Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Like a flower seeking daylight, Will Graham closed his eyes and tilted his face toward the sun. The warmth on his pale skin felt like a dream, especially since he never expected to experience the sensation again.

When Will arrived at the hospital several days prior, he had been too weak and disoriented to notice the weather. He didn’t like to consider what would have happened if a good samaritan hadn’t stopped to pick him up: a barefoot, bruised, and emaciated man limping down the side of the road.

After extensive stabilizing treatment, Will was prepared to leave the medical center. A van waited under the hospital’s awning to transfer him to the Omega Rehabilitation Center. Despite his weakened state, Will declined the offered wheelchair and left the hospital on his own feet. A counselor from the Omega Center stayed close by his side, ready to steady him if necessary. Will wasn’t sure what to expect from his upcoming stay at the Omega Center. A continuation of his wellness plan, to be sure. He had not revealed to hospital staff or the police the full extent of his ordeal, only enough to explain his injuries in general terms.

Will glanced at the counselor, Bella Crawford, who had climbed into the van and sat beside him. The woman sensed his attention and returned his look with a smile. Bella was a refined, dignified woman, though her caring disposition shone through. Will wondered whether she would be assigned to his case or if he would have to meet yet another therapist. Will sighed. Therapy would have been warranted for his empathy disorder alone, but now he had additional trauma, it would be unsafe to ignore. He allowed himself to focus on the world outside as the van carried him to the next stage of recovery.

🔪🔪

Dr. Hannibal Lecter strolled down the familiar streets of Florence in his mind palace.

The sun gave off a pleasing warmth, and the rich smells of roasting garlic and baking bread filled the air. A bevy of doves searching the cobbled streets for food took flight when an elderly woman carrying a basket of herbs passed. Hannibal was on his way to the Piazza della Repubblica, a vast space surrounded by bustling cafés and chic hotels. He intended to spend the day sipping a glass of 2015 Falleto Vigna Le Rocche at an outdoor table. Watching the faceless crowds was enjoyable, and his boundless imagination allowed for variety each time he visited.

Somewhere in the distance, a door slammed.

The unexpected noise pulled Hannibal’s mind closer to the surface, where he could more easily monitor his surroundings. His ears picked up the sound of muffled voices. Most peculiar. It was neither time for a meal to be served nor were the guards due for a shift change. Two sets of footsteps echoed down the corridor, one authoritative, commanding while the other was buoyant, almost enthusiastic.

The memory of the Italian summer afternoon faded away as Hannibal opened his eyes and stood, ready to greet his visitors.

Dr. Frederick Chilton, the Director of the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane, strode down the hall with a file folder in his hand. His bored expression was expected from a man with no talent and little imagination. He was followed by a male omega sporting a closely trimmed beard and dark, curly hair. The omega glanced nervously at the other patients on the block until Dr. Chilton stopped before Hannibal’s cell.

“Here we are, Hannibal. Your newest project,” Dr. Chilton said in a bored tone, not looking up from the open file in his hand.

“Dr. Lecter, please, Frederick,” Hannibal corrected politely. Dr. Chilton was easy to provoke, and Hannibal couldn’t resist the occasional jab. The corners of his lips rose when he saw Frederick clenched his teeth.

“Your medical license has been revoked,” Dr. Chilton said flatly, unwilling to be pulled into Hannibal’s games.

“Very well, Frederick. I will extend you the professional courtesy when you do the same,” Hannibal said, ignoring the omega practically bouncing on his toes beside the Director.

“Yes, well…,” Dr. Chilton said, ready to end the conversation. He had more important duties elsewhere, such as utilizing the privacy of his office to gaze in the mirror and congratulate himself on his so-called achievements.

Squinting at the file, Frederick gestured vaguely at the man at his side. “This is Franklyn Froideveux. He’s from the Omega Rehabilitation Center and has been assigned to you. The estimated time frame for recovery is three months, though it can be extended or shortened if necessary. Here’s his history and scent sample,” Dr. Chilton said, opening the slot meals were passed through and placing the file folder inside.

