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Will closed his eyes, a poor excuse for a shield to separate himself from the crime scene not six feet away. He could still hear voices around him chattering and coalescing, the smell of iron and dirt permeated his nose. Eyes tell you too much yet closing them didn’t hide enough. His sleeping had only gotten worse, headaches plaguing him nearly every day, aspirin getting less effective as time passed. He wasn’t confident it did anything at all anymore except give his nervous hands something to do, a silent signal to those bothering to pay attention that he wasn’t as well as he seemed. He didn’t recall having slept much at all the night before, or for several nights come to think of it, just a hazy phone call with Jack telling him where he was needed and the blur of highway for an hour or so. The crime scene wasn’t anything worse than he’d seen before, but each one dug in a little deeper, sunk down just a little bit more. He was losing himself and was terrified of what horrors would fill in the cracks and crevices that grew larger with each passing day. Even as broken as he was, he could still do his job, it’s what kept him coming back. But how shattered did he have to be before he started to fail and truly fall apart? He tossed the thought from his mind, unwilling to think about it.
He took a deep breath and held it until his lungs burned, body deprived of rest and oxygen, then slowly opened his eyes as he exhaled. Will looked around in a panic, pivoting two half-turns to confirm he wasn’t at the crime scene anymore but the waiting room of Hannibal’s office. Undistinguished voices now silent, the rot of rust and soil now clean air, faintest hint of cologne from the volley of previous patients. He swallowed hard to stifle the tremble of fear in his throat. He paced, wondering if he should leave, choices ping-ponging across his eyelids. Maybe Hannibal doesn’t know I’m here. I could just leave. Yeah. He’d never know. His anxiety bloomed when he realized he didn’t remember ever driving there; from one place to the next in the blink of an eye. He tore his sleeve over his watch, hours had gone by, lost time and space. He wanted to leave even more now; he didn’t want Hannibal to see him like this, or anyone for that matter. But Will was just as afraid to go home, worried he’d lose even more of himself and end up somewhere else that wasn’t at home with his dogs where he’d be safe, or somewhere worse. He searched his coat pocket for his cigarettes, hands trembling and grip weak.
Before he could make any decision, legs heavy and paralyzed with fear, the door to Hannibal’s office opened silently. Hannibal stood in the doorway; a concerned look furrowed his brow. He was fully dressed in an overcoat and scarf as if ready to leave. “Will, are you alright?” His voice felt far but soft. He eyed the pack in Will’s hands.
Will tried to smile but shrugged instead. He looked at his watch again and confirmed it was after 6pm, Hannibal was on his way out to go home for the night. “I, uh, sorry Hannibal. Uhm. Sorry.” He turned to leave but was stopped by a warm and firm hand on his shoulder.
Hannibal smiled gently, slightly pulling Will towards him. “Come inside, Will, please. Let’s settle your nerves.”
Will arrhythmically shook his head. “You were about to go home. I should just do the same. Goodnight, Dr. Lecter.”
“Please, Will, I have nowhere to be and am in no rush.” Hannibal opened his office door wide and gently guided Will inside. Will took a few steps in then froze in place, unsure if all this was real. Hannibal touched Will’s shoulders again, grounding him. “Let me take your coat, Will. Try and get comfortable.”
Will nodded frantically, hands more firmly grasping the cigarettes in his fist, nearly crushing them. Hannibal sat on the edge of his desk with his hands clasped over his lap as he observed Will. “Can you tell me what happened?”
“I…” Will opened his mouth, eyes almost watering, but no more sound came. His jaw trembled and he shook his head.
“That’s alright.” Hannibal eyed back down to Will’s fidgeting hands. “You’re more than welcome to smoke if that will help ease your stress.”
The offer took Will aback, and he furrowed his brow. “R-really?”
Hannibal nodded. “Of course, I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t mean it. Take a moment, take all the time you need.”
Will smiled weakly, then fumbled getting a cigarette from the pack. To his dismay, it was entirely empty. He scowled and crumbled the box in his fist and shoved it in his pocket with a heavy sigh. Without a word, Hannibal stood and walked around to the front of his desk. He opened the top right drawer and pulled out a pack of his own as well as a simple glass ashtray. He smiled as he held it in front of him as an offering.
“Are-are you sure?” Will asked, and Hannibal simply smiled and nodded. “I, uh, d-didn’t take you for a smoker.”
“Nor I you.” Hannibal chuckled softly, then settled back down on the edge of his desk.
Will flipped open the lid, and the smell of fresh tobacco wafted up to his nose. Hannibal smoked much better stuff than Will did, a built of guilt settled in his chest taking it from him. He pulled one out with trembling hands and handed it back to Hannibal. He balanced it on his quivering lips, hands too sweaty to ignite the cheap lighter. He almost growled, trying again and again without success, thumb readily slipping off the sparkwheel. Will even turned his body slightly away from Hannibal, a bit embarrassed by it all.
Hannibal stood and silently walked over to Will who didn’t see him approach. He gently grabbed Will’s wrist and plucked the lighter from his grasp. He ignited it with ease and held the flame to the end of the cigarette. Will slowly inhaled; eyes locked with Hannibal’s. He inhaled deeply, filling his lungs with heat and smoke, then turned his head to exhale out of his nose and avoid rudely blowing smoke back in Hannibal’s face. Hannibal held up the ashtray to let Will flick the ash and spare the carpet below them.
They stood in silence for a while and a stillness fell over Will. He smiled weakly but successfully, then took another drag. “Thank you, Dr. Lecter.”
Hannibal smiled back and slipped Will’s lighter into the left breast pocket of his flannel. He held his hand there, heat from his palm spilling through the fabric to Will’s chest. He lingered there, feeling the erratic heartbeat just below the surface subtly slow and regulate. Will didn’t move or push him away, just stood there smoking. “No trouble at all, Will. And please, call me Hannibal.”