Summary: After getting himself involved in an FBI case, Will is taken hostage and tortured. Following his rescue, he withdraws into silence under the weight of what he had been through. Hannibal decides to open up about the years he had been mute as a child.
Tags: hurt/comfort, descriptions of violence, PTSD
~~
"Apologies, Jack, I am having dinner with Will tomorrow evening," Hannibal excused himself and headed towards the door of the office, suspecting where the discussion would go next.
"So he is finally talking? How long do you think it will be until-"
"No, he is not talking. And I believe the second question is misplaced, if I may," he replied genuinely and blinked quickly, forcing a polite smile.
"Doctor, you know Will. He is not like this. He gets back in the saddle. He's the only one who can help us identify the culprits."
"I will have to disappoint you, Jack, but my concern for Will is far greater than for catching your culprits. I believe Will has faced horrors that we perhaps cannot even fathom. I insist that you give him time."
"Do me a favor?" Jack asked after thoughtfully considering his next words, "Talk to Dr. Bloom about this, I don't know what else to tell her anymore."
"She's worried about Will, I assume."
"She thinks that we-, that I broke him forever. She's not worried, she's desperate."
"I will talk to Dr. Bloom," Hannibal said "I will remind her not to underestimate Will."
~~
"I suppose this impromptu meeting is Jack's involvement."
"Partially," Hannibal said while pouring beer in a tall glass, "We haven't caught up in too long."
"Get into it, Hannibal. Don't sugar coat it."
No, he did had to sugar coat it. Alana often proved to be quite stubborn in her beliefs - quality that Hannibal found attractive - but in times like those, it only worsened the situation.
"You are underestimating Will. Again." He said and handed her the glass, "Respectfully."
"Am I? He is not speaking. It's been two weeks."
"It could take more."
Seven years in his own case.
"That doesn't help."
"That doesn't help Will," Hannibal reiterated. "You know, he is not seeking consolation. Pushing him will only make him close in even more."
"I know," she said and let out a deep sigh. "Say it."
"You're denying his agency. Will has always been in control. Sometimes he might not be aware though. It suffices that I know he is. I am his psychiatrist and I expect my colleague to trust my ways."
Alana rolled her eyes at his antics. "So your plan is?"
"I am not going to push him. I am not even going to talk about what happened."
"Ignoring the elephant in the room?"
"There's enough room for it in my dining room. The medical report explains only part of what they did to him. Tell me, what did you think about it?"
"I..." She started, "couldn't read it."
Hannibal shrugged as he brought the wine glass to his lips, satisfied with proving his point.
If it had been too much for her, she and Jack should lower their expectations and at least pretend to have more faith in Will's resilience.
"You do agree it's Jack's fault, right?"
"Partially."
"You're kidding."
"You're denying his agency again. Jack is responsible as much as Will is. Unless Will was forced into helping with the case."
"He is clearly not making good choices."
"He is his own person, Alana. Give him more credit. And for now, space," Hannibal said, a bit too adamantly. If Will could not speak for the time being, he would be his voice. While he had trouble resisting to Jack's emotional manipulation and Alana's excessive concerns, Hannibal had no issue in speaking his mind.
Elegantly, of course.
~~
Hannibal talked about the food, about the wine and about his day without putting any pressure on Will to answer. And Will knew he didn't have to do anything he wasn't feeling like doing.
Hannibal could judge by the look in his eyes that he was listening. His soft gaze didn't indicate that he was bothered either. After all, if he had needed silence, he wouldn't have accepted the dinner invitation.
"Are you familiar with Alcestis?" Hannibal asked as he placed a slice of tiramisu on Will's plate. "It's a greek myth. Her husband let her sacrifice herself so he wouldn't have to die. However, she was resurrected by the gods for her bravery. And remained silent as punishment for her husband who had allowed her death happen so lightly."
Will tilted his head to the side slightly. He seemed to agree with the ending of the story.
"That being said, I was mute for about seven years when I was a child."
Will's gaze fell on him. A small frown appeared on his forehead when he lifted his eyebrows.
"I couldn't remember what had happened to Mischa or to me, but the feeling that something terrible wouldn't leave me alone. And there wasn't anyone I could talk to."
Hannibal made a pause to read the look in Will's eyes. He appeared to be thoughtful.
"While our experiences are not similar, your silence is understandable, Will."
He seemed to zone out for a while, as if Hannibal's words sent him far away. He blinked quickly when Hannibal started talking again, as if he had been awakened from a trance.