“Three months?!” the omega scoffed in an overly-loud voice. “I’m sure that won’t be anywhere near enough time. I’m very troubled, you know? What happened to me… it was awful. I’m sure you’ll agree, Dr. Lecter, it might take me a year, or even more, to be properly recovered.”

Rude.

Hannibal didn’t reply. Instead, he picked up the folder and skimmed its contents. Even without the sparse details provided, the omega’s intentions were painfully apparent. This omega did not appear abused. In fact, Dr. Lecter was certain he invented his supposed “trauma” in order to be placed at the BSHCI. He was gazing at Hannibal with the hungry look of a sycophant. Another fanboy. Insufferable.

“The time frame isn’t up to either of you,” Dr. Chilton said firmly into the silence. Franklyn deflated slightly at the reprimand but continued to look at Hannibal with adoring eyes.

Hannibal opened the plastic bag included with the paperwork. It held a small square of fabric that had been wiped across the scent glands at Franklyn’s wrists. It was an old, outdated practice: allowing an alpha to scent an omega to determine compatibility. Hannibal wasn’t surprised Frederick still clung to the thoroughly disproven tradition. It was far more effective to have the omegas scent their potential Support Alpha instead. Franklyn’s smell was overly-sweet, like a plum too long on the tree. The alpha wrinkled his nose in distaste and quickly resealed the bag.

Under no circumstances would Hannibal foster this fraud. Freddie Lounds was more worthy of respect and probably more honest too. Still, he knew outright rejection was impossible. Frederick would delight in opening Hannibal’s cell and shoving the odious little man inside. It would be better if the Director changed his mind instead.

Hannibal held one wrist in a loose grip behind his back and straightened his spine. Assuming a lecturing tone, he began his manipulations. Addressing Franklyn, he said, “As you know, this outreach program was designed to assist omegas who have been severely abused or traumatized by an alpha. Each omega is assigned to a Support Alpha who has undergone an extensive screening process. The pair works together to overcome the omega’s fears and help them learn how to trust alphas again so they can rejoin society. Over time, the program has been expanded to include alpha inmates deemed omega-safe.”

“How in the world a cannibalistic serial killer was deemed omega-safe, I’ll never understand,” Frederick sneered.

Hannibal blinked at the rude interruption, waiting several seconds to ensure Frederick was finished before continuing. “I have assisted five omegas so far. Exactly what do you hope to gain from this program, Franklyn?”

Franklyn stumbled closer to the glass as if drawn by a string. He ignored Dr. Chilton’s admonishments to step back. “Well, I’ve read about you, Dr. Lecter. I know everything about you,” he said, eyeing the inmate number printed on Hannibal’s jumpsuit meaningfully. “I think we would make good friends,” Franklyn enthused. “We both like classical music, cheese -”

“This program is not for making friends, Franklyn. As a Support Alpha, I serve as a source of stability and clarity, allowing a damaged omega to rebuild their psyche. I’m not here to be their friend,” Hannibal corrected, a low warning growl lacing his voice.

“Well, yeah, but-” Franklyn trailed off stupidly.

“My last omega ward was unfortunately confined to a wheelchair after enduring extensive physical abuse. She will never walk again, but with my assistance, she gained the courage to overcome her limitations and move in with her sister. According to her most recent letter, she works as a florist and is doing well. '' He glanced down at the folder in his hands, “Your file seems.. anemic. Please detail some of the trauma you have suffered.”

Franklyn blushed at the partial-rebuke and looked down, unable to maintain eye contact with the alpha. “My father was quite mean to me,” he confided.

Hannibal returned the file folder to the box in the safety glass. He sat at his desk, crossing one leg over the other and appearing for all the world as if he was in the middle of a therapy session. “What did your father do?”

“He wouldn’t let me eat whatever I wanted. He said I needed to watch my weight because we have a family history of diabetes,” Franklyn complained as if his father was the most unreasonable brute.

“I see,” Hannibal said, steepling his fingers beneath his chin. Maybe something darker lurked beneath the surface. This might prove entertaining, after all. “What methods did your father employ to enforce his will upon you?” he asked, a hint of excitement at the prospect of violence in his voice.

