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Hannibal Lecter sits at the head of his dark table dressed impeccably in a blood red shirt, a dark paisley tie, a charcoal vest with the thinnest of red accent stripes and pants to match. His jacket long since shed and hanging on the back of the chair in his study. His shoes removed and placed by the door revealing black and grey striped socks. A woman kneels at his feet on a plush cushion to the left of his chair. He is feeding her morsels from his plate, each contented in their silence, no strain or uncertainty between them.
The loud peel of the doorbell rings through the house disturbing their peace. Hannibal looks at her with the hint of a smile in the corner of his lips. “It seems we have a late night visitor.”
He rises gracefully and heads to the door. “Stay,” he says as he walks away.
He opens the door to find Will Graham, leaning on the door jamb, panting and shaking – the absolute picture of a panic attack. He’s wearing a red plaid shirt with an army-green jacket, blue jeans and brown boots. His clothes are smudged with earth and his boots covered in mud.
“Please help me, Hannibal. Please! I’m losing time again.” Will looks as though he will shake out of his skin. He stumbles and catches himself with a hand on Hannibal’s chest. “I don’t know where I’ve been!”
Hannibal wraps an arm around Will’s shoulders and steers him into the house. “Don’t worry, Will, you are here with me now. Why don’t we get you something to eat?” It’s not really a question. Hannibal is going to feed him either way.
With light hands and gentle guidance, Hannibal moves Will into the hallway, removes his coat and hangs it on a hook. The taller man bends down on one knee to untie and remove Will’s shoes. It makes Will uncomfortable - even more so when he notices, with embarrassment, that they are not alone.
“Oh no, I’m sorry, Hannibal. I didn’t realize you had company.” His voice is still shaky and there is a subtle blush creeping up his neck as he looks at the naked woman facing them from her spot on the floor. “I’ll just go.”
“You will do no such thing. You must remember Kate, from the last dinner party.”
Will thinks he might remember her. He pictures a lithe girl in a slinky black dress, the same straight black hair with blunt bangs. He is unsure. She’s wearing a lot less clothes now and he’s not in a space to remember things well at the moment.
With reluctance, Will allows himself to be steered to the chair to the left of Hannibal’s. He sits, hyper-aware of Kate’s nudity, while Hannibal makes him a plate of food.
“You’re in luck, I’ve made far too much of this. I am glad it will not go to waste.”
Will nods in agreement but continues to stare openly at, or perhaps through, Kate situated between their two chairs.
“Uhhh" Will starts, throwing his voice in Hannibal’s direction, “am I allowed to talk to her?”
“Of course, Will. Treat her like one of your dogs.”
Kate might be offended at this remark if she did not know how well Will treated his dogs.
He reaches out a hand to Kate’s face without actually touching her. “Hey there.”
Kate shifts her body forward slightly and sniffs his hand. It smells of petrichor and woods and is mostly clean. She leans her cheek into his palm and smiles. His hand is warm and rough.
Will rewards her with a few pets to the head and a scratch behind the ear.
When Hannibal returns to the dining room the two are getting along well, Kate’s head on Will’s leg; him petting a line down her back. She has managed to calm him by her mere presence and lack of needing anything of him.
“Will, why don’t you tell me what was happening when you lost time? What is the last thing you remember?”
Will’s eyes fixate on his plate both embarrassed and scared.
“I had gone to see Georgia Madchen.” Will picks up a piece of meat with his fingers. Hannibal looks disappointed in his lack of etiquette. Will tries to hide it, but Hannibal notices him hold it under the table.
Kate gives a small series of taps to Hannibal’s leg. He responds with a glance down to her, a sly smile and a light brush of fingers to the back of her head. Their own personal, silent language.
The conversation continues above but she isn’t listening. It isn’t really her concern. She takes the meat Will offers her gently between her teeth, chews swallows and then licks the remnants from his fingers. He seems not to notice. She’s sure it’s a daily occurrence for him.
Will offers another piece. She runs her tongue along the thin skin of his inner wrist this time. That earns her a shudder. Another offering and she sucks in his first and middle fingers. He inhales in surprise and stops speaking abruptly. It’s difficult not to notice his partial arousal with her face so near his lap.
Above her, she hears Hannibal’s sharp tone reprimanding, “William, please stop feeding Kate. She has already had her dinner and you need to eat. You’ve been through quite an ordeal.”
They eat in silence for a moment, then Hannibal continues, “You fear these episodes because you fear that when you lose time, you also lose control. Losing control can be frightening but it does not have to be. It can be possible to relinquish control without losing it. Just ask my Kate.”
Will looks at Kate, still kneeling contentedly at his own feet. He offers her his last piece of food, but she does not take it. Instead, she looks up at Hannibal.
He takes the square of meat from Will. Lifting it to Will’s lips he says “I’ve told you that you need to eat.”
Will eats the bit from Hannibal’s fingers, lips grazing softly against fingertips. “Do you think it will help me?” he asks, “Relinquishing control?”
“Absolutely, and I will be here to help you – every step of the way.”