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[Name] [Last] had been seeing Will Graham casually. That's what she told herself as she closed her oven. Outside, snow swirled around in small tornadoes in the ground. It was probably not safe to drive, much less drive 30 minutes to Will’s house in Wolf Trap. She didn't care, though, she was worried about him.
He was on some kind of work trip to Italy. That was all he could tell her. She knew that was a stipulation of his job with the FBI; he couldn't just tell anyone what he was working on. [Name] didn't mind; she believed that although his job was interesting, there were many more interesting things about Will.
But his trip was lasting a little too long. What concerned her more was his lack of responses to her texts and calls. Will was reserved, of course, but he usually didn't leave her texts unread for days. He hardly ever took more than two hours to reply, which she found flattering, since he was a busy man.
But not this busy. That's why she was dropping in on him, seeing if everything was okay. It crossed her mind that he wasn't home yet, but she wanted to at least go check. She wondered if that would be too un-casual for him, but that's what the cookies in the oven were for. If he didn't want to talk, she would just leave them with him and wait until he was ready.
[Name] did some cleaning around her house while she waited for the cookies to bake, daydreaming about Will. They had both agreed that they weren't exclusive, which [Name] was still okay with, but she had stopped seeing anyone else. She didn't care to see anyone else anymore, not when she had been going fishing with Will, and showing him her favorite places to go have a drink and read, and finding herself asleep in his bed some mornings, too comfortable to stand up and leave. She knew she was falling in love with him, and probably should ask him if he was still seeing other people. She just didn't want to hear him say yes.
When the timer sitting next to her oven went off, she grabbed an oven mit and pulled the tray of cookies out, setting the timer again to let them cool. She threw on her coat and pulled on her boots, collecting the cookies and putting them in a container when the timer went off.
The drive wasn't as bad as she thought it would be. She was quite content to look at the snow falling on her windshield, hoping more and more that Will would be safe at home when she arrived.
What she didn't expect to arrive to was SWAT cars parked all up his gravel driveway. Jack Crawford standing in front of his porch, and Hannibal Lecter kneeling in the snow, guns aimed at him as he held his hands over his head. Will was standing on the porch, and [Name] could tell he wanted to crawl into himself. He held himself a certain way when he felt like that.
He saw her car pull up the driveway, but quickly returned to looking at Jack and Hannibal. He held a hand out in her direction as a gesture of, stop there. She did, and put her car in park. She waited there until Hannibal was put in the back of Jack’s car, and one by one, the black vans and trucks drove away.
Will leaned on the porch with his face in his hands for a moment, before looking back up and gesturing again for her to drive forward.
She parked in front of his house, quickly gathering her things and rushing to get out of her car. “Will,” she said, walking up to him. She wanted to ask him what happened, but she saw the look on his face and knew that this wouldn't be a good time. Instead, she said, “Are you okay?”
He gave a look that could only be described as an angry and very tired smile, before saying, “No.”
“What can I do for you?” she asked. She wanted to hug him, hold him, let him cry – but she knew none of that would happen. He wasn't one for physical touch, and certainly not one to cry, even though he looked like he was about to.
“Nothing. Nothing. You can't…do anything for this, [Name].” he said,
She held out the box of cookies to him. “I baked you cookies.” Was all she could say.
He chuckled quietly. “Thank you,” he said, taking the box from her hand. “You can come in, if you want. It's….cold.”
He opened his front door, putting a hand on the small of her back as she walked through. The first thing she noticed was the absence of the dogs; usually they jumped on her and ran around her in a frenzy as she walked inside. “Where are the dogs?”
“I'm sure I will soon find out from Dr. Lecter,” he said with an obvious disdain in his voice. He walked past her to sit on the edge of his bed, looking down at his feet.
“Do you…want to tell me about it?” she said, walking over and sitting next to him.
“No, but…I probably should,” he said, “I'm glad you're here.” He didn't look at her, still staring at the floor.
They were both quiet, the silence hanging in the air; clinging to their skin like molasses. [Name] really did think she could feel it.
So she broke it, saying, “Start wherever you want.”
“Hannibal is the Chesapeake Ripper,” he said, his affect flat, clasping his hands in his lap. They were trembling. “And he…he let himself be caught, because he thinks he loves me.”
“Do you love him?” she asked.
“I don't know,” he said. “Where he ends and I begin, it's….” he let out a sad chuckle. “It's very hard to tell these days. He got in my head, [Name], and…I probably won't ever be the same. At least, not…not the same man I was when you met me. But…I don't think that's love,”
She shook her head sadly. “Do you think he wanted to kill you?”
“I don't know. He tried. Hell,” he scoffed. “I tried to kill him.”
She took a deep breath. [Name] had always known Will was a complicated man. She knew she shouldn't ask questions she didn't want to know the answer to. “He's going to prison, I assume.”
“I assume,” Will repeated. She detected a sadness in his voice. His hands still shook in his lap as he bounced his leg with a tap, tap, tap, on the hardwood floor. She reached out and gently put her hand on his back, trying to be of some comfort, at least. That was when he turned to look at her.
“I'm just so tired of thinking about Hannibal Lecter,” he said, in a smaller, weaker voice.
“Come here,” she said. She didn't know if he actually would, in fact, she was surprised when he leaned forward to bury his face in her shoulder. She rubbed his back, putting her other hand up to the back of his head.
“I don't want you to see me like this,” he said in a gruff whisper.
“I am perfectly okay seeing you like this, Will,” she said. A few moments of silence passed before she started to feel his shoulders shake and chest heave. He was crying.
She didn't acknowledge it directly; she knew he would pull away. Instead, she kept rubbing his back, and kept smoothing his hair. “I'm here,” she said. “I'm right here, Will.”
He was sobbing now, gasping for air, his breaths coming back out in strained huffs. He groaned, like he was in physical pain as he grabbed his arms to stop them shaking. She pulled him closer, breathing in long and slow, hoping he would calm and match that pace when he was ready. After a while, he did, and before he pulled away, he kissed her just below her jaw.
She looked at his flushed face, the red around his eyes, and said, “We don't have to talk any more about it if you don't want to.”
“I don't. There is more, a....a lot, more. But I really, really don't.” he said, his voice breaking.
“Okay,” she said. She lifted her hand to his face, wiping the last of his tears. “This doesn't change how I feel about you.”
“I know, I know,” he said, “it isn't about you. I prefer to go through these things alone, because no matter how many times you tell me you don't care, I do.”
“That's okay,” she said, tucking one of his brown curls behind his ear.
“How…do you feel about me?” he asked, looking down at her and taking in the sight.
“I believe I am falling in love with you. I…missed you when you were gone, and not a day went by that I didn't think of you,” she said quietly, nervous to admit it out loud.
“Is that why you're here now?”
“Yes,” she said, “I was worried you would never come home.”
He sighed, moving up towards the head of his bed to lean against it. “Stay,” he said after a beat. “Spend the night again.”