“He signed me up for swimming lessons, even though I hate wearing a bathing suit! I almost drowned one day, too. No one had to rescue me or anything. I was able to swim to the side, but the water went up my nose!” Franklyn pointed to his nostril, his finger almost going inside.

Hannibal released a quiet sigh. Another disappointment. “And did a therapist or social worker recommend this program to you?” he asked intently.

“No. I was getting a pedicure and scrolling through TattleCrime when I saw an article about you being a Support Alpha affiliated with the ORC here in Baltimore. After my feet were finished, I immediately went to the rehabilitation center’s office. Space in the program is limited, but I knew I wanted to be placed here and be assigned to you. I wouldn’t take no for an answer. This is like a dream come true!” Franklyn declared without an ounce of shame.

Hannibal was no longer looking at Franklyn. He uncrossed his legs and leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and his eyes fixed on Frederick. The Director shifted nervously. Even though Hannibal was sitting, Dr. Chilton was intimidated by the cannibal’s focused stare.

Franklyn Froideveux was not suited to participate in the Omega program, much less to be assigned to Hannibal Lecter, and it was blatantly obvious. Franklyn had likely annoyed everyone involved in the process until they passed him on to the next person. Eventually, he ended up in front of Hannibal.

Frederick knew immediately that the unpleasant omega would annoy Dr. Lecter. The responsible action would have been to return Franklyn to the Rehabilitation center. However, he decided to enact petty revenge on Dr. Lecter for refusing to participate in therapy. But now, bringing Franklyn to Hannibal’s cell was starting to look like a bad idea.

“Mr. Froideveux, upon reflection, I believe another alpha in our fine facility would be a better match for you,” Dr. Chilton said. Franklyn tried to speak, but the doctor continued. “Have you heard of Tobias Budge?”

Franklyn’s attempted protests were cut short. “Tobias Budge? Yes, I’ve heard of him. He created a new sound by using human vocal cords as the strings of an instrument. I love music.” Franklyn allowed himself to be guided back down the hall. The hearts in his eyes quickly shifted from Hannibal to Tobias.

Frederick paused and looked back at the caged cannibal, “It looks like you’ll have some peace and quiet since there isn’t a suitable omega match this time.”

Hannibal did not reply; his attention had already turned elsewhere. He leaned back in the chair and pulled his latest sketch of the Duomo di Milano toward him. The alpha picked up a graphite stick and added shading around one of the windows. He would return to the lovely Italian afternoon he had planned in his mind palace later.

Franklyn’s inane babbling and cloying scent faded as the two proceeded down the hall, eventually disappearing when the door to the cell block slammed behind them.

🔪🔪

Will spent the better part of two weeks at the Omega Rehabilitation Center.

Thankfully, Bella Crawford had been assigned as his therapist, and after some coaxing, Will tearfully described a portion of the abuse he endured at the hands of his captor. Despite his progress, Will was easily overwhelmed when faced with new things and could not cope if more than a handful of people were around. His appetite should have returned, but years of ignoring his body’s hunger pangs had become a habit, and eating regularly felt foreign.

The other omegas at the Center were wary of Will. He was often defensive or overwrought, wasn’t interested in socializing, and refused to make eye contact with anyone. He spent most of his free time huddled under a soft blanket on his bed, looking out the window.

After consulting with the Director of the Omega Center, Bella Crawford suggested, and Will agreed, that a Support Alpha might be the best therapeutic tool to calm Will’s mind and reinforce that he was safe. He would select a Support Alpha based on scent and be placed in the alpha’s home to receive the kind of care he needed.

Support Alphas were volunteers, and they undertook a challenging job. They used scent, touch, and physical proximity to help traumatized omegas regain their independence. Support Alphas had to be willing and able to attend to all the omega’s needs. Whether that involved holding them through nightmares, ensuring they took their medication as prescribed, accompanying them to therapy appointments, or helping them resume healthy eating habits, Support Alphas had to be prepared for anything. Traumatized omegas could be unpredictable: sometimes violent or so apprehensive that they could become ill for no discernible reason.