"I read your medical report," Hannibal said, "I am convinced your body will heal completely. It might just take time. However," he added, "Is the burn wound on your back showing any progress? Word has it you did not go for your planned check-ups."
Will returned his attention towards his tiramisu slice before nodding discretely. He knew he was not expected or pressured to answer.
"Would you like me to have a look? You can refuse. I would however feel more content if I checked on it."
Will nodded.
~~
Hannibal had memorized the entirety of his medical report. He knew the exact placement and source of every wound on his body. He needed Will to feel the need to show him.
The one on the back of his head, the cuts on his perfect wrists, the stab wounds around his ribs, the places where burning wax had burned his skin. His beautiful left eye was almost healed but the skin was still slightly darkened.
His beautiful Will.
The scars covering his body changed nothing.
"Who did this to you?" He whispered and reached out towards his face, caressing him with the back of his hand.
He had said it in such a way that it sounded like a love confession. Will grabbed his hand softly and held it in his.
The ideal plan would have been to find them before the FBI. Nothing the FBI could have done to them would have been enough for the price Will had payed.
"Thank you for showing me," Hannibal said and squeezed his hand, "I promise everything will heal," he added and wanted to get up but Will grabbed his forearm, making him sit down again.
"Is there anything-"
Will leaned in, resting his whole weight against him, hiding his face away from the world against his neck. If he could have crawled in, he would have hidden inside his ribs, next to his heart.
Hannibal wasn't safe. He was perhaps more dangerous than those who have tortured him. But he could find comfort in the pain he inflicted. The same hands who had taken lives were his own shelter.
When he felt Hannibal's arms wrap around him, allowing him to sink into his chest, he felt truly safe. And he knew that Hannibal wouldn't let go first.
He didn't know for how long they stood like that. But Hannibal's hands had been through his curls, his whispers had soothed all his fears, the warmth of his body had kept him sheltered from his own thoughts.
As if for a while he had stopped existing.
"Did Alcestis ever find peace again?"
"She had to mourn what had been done to her first. So do you."
"I forgot most of it," Will whispered. "That night. I can't remember anything. Faces, voices, wounds. The burn wound you checked on my back, what provoked it?"
"Chloride."
Will nodded and Hannibal wondered if he would speak again that evening.
He had truly missed his voice.
"I don't want to talk to Jack. I don't want to answer questions about as if we're discussing a football game. I can already imagine the "Think, Will, we need you". I'm done, I don't want to talk to him or anyone about it, they don't understand how it feels to know that something terrible happened but not to be able to remember anything. It's haunting. I have the pain as a reminder. I don't want to talk-"
"Will, you don't have to talk."
"I don't want to, I can't care less about Alana's worries, I can't care less about Jack's killers, I don't want to be asked about it, I don't-"
"Will, look at me," Hannibal interrupted him and broke the embrace. "You will not talk to them about it. Not now and not ever, if you don't want to. I will not let that happen. You don't have to talk to me about it either. I can sit with you here in silence for the rest of the night if that is what you want. Or we can talk about anything else. The choice is yours."
"No, I need to talk to you. I feel like I'm losing my whole sanity."
"Then talk to me."
"Everything makes me think about it. One of my dogs climbed on the bed this morning while I was asleep and I almost...I almost..."
"But you did not. Give yourself some grace."
"I think about it constantly. And sometimes I imagine that I could just leave. Leave everything behind, go somewhere else. Anywhere else."
"And?"
"This is the sort of thing that haunts you everywhere. Moving to a different state wouldn't change anything."
"Why did you accept my dinner invitation then?"
"I didn't want to be alone with it anymore. I have never realized how loud the forest is at night. I'm losing every grip that I have."
"You are not. I am not letting that happen. Even if you lose your grip, my grip on you is not loose."
His gaze gave away so much exhaustion. "You might have not managed to break me, Hannibal, but this might have."
Because Hannibal's scope had never been to provoke irreparable damage. It had always been just enough to ignite a response in him. To ignite the blood in his veins, to give him a taste of hidden pleasures that he would otherwise deny himself.
"My intention had never been to break you. I have always wanted you to see yourself the way I do."
"And do you see something very pathetic at the moment?"
"Not at all," Hannibal said gently, "I see the man that I love."
"The man that you love feels like a coward."
"Not in front of me. Not in front of any of them. No one should be concerned with the way you're dealing with this," Hannibal said.
"May I stay here for a while?"
Will knew Hannibal was looking forward to that particular question. Perhaps he was throwing himself in the mouth of the wolf, but it certainly did not feel like it. He was convinced he had lost any ability to tell apart the right from wrong.
