Chapter Text
Chapter 1
Because of a new law barely a year old, Will was seated on a bench outside a courtroom, waiting to hear what his fate would be. It was incredible how quickly someone’s life could change through no actions of one’s own, but as his dad would have said, them’s the breaks. It sucked beyond belief and Will was still trying to wrap his head around it all.
Ten years ago, a prominent social scientist had presented a paper at a conference outlining that America had been losing their brightest and most talented people due to multiple factors. The first factor had been that too many of them were not having their talents identified when they were children, so their talents were never developed. The second factor was that they were not provided with an environment that would encourage such development. The third factor, according to that esteemed scientist, was that once they were adults, no one was making sure that they were all right. People assumed that since someone was an adult, they could take care of themselves, but the scientist had stated in his paper that there were some highly-gifted who struggled with such things simply because they were gifted.
He’d gone on to present case study after case study of thwarted potential. Some of his case studies, for lack of anyone in their lives to notice that something was wrong, ended up in mental wards, on the streets, or addled with drugs or dead due to suicide. The way he’d presented the case studies and their numbers had made an impression on the public consciousness, and a new movement had been born.
Historians researched the phenomenon and wrote new biographies of famous screw-ups, viewed through the lense of “highly gifted” and “thwarted potential”. Geneticists had gotten in on the act and had actually managed to pinpoint certain gene markers that allowed them to say that, yes, the criteria actually could be classified as a genetic condition.
Children were now tested when they started school to see if they were gifted. If they tested within a certain range, enrichment and special classes were held for them. Adults, of course, had been tested shortly after the law had been passed, and Will, for some reason, had scored well enough to qualify as “highly gifted.” The genetic test had been even more damning. What that meant was that as long as he was well, there was no cause for concern and he was able to live his life as he pleased. When problems arose, however, then things changed. That paper and the movement had led to the National Gifted Act. If a person was highly gifted and they had the genetic markers, and if they were proven incapable of taking care of themselves, then a guardian was appointed for them. That was the decision that Will was waiting to hear.
A month previously, Will had been in the middle of a lecture when he started feeling weak and very, very tired. He’d swayed on his feet and grabbed hold of the table beside him and the odd feeling passed. During his next lecture the feeling and weakness returned and the next thing he knew, he was lying on the floor and staring up at the startled faces of his students. On Jack’s insistence and because it was the law, Will had reported to the hospital for an exam and tests. He had a full physical exam from a general practitioner and a full battery of labs done, and the following week he’d had a session with a psychologist (which had not gone well). The doctor and the psychologist had contacted a judge and recommended that Will have a guardian appointed for him.
His coworkers had had a field day when he let them know why he was taking off work for a few days. He’d been in the morgue with all of them and their reactions had been less than helpful.
"You know, Will, with your neuroatypical self, this kind of thing is pretty common - some people just can't manage to function normally after experiencing vast amounts of stress and sleep disturbances, which I remember you mentioning you were having not long ago. Your body shuts down to protect itself - like it did last week in the classroom. In front of all of your students. It's a biological mechanism designed to save your brain," Bev finished her comment with a smile.
"Don't forget falling asleep in the car on the way to that crime scene in Georgia!" Zeller called out from the supply closet.
"Or that time we were in the the lab and you passed out in the chair and wouldn't move for six hours," Price commented thoughtfully from beside the autopsy table.
"You guys can stop at any time, you know." Will reached up to rub at his forehead. His present headache just wouldn’t quit.
"We're right, Will. You just have to admit it...you're special. You're Gifted. That means you just need a bit of help when things get rough," Bev patted his hand and moved away. "Seriously, though. Eat something." She winked and walked off, leaving Will glaring at the wall. He was not a child that needed to be taken care of, no matter what the law said.
The judge had called Will and asked him to meet with him, and because he had no choice in the matter, Will had gone.
“Your doctor and psychologist have suggested a guardianship for you, Mr. Graham. Do you have any idea why?”
Will thought about it. “Because I collapsed in class?”
“According to your medical and mental health report, that’s only a small part of it,” the judge had replied. “You are close to twenty pounds underweight, you’re showing signs of physical exhaustion, and your psychologist says that your nerves are so tight that he’s amazed they haven’t snapped. You told him that you have a very stressful job. Is that true?”