Everyone at the Omega Center seemed to be on board with Will enlisting the help of a Support Alpha until he sat down in Bella’s office to pick the scent he liked best. A dozen numbered, scent-proof containers were lined up before him, each holding a small square of fabric containing the alpha’s scent. Most either elicited no response or made him wrinkle his nose in distaste. However, the seventh sample, alpha # B5160-8, smelled perfect. “This one,” Will said, still holding the scrap of fabric against his upper lip and breathing deeply.

Bella glanced at the sample number, then searched her cluttered desk for the correct file. When she opened it, her eyes widened. “Will, are you sure?” she asked. “Maybe you should smell the rest. One of them might be a better match.”

Will shrugged and sniffed the remaining samples, but none appealed to him like alpha # B5160-8. He pointed to the container with the preferred selection, “I’m pretty sure that’s the one.”

“Try them all again,” Bella encouraged, almost sounding desperate.

Will frowned but obliged. As soon as he removed the lid from the first container, he was forced to repress a gag. Struggling to keep his latest meal from leaving his shrunken stomach, Will closed the lid tightly, “No good,” he said, swallowing thickly. “Let’s stick with B5160-8.” Any more attempts would undoubtedly cause him to lose his lunch.

“Very well, Will. I will inform Dr. Bloom, and she will make the arrangements,” Bella sighed.

“Is there something wrong with the alpha I picked?” Will asked, his face beading with nervous perspiration.

“He’s… unorthodox,” Bella began. “But he has a high success rate!” she rushed to add when Will furrowed his brow and opened his mouth to speak. “If his scent appeals to you, I’m sure he will be a good fit. There’s a possibility that Dr. Bloom will conduct additional screening before finalizing your placement,” Bella said.

Will leaned back in his seat and tapped his fingers nervously on the armrest. He looked down at his knees and said very little for the rest of the session. He was busy wondering about the alpha he had selected. The scent made him feel warm and safe, the exact opposite of how he felt in Mason’s presence. Hopefully, that meant the alpha was a good person.

Bella was correct in predicting Dr. Bloom would have Will undergo additional screening to confirm he was compatible with alpha # B5160-8. At that time, he learned his Support Alpha would not come to the Omega Center to collect him. Instead, Dr. Bloom would personally escort Will to where the alpha resided.

It took a couple days to make the arrangements, but soon Will and Dr. Bloom were in the Center’s van on their way to meet the alpha. Will was nervous but more than ready to put the events of the past behind him. He was certain alpha # B5160-8 would help him recover and resume a normal life.

🔪🔪

In the BSHCI, footsteps once again echoed down the hall. Hannibal cocked his head, listening intently. It wasn’t the familiar squeak of the sneakers worn by Barney, his usual orderly. Nor did he hear the slap of the leather-soled shoes Chilton preferred. Instead, the click of high heels almost concealed the uncertain shuffle of a second set of feet.

Dr. Alana Bloom, the Executive Director of the Omega Rehabilitation Center, came into view, followed slowly by a nervous male omega. When the scent of this new omega reached Hannibal’s nose, he stood and approached the glass, instantly intrigued. The omega smelled sweet, of course, but that sweetness was laced with bitterness, like dark chocolate. It was tantalizing, alluring, and compelling. No omega’s scent had ever called to him before, luring him in like a fisherman’s bait.

The pair stopped before Hannibal’s cell, with the omega remaining partially hidden behind Alana and protected from the alpha’s view. “Good day, Dr. Lecter,” Alana greeted. Dr. Bloom was an attractive, no-nonsense Beta known for her devotion to her work. She initially harbored serious reservations over partnering her non-profit with the hospital and the dangerous inmates housed there. However, numerous studies proved that allowing alphas, either unstable or well-adjusted, to care for needy omegas benefited both participants. The process she devised to screen the alphas had proven effective, and the omegas paired with incarcerated inmates boasted as much long-term success as those partnered with alphas on the outside.

“What a pleasant surprise, Dr. Bloom,” Hannibal said, his charm on full display for the omega’s benefit. “How can I help you?”

