sure who you were referring to," (oh please he can't know about HIM!! Will thought frantically,) "but I'm fairly certain this would be the source of the blood that so alarmed you," Hannibal pressed gently against a shallow cut above Will's knee. The blood there was the dark of dried and bore smear marks on the surrounding skin. Of course.
Hannibal drew himself up to his full height. "I do not want to play strict parent, but I would advise against returning to your home tonight, Will. You are staying in one of my guest rooms - after a bath of course. I have to insist."
Will, drained, raised an eyebrow. "A bath? What, are you my stable groom now?"
Lesser comments had garnered harsher punishments, if Will only knew. But Hannibal only raised his eyebrows. "Someone has to take care of you. Come along."
Hannibal stalked off up the stairs of his home and Will stood to follow. A headrush hit him from standing up too quickly, dotting his vision with splashes of wild color against black. Will had to brace his hands against bent knees, breathing deeply until the feeling passed. He stood and followed the doctor's path, hearing water running.
Will stepped into an immaculate white bathroom. Hannibal had shed his robe, revealing dark blue pajamas. It seemed out of place to see the dignified doctor on his knees beside the white porcelain tub, dipping a hand in to test the temperature. Will stood uncomfortably in his too-small shirt and shorts, suddenly realizing he should have changed before bolting out of his house. The doctor shut off the taps and wrung his hands out above the surface. Will's hands fluttered with the hem of his shirt.
Hannibal nodded at Will, sensing his hesitation. “Go on.”
Momentary blindness as Will pulled his shirt over his head. The damp air of the bathroom clung heavily to his bare skin. Hannibal rose and took the sweat-soaked thing from Will's hands, fingers brushing. Will moved towards the tub and dragged his fingers across the water's surface. It was pleasantly warm, just hot enough. He could feel Hannibal's eyes on him as he hooked his thumbs in his shorts and pulled them down, down, stepping out then in the water. He sunk until his head rested against the edge of the tub. Will sighed and closed his eyes, the knot of tension in his chest slowly unwinding, half exhausted from delirium. The dried blood from the cut on his leg was slowly washing away.
He could hear Hannibal approach and pick up his shorts and then retreat, presumably to set Will's clothes on the clean sink. Footsteps approached and stopped next to Will as Hannibal sank to his knees again. Long fingers came up to brush against Will's cheek and Will leaned into the touch. The fingers trailed up to comb through the other man's curls, nails grazing against scalp.
“Dear Will, you must learn to trust those around you, this includes medical professionals.”
Will couldn't help a snort, a derisive blink of his eyes open. Hannibal looked supremely focused. “Trust? There is a base level I have for them to do their job correctly, I just don't think it was done right this time.”
Hannibal's other hand came dip down into the water and rest on Will's shoulder. “Do you trust me?”
A beat, then Will's brow furrowed, jaw fell open in a breathless, honest yes.
Hannibal's great arms flexed and pushed, exerted force downward and Will was slipping beneath the water's surface. Will's eyes flung themselves open and he let out a silent yell of pain as Hannibal's fingers knotted in his hair. Bubbles floated up to the surface in a great welling from his mouth, Will squirmed at Hannibal's grasp fiercely but he was held fast. Realizing this, he held what remaining beneath he had and stilled, trying to catch a glimpse of the doctor's expression. Hannibal was hard to read through the shifting layers of water, a scissoring of images overlapping and sliding together.
And just as he let his last breath go in a stream of bubbles, Hannibal's hands tightened on him and he was lifted up above the water. Will lurched forward to cough and spit up water before turning to glare at Hannibal. He saw the doctor had a strange look of calm on his face, pajama top soaked through in the arms and chest. Will kept his wary eyes on the doctor as a hand was reached out to him, palm up. Against all his better judgment, Will took it and resumed his first position against the edge of the tub. Will's chin was cupped in a wide hand and a cheek pressed against his wet hair. His throat was exposed, yet again.
Lips at his ear, “Believe me, dearest, when I tell you there is nothing wrong with your brain. Your mind, however, may be a more treacherous landscape. I am here to help you navigate.”
Will turned in the bathtub quickly, turning to face Hannibal. He gripped the man's powerful forearms through his soaked shirt and leaned forward, lips crashing against the doctor's. For a moment, Hannibal didn't move or react. Will felt a momentary flicker of fear that he had angered him. But Hannibal pressed back against him with a ferocity that surprised the other man, breaking Will's grip on him with a circling of his wrists. Hannibal opened his mouth to Will and Will tasted him potently (wine and sleep – Dionysus would be pleased) and his hands skated beneath the water to grip at the naked man's hips. Will heard a weight slither over the edge of the tub and a fully clothed Hannibal was in his space, hands trailing over Will's body beneath the water. He registered the rashness of the man's actions right as sharp teeth bit down on his lower lip and a warm trickle seeped down his chin.
“Your... your clothes...” Will managed to wheeze out as Hannibal was adamantly sucking a mark on Will's neck.
A growl, then Hannibal's tongue following the trail of blood up Will's neck and chin. “Nevermind them. The best things in life are to be enjoyed with abandon.”
Blunt nails scraped at the small of Will's back and as he tipped his head back and let out a small groan, he had to agree.