“I do fine with the teaching, but not so much with the profiling. Still, I help save lives, so that’s good.”
The judge gave him a long look. “But not so good for you, isn’t that right?”
Will shrugged. “I’m fine.”
The judge nodded. “I see. I’ve been looking over your file, and there’s been one person who’s stepped forward to be your guardian, should one prove necessary.”
Will blinked in surprise. “Who?”
“Jack Crawford. He told me that his wife has already agreed to have you with them.”
Anxiety clawed its way up Will’s throat. “I work with Jack.” The thought of having Jack as his guardian, to never have the pressure of Jack’s eye off of him, was terrifying.
“Do you think that would be a good idea?”
Involuntarily, Will shook his head and shrugged a second later. He really didn’t know what answer to give. “Jack can be...intense.”
“That was my impression of him,” the judge confided in him. “Do you have anyone else? Family? Other friends?”
“Not really,” Will sighed. “Alana, maybe, but that wouldn’t be a good idea. I don’t have many friends.”
“Is there anyone else you trust?”
Will shrugged again.
“Jack Crawford told me that you’ve been seeing a psychiatrist, a Dr. Hannibal Lecter,” the judge said, reading the name from Will’s file. “Would it be all right if I speak to him?”
Jack would have done his best to present himself in a positive light to the judge, but Hannibal, Will knew, would be honest. “Sure.”
“All right. You’ll know my decision soon. Until then, take care of yourself.”
Will had no idea what Hannibal had said; Will hadn’t had a chance to see him. He’d been too busy with teaching classes and with a case that had taken him out of town with Jack. He’d been forcing himself to eat and he’d spent the nights doing his best to sleep, but he had a feeling that it was too little, too late. He could feel people’s eyes on him, and it made him nervous.
Now, he was seated outside the judge’s chambers on a bench, awaiting his fate. He’d either go back home without having to worry, or...he’d get a guardian.
If he ended up with anybody, then they’d damn well better let him bring his dogs. It didn’t matter if he ended up with a guardian (well, it mattered a lot, but he felt he needed a bit of perspective), but keeping his dogs was non-negotiable. They depended on him. How incapable of taking care of himself could he be if he remembered to take care of a whole pack of dogs? Couldn’t that darned judge take that into account?
The tension headache that had been pounding on his head all morning intensified and he pinched the bridge of his nose in an effort to ease it. He’d taken Tylenol and ibuprofen but the medicines hadn’t touched it. Of all days for him to get a headache, it had to be today. Sometimes, it felt like Fate was pointing and laughing at him.
“Will?”
Will brought his head up and found himself looking right into Hannibal’s eyes. “Dr. Lecter?”
“We agreed to call each other by our first names, Will,” Hannibal reminded him, taking a seat beside him on the bench. “You look like you’re not feeling well.”
“Just a tension headache. I’ve already taken something, but it’s not helped.”
“With all this strain you’re under, it’s not surprising that you have a headache.”
The door to the judge’s chambers opened and the man himself stood in the doorway. “Dr. Lecter?”
“A pleasure to meet you in person,” Hannibal said, getting to his feet and offering his hand to shake.
“Thank you for coming,” the judge told him, taking his hand. “Please, come in.” He paused and fixed his attention on Will. “Mr. Graham, would you step into the conference room on your right and wait there, please? I’ll be with you shortly.”
Feeling as if he were walking the Green Mile, Will grabbed his bag and did as the judge asked. He’d just closed the door behind him when he got a nasty shock.
“Hi, Will.”
Will jumped and whirled to face the speaker. “Jack!”
“Didn’t know I was in here?” Jack said, looking unhappy about something.
Will felt his anxiety ramp up a few notches. “No, the judge asked me to come in here and wait.”
“He spent maybe five minutes talking to me and then he showed me in here,” Jack said, running a finger along the surface of the table. “How you feeling?”
Will shrugged. “No worse than usual. Um, is it true that you offered to be my guardian if the judge decided I needed one?”
“I’d say it’s a done deal,” Jack said flatly. “It’s clear you can’t take care of yourself.”
Will wondered what would happen if he reminded Jack he was under a lot of stress and just what the cause of that stress was. “I’ve been stressed out.”
“You need to get your act together,” Jack sighed. “You want to be signed into someone’s care?”
Will opened his mouth to answer and shut it again. There was nothing he could say to get Jack to understand just what was wrong.