Alana stepped to the side, taking the omega’s wrist to guide him closer. This was Hannibal’s first real look at the man. He was of average height, only slightly shorter than the alpha, though his hunched posture gave the impression of a much shorter man. He wore glasses, and his eyes were focused on his shoes. He seemed uncomfortable with eye contact, a trait common among abuse victims. The omega’s hair fell across his forehead in soft curls. It was chocolate brown, a fitting color to accompany his scent. Like all other omegas brought into the hospital for partnered rehabilitation, he wore a green jumpsuit to differentiate him from the prisoners who wore dark gray. Even with the loose fit of the jumpsuit, it was apparent this omega was gaunt.

“This is Will Graham,” Alana said to Hannibal. “Dr. Chilton mentioned your original placement was unsuited. I apologize for the inconvenience and promise to look into the matter. Will selected your scent from among many others and based on our screening, I can certify you two are highly compatible.”

Frederick probably would have rejected Will out of hand if he had the choice, Hannibal thought ruefully. The Director of the BSHCI so loved his small tortures, taking away Hannibal’s privileges on a whim. He couldn’t remove Will from the alpha’s care, however. How interesting that Alana came to the BSHCI personally to introduce Will to Hannibal. Hannibal didn’t know whether to feel flattered or offended.

Dr. Bloom turned her head and spoke soothingly to the man beside her. “Will, this is Dr. Hannibal Lecter, the Support Alpha we discussed in the van. I know you’re nervous, but he can help you, and you will be safe here.” She stepped forward and placed Will’s file in the box.

Hannibal took the file, which was much thicker than Franklyn’s single sheet of paper. It also did not include a scent sample. How very progressive of Dr. Bloom. Will was approximately 10 years younger than Hannibal and had been raised by a single father in Louisiana. He had been kidnapped in his late 20s, then sold to a wealthy, sadistic alpha, and kept in captivity for over five years.

Will had not yet revealed the name of his captor. Perhaps the omega wanted to exact revenge himself. The possibility was equally delightful and arousing. He glanced at Will and saw the omega quickly drop his gaze from studying Hannibal’s down turned face to contemplating the floor instead. The alpha repressed a smile and returned his attention to the folder in his hands.

According to the file, Will was not only subjected to physical abuse but emotional as well. He had been alternately administered either high doses of suppressants or heat inducers, though the latter appeared to be used as punishment. If Will misbehaved, he was given heat inducers and left alone to endure his heat with only bottled water and a blanket.

There were numerous scars listed on Will’s intake sheet, permanent evidence of his physical abuse. Will escaped captivity with the help of his captor’s sister, who was apparently subjected to the same emotional abuse as Will.

Will’s recovery goals included eating regularly, growing comfortable with sustained eye contact, maintaining an upright posture, speaking without being addressed first, and of course, feeling comfortable around alphas. There were other goals, more long-term, but Hannibal closed the file and resolved to read it thoroughly later. He didn’t want to ignore the omega, who was supposed to be his primary focus. Usually, he had time to review an omega’s file in depth before meeting them. This was a most unusual circumstance.

Stepping closer to the glass, Hannibal addressed the omega. “Hello, Will,” he said simply. Will didn’t reply but flinched at the sound of his voice. Omegas were genetically predisposed to trust alphas, but Will had evidently lost some of that instinctual trust, second-guessing himself even when faced with someone deemed safe. Hannibal would not hold it against him.

When the omega’s eyes remained focused on the floor, Hannibal squatted by the glass, trying to see Will’s face through his curls. Will, sensing his movement, glanced at him, their eyes meeting briefly before he returned to contemplating his shoes. That quick glance was enough for Hannibal to see vividly blue irises hiding behind those glasses, calling to mind the pure hue of a glacial lake. Those eyes belonged to someone perceptive and intelligent, not idiotic and vapid like Franklyn.

It took Alana nudging the omega before he spoke. “Hello, Alpha,” he said. Will spoke quietly, but his voice was warm and pleasant.

Alana made a sound of distress. “You don’t have to call him ‘Alpha,’ remember Will?” When he nodded, she patted his shoulder, “It’s okay. That’s one of the things we'll work on. You can call him Dr. Lecter.”

