Chapter Text
The third body in a month. A woman. Her body drained of nearly all her blood. A painting on the wall, her blood used as the perfect shade. Abstract art, accept.. its not abstract. Its part of a whole.
Will exits the motel room. Pintching the bridge of his nose. A headache stabs into his eyes. He fumbles in my pocket, no asprin. But Beverly hands him three. Will had learned how to swallow them dry a while ago. He muttered a thank you. And Berverly told him it was no problem.
Jack was yelling. Angry. Maybe someone somewhere messed something up.
Ringing in Will’s ear downed him out.
—Blackness, to a cut. Will opened his eyes.—
The wind whiped Will’s hair back and forth. He opened his eyes and Hannibal’s door was in front of him. Rain pelted like hail, freezing cold. It might as well have been ice. An episode. They have been growing closer together. Will looked down at his arms, he wasn’t sure if it was out of instint or if he could feel something had gone wrong, but he did. Black. Black, drying blood in every crack of Will’s skin from his hand to his elbow. His sleeves rolled up. Who’s blood was this?
The door opened.
“Will,” Hannibal started, then his eyes landed on Will’s hands. “What happened?” He asked, poking his head out the door to see if anyone else was near. Before quickly ushering Will inside.
“I blacked out I- I didn’t..” Will rubbed the side of his neck to calm himself, effectivly rubbing blood all over himself. Hannibal held Will’s shoulder.
“Will, I need to know who’s blood this is.” Hannibal said, with a pressent sense of worry.
“I don’t know! I don’t remember.” Will pushed Hannibal’s hand away. Putting both hands to the sides of his neck, applying pressure to calm himself.
“What do you remember?”
“Working the last case, the weird artsy guy. I.. I don’t know who’s blood this is. All I know is that it’s not.. mine.” Will shuttered, letting his arms fall as he started pacing.
“Will, I need you to calm down.” Hannibal said as calm as one could be in that moment. “Lets wash you up.” He said softly, putting a hand on Will’s back and leading him to the kitchen—more specificly the kitchen sink.
Will stood over the sink washing his hands, and Hannibal stood next to him, washing his neck with a dish rag. Silence at forced its way through them.
Will spent this time trying to figure out what happened. He tried to push any memories to front but the eariest was just him walking to Hannibal’s home. Still covered in blood.
Its strange what the human mind forgets. So quickly. Was it another seizure? Maybe Will just blacked out, and killed someone. But it doesn’t have to be killing. There are other ways to get to so much blood, isn’t there? Maybe, just maybe it was from the bucket left behind from the last place Will could see himself.
Or maybe Will had just snapped. He wouldn’t know. And what really confused him was the calm that took over him. Sure at the begining it was panic but by now, nothing. It just felt as if he was reconstructing the crime scene that he had created, that he was living through.
Suddenly, Will heard a quiet inhale and the feeling of Hannibal leaning closer. Will turned his head to Hannibal.
“Did you just smell me?” He asked.
“Waste of a shower.” Hannibal commented.
“What?”
“You had showered today, i’m only saying it was a waste. Since you are covered in blood.”
Will knew he hadn’t showed today. Because he shower’s after work. So he went home during all this. Definitely before the blood got involed. That was obvious.
“I didn’t shower.” Will said quietly. Hannibal hummed confusion to himself.
“Pressent you didn’t. But you
definitely did.” Hannibal said, going to the other side of Will, continuing to clean his neck. “It’s good to know you showered. You went somewhere. Home, maybe a motel.” Hannibal said, pausing his hand. He then set the towel down on the counter.
“I wonder if they would look for you here.” Hannibal muttered. “You are my patient. And my friend.”
“So you do think I killed someone.” Will clarified if for no one for himself as he shut the sink off, flicking the water off of his hands before wiping most of it onto his pants.
“We have to think of this as the most likely. It was blood, I could tell by the smell. You are without a car, in the middle of the night.”
Will reluclently nodded. He padded his pocket as if anything that could sooth his pain—both mentally, and physically—would apear in his pockets.
“Would you like some wine?” Hannibal asked eventually.
“I’d prefer whiskey.” Will muttered. Hannibal nodded.
“I’ll find my strongest.” Hannibal said with a smile. And just as he couldn’t see Will, Will smiled back.