“You’ve been spending too much time with fish; you’re starting to look like one,” Jack muttered. “How do you expect to do your job when you’re forgetting to eat and not sleeping?”
“Sleeping’s difficult,” Will snapped. “I have a lot of nightmares, you know.”
“You’re letting things affect you too much.”
“Jack, we’ve been over this,” Will said patiently, feeling immeasurably tired. “I can’t keep it from affecting me. The best way to prevent that is to not expose myself to it.”
“C’mon, Will!”
A door in the far wall opened, revealing the judge and Hannibal. “Agent Crawford, I’m ready for you.”
Jack pushed away from the table and stormed into the judge’s chambers. Hannibal joined Will.
“Has Uncle Jack been pushing his teacup again?” Hannibal asked.
“Let’s just say that he needs a mug, not a teacup,” Will complained, dropping into a chair. The headache was digging its teeth into his head and gnawing. He raised a hand to massage the back of his neck, hoping for some relief.
“Please allow me,” Hannibal said, draping his coat over a chair and moving to stand behind Will. “I’ll be able to reach where it’s most needed. Why don’t you take off your jacket and tie so I can reach the base of your neck?”
Will felt too miserable to argue and did as Hannibal asked. Shortly Hannibal’s hands were stroking his neck and gently kneading the tight muscles that were causing Will so much misery. What Hannibal was doing was so relaxing that Will relaxed enough that he didn’t notice when Hannibal unfastened the top two buttons of his shirt to work on the area where his neck met his shoulders.
“How long has it been since you’ve had a full night of sleep?” Hannibal asked, his fingers working on a knot.
“Mmmnnngh,” Will groaned as the knot released. “Don’t know.”
“And did you eat this morning?”
“A bit,” Will confessed. “Some cereal.” He was not going to tell Hannibal that he’d gotten sick from nerves before even leaving the house.
“And how long did it stay in your stomach before you were sick?”
Will turned his head to stare at Hannibal and Hannibal’s hands turned his head back so that he faced forward again.
“Vomit leaves a sour smell about a person, and I have a keen nose,” Hannibal reminded him, continuing the massage. “Did you try eating or drinking anything else?”
‘I had some water when I got here,” Will said truthfully. “Other than that, no.”
“Perhaps the next thing you should try eating is a clear soup, if your stomach is that upset,” Hannibal advised, fastening Will’s buttons and setting his tie and collar to rights. He circled Will and took the chair in front of him. “Is it all right if I work on your hands?”
“You’re going to massage my hands?”
“Certain points on the hands induce relaxation,” Hannibal told him, holding out his hands toward Will. “Please. I promise, it doesn’t hurt. Right hand first.”
Will gave him his hand and reminded himself to relax as Hannibal unfastened his cuff button and rolled up his sleeve. Shortly Hannibal was massaging his hand and wrist and forearm, and Will could feel himself relaxing all over again. “Maybe I should make this a habit.”
“I believe it would be beneficial.” Hannibal said, working the tips of his thumbs on a place between Will’s index finger and thumb. “How’s the headache?”
Will had leaned his head back into the headrest behind him and closed his eyes. “Mmmm. Much better. It feels like I have a new head.”
“That’s very good. Just focus on relaxing your neck and shoulders, all right?”
Vaguely Will felt Hannibal switch to his left hand, and then he was doing something to both of them together, and after that things got hazy. When he next opened his eyes the judge was sitting in Hannibal’s seat. “Judge Peterson?”
The judge smiled. “Hello, Will. Feeling any better?”
“Yeah,” Will admitted. “I can’t believe I fell asleep. How long was I out?”
“No more than a half-hour. Do you know why I asked you to wait in here, Will?”
“Because it’s close to your chambers?” Will guessed, his sleepy wits trying to wake up. That half-hour had been the most peaceful bit of sleep he’d had in ages.
“That, and because it allows me to monitor how potential guardians interact with their potential wards. Due to the particulars of the Highly Gifted Act, I can watch this room via a web cam in real time. I must say that I am concerned about your interaction with Agent Crawford. He makes you nervous, doesn’t he?”
Will shrugged, not feeling as if he could answer.
“It’s based on that observed interaction that I am declining Agent Crawford’s offer of guardianship.”
Will felt as if the sun had come out from behind the clouds. “Really?”