“Hannibal, please,” the imprisoned man requested before things could go further. He rose to his feet. “After all, we’re going to be friends, and friends should call each other by their first names,” the alpha added in a direct contradiction to what he told Franklyn. Hannibal smiled when Will looked at him again, maintaining eye contact longer the second time.

“Okay, Hannibal,” Will said.

“Excellent,” Alana beamed, pleased that everything had been settled. “If you’re both in agreement, I’ll ask Barney to open the door.” When there were no objections, she waved at the orderly, who monitored the security cameras at the guard’s station.

While they waited, Hannibal studied Will while Will studied the floor. Dr. Bloom fidgeted with the collar of her blouse and rotated her necklace so the charm was in the front while the clasp rested at the back of her neck.

“This is awkward,” Will said into the silence. He shifted nervously in hospital-issued slip-on shoes. Alana nodded and made a hum of agreement. Hannibal just narrowed his eyes slightly in consideration.

Even though Will was not looking directly at the man on the other side of the glass, he was conscious of the alpha's every twitch and breath. Dr. Hannibal Lecter was a man impossible to ignore, but ignoring Hannibal was the last thing on Will’s mind. If anything, it was heady to be the focus of such a sophisticated, intelligent man. Something inside him sang with joy at meeting this alpha. Was it his empathy? Or his instincts? Will had only gotten a taste, and he already craved more, like an addict hooked after a single hit.

Soon, additional footsteps were heard on the cell block, accompanied by the sound of the wheeled hand truck.

🔪🔪

Chapter Text

Barney Matthews, Hannibal’s usual daytime orderly, approached the cell, wheeling the hand truck and holding a straitjacket, restraints, and the cannibal’s custom-fitted bite mask. Two guards flanked him, one carrying a tranquilizer rifle and the other chemical mace.

“Good afternoon, Dr. Lecter,” Barney greeted respectfully. “You know the routine. If you’d be so kind as to turn around and place your hands behind your back through here,” he indicated the waist-high air hole in front of him.

“Of course, Barney,” Hannibal replied reasonably. He smiled warmly at Will, who was peeking at him through his curls. Will appeared supremely interested in this process. Hannibal turned around and placed his hands through the hole Barney indicated. The orderly quickly snapped a pair of handcuffs around his wrists.

“Thank you, Dr. Lecter. I'd appreciate it if you could stand over there and put your forehead against the wall. Remember, do not turn or move before you are instructed, or you will be maced in the face and sedated,” Barney warned as professionally as he could.

Hannibal walked to the concrete wall opposite the door and rested his forehead against it. As much as Hannibal would love to conceal this element of prison life from Will, it was unavoidable. Three times a week, his cell would be meticulously searched and cleaned. During those times, Hannibal was secured to the hand truck in full restraints. Will would not be subjected to such treatment, of course, but would be asked to either step out of the cell while the search was conducted or to stay out of the way.

The jingling sound of Barney’s keys in the lock seemed loud on the quiet cell block. The other prisoners were sleeping off their afternoon doses of anti-psychotic medication. Hannibal could sense when the door was open, freedom beckoning from beyond his four walls. Still, he remained in place. The other guards entered the cell before Barney and stood on either side of the orderly, rifle and mace leveled at Hannibal.

The custom bite mask was slipped over Hannibal’s face. He had to respect Barney for keeping his hands and arms well out of range of Hannibal’s teeth during that process. The straps at the back of his head were tightened, securing the mask in place with the edges digging into Hannibal’s cheekbones slightly.

Few were a match for his deadly speed and strength outside of full restraints. However, with hands secured and teeth out of commission, his options of resisting or fighting back were limited… though not impossible.

The guard to the left rudely shoved the tip of the tranquilizer rifle into Hannibal’s neck. The restrained man glanced at the guard out of the corner of his eye and gritted his teeth in annoyance. The officer would soon find himself in the cannibal’s mental Rolodex if he didn’t start treating Hannibal with more respect.

Behind him, Barney uncuffed one hand and guided it into the sleeve of the straitjacket. Hannibal didn’t struggle, the very picture of compliance. The last thing he wanted to do was stress Will Graham further or risk him changing his mind. Hannibal had been relatively “well-behaved” for the past several years, at least according to Frederick. That didn’t include the incident with the nurse in the medical wing, which only occurred due to intractable boredom.

After securing the straight jacket, Barney hobbled Hannibal’s ankles before bringing the hand truck closer. “Take two steps back until your back meets the cart,” Barney instructed.

Hannibal lifted his forehead from where it rested on the wall and followed the orderly’s instructions. In short order, straps around his chest, hips, and knees secured him to the hand truck, and he was wheeled closer to the glass.

“Dr. Lecter, if you have no objections, we’ll clean your cell now instead of doing it later this evening,” Barney offered.

“Oh, by all means, Barney,” Hannibal said. He turned his attention to the omega, who was now openly studying him, his restraints, and the contraption he was secured to. “Will, did you bring a bag with you?” he asked, his breath fogging the inside of the mask.

As one of the few approved Support Alphas at the BSHCI, Hannibal was afforded several amenities other inmates were not (besides the items Chilton permitted him since the incident with the nurse to ensure compliance). There was a second bed in his cell, bolted to the floor opposite his own. The bathroom area, which was just a combined toilet-sink unit and a shower head protruding from the wall with a drain in the floor, could be concealed by an opaque screen. There were two additional shelves to accommodate the omega’s belongings, such as undergarments, books, and photographs. Both alpha and omega would wear their assigned prison jumpsuits, though a new one was supplied twice a week, and the dirty ones removed for laundering along with any towels.

“Um, not… not really,” Will admitted. When he escaped the Verger house, his only possession was the stained pair of shorts he wore.

Behind Hannibal, Barney and the guards stripped his bed, riffled through his papers, poked through the supplies in his art box, flipped through his books, and checked the underside of all the furniture for stashed weapons. Then they examined the floor and walls for cracks, chips, or openings where contraband could be hidden. When they were finished, they put most of the things back into a semblance of order, though they left the sheets for him to make the bed himself.

Barney left for several minutes, returning with cleaning supplies and a rolled mattress for Will’s bed. The orderly meticulously cleaned the toilet and shower area, swept and mopped the floor, and wiped the glass free of fingerprints. Hannibal would have preferred to clean the cell himself, but Frederick would not permit his prisoner access to potentially hazardous chemicals. Thankfully, he was neat and kept his cell tidy, though he appreciated Barney’s dedication and attention to detail. The orderly had always treated him respectfully, and it was returned in kind.

In the hallway, Alana spoke quietly to Will, but Hannibal couldn’t hear what was said, not over the noise the guards were making. She appeared to be going to great lengths to reassure the omega. Eventually, Will nodded and spoke even more quietly. Whatever was said, Dr. Bloom smiled, then left Will outside the cell disappearing back down the hall.

With his inability to turn his head to track her progress, Hannibal was left with the sight of a nervous Will fiddling with the cuffs of his jumpsuit. Alana returned with an “Omega Pack,” which contained a set of high-thread-count sheets, several soft blankets, and two pillows. The bedding items had been specifically selected for omegas and were intended to be used by those placed by the Omega Rehabilitation Center. Dr. Bloom handed the pack to one of the guards, who presumably placed it on Will’s empty bed. Alana made a second trip down the hall and returned with a brown paper bag filled with prison toiletries: a towel, toothbrush, toothpaste, bar of soap, comb, deodorant, and a roll of toilet paper.

It took an hour for Barney and the others to thoroughly inspect and clean Hannibal’s cell. Usually, Hannibal retreated to his mind palace while his cell was attended to, but time passed quickly with Will and Dr. Bloom as a distraction. Before Hannibal knew it, the work was complete.

Barney approached the bound man and stood in his field of vision. “We’re finished, Dr. Lecter. We’ll do things differently today with Will here and see how it goes.” He moved Hannibal so he faced the room instead of the empty hallway. Barney motioned with his hand, and Alana stepped into the cell, followed by Will. Hannibal’s glorified cage felt smaller than usual, with so many people inside.

“Thank you for helping Will, Dr. Lecter,” Alana said, addressing the man as if he wasn’t strapped down so tightly he couldn’t even nod. “Will suffered more tragedy, over a longer