“Yes, really,” Judge Peterson told him. “However, I do feel that you need a guardian, Mr. Graham. I feel you will thrive with the right kind of care.”
“I can take care of myself,” Will protested.
“I’m having a hard time believing that, son,” Judge Peterson said kindly, practically radiating ‘affable older man.’ “You’re very underweight, you’ve not been sleeping, and you collapsed. No, on those criteria alone, I would be remiss in my job if I did not assign you a guardian.”
Will wondered if it was too late for him to emigrate somewhere else, preferably with an ocean between him and Jack Crawford.
“I did raise the question with Dr. Lecter, and he was amenable to the suggestion.”
Will did a double-take. “Wait, what? Hannibal?”
“He actually agreed with me that you need a guardian,” Judge Peterson told him, confounding Will further. “He said that the fact you fell asleep so quickly was a cause for concern. He said that he would be willing to be your guardian during the week and the weekends could be your own. You would be able to maintain your house and other possessions and spend the weekends there. Dr. Lecter has said that he will make arrangements for your dogs at his home.”
Will stared at him, not quite sure what to think.
“Why don’t you speak to Dr. Lecter regarding his becoming your guardian?” Judge Peterson suggested. “You and he can discuss it and come to an agreement. If you feel it’s not possible I will look at other options for you, but it is my personal belief that wards do better with people they already know.”
“If I refuse Dr. Lecter as my guardian, then what are the options for me? Would I be assigned a social worker or someone like that who would come out to my home to check on me?”
Judge Peterson shook his head. “No, you would be assigned a guardian by the court. There are a few in the area who would be available for you, but you would be at their home full time.”
Will regarded him with alarm. “What about my dogs?”
“They may allow you to bring one or two, or they may insist you make other arrangements.”
Will buried his head in his hands and groaned. “Why? Why is this even necessary? I’m a grown man!”
“A highly gifted grown man who is having trouble caring for himself,” the judge corrected. “This law that is having such an influence on your life right now was put in place to protect you. According to your file, you need such protection.”
Will looked him in the eye. “This law stinks.”
The judge gave him a look that told him he understood why Will felt the way he did. “Yes, I hear that often. Still, there’s this to consider: If a child or an older person is not able to care for himself, it is the responsibility of society to make sure that he is cared for. I feel that the same principle applies in your case. You are an extremely gifted person who is having difficulty right now. Shouldn’t the same consideration be shown to you? Besides, guardianship is not permanent, Mr. Graham. You know that after a period of five years you can apply for autonomy.”
“It’s impossible to know if it would be granted to me since the law’s still so new,” Will pointed out.
“The only way you’ll know for certain is if you never apply,”Judge Peterson reminded him. “I can give you a period of forty-eight hours in which to consider Dr. Lecter’s offer, but then I have to submit the case. Either you’ll stay with Dr. Lecter, or the court will appoint a guardian for you out of our available candidates.”
Feeling as if he were trying to bail out a sinking ship with a thimble, Will nodded. “Okay. I’ll talk to Dr. Lecter. Should I call you to let you know when I make a decision?”
“A phone call will be fine. Once you’ve communicated your decision, I will have the paperwork prepared for you and Dr. Lecter to sign.”
Will got to his feet, shook the judge’s hand, and fled into the hall. Hannibal was out there, seated on the bench.
“Hello, Will,” Hannibal said. “Finished with Judge Peterson?”
“You really offered to be my guardian?”
Hannibal gave him a thoughtful smile. “I did, yes. Jack is wholly unsuitable due to his nature, and I had a good feeling that you wouldn’t want to end up with someone you didn’t know. Was I wrong to offer?”
“No, I was just...surprised, I suppose. I figured that something like this would be taking friendship too far.”
“Friends help each other,” Hannibal told him, touching his shoulder. “Now, you are pale and you look tired. You need something to eat and a chance to rest. Forgive me for presuming, but I’ve taken the liberty of asking Alana to care for your pack tonight. She’ll feed them and walk them for you, and she’ll let them out in the morning. Why don’t we seek out something delicious to eat and then head to my home for this evening, and we can talk about this situation?”
What else could Will do but agree? With a nod, he followed Hannibal out of the building to the parking lot. Once there, Hannibal asked Will to follow him to their destination, and they would talk more once they had themselves on the outside of some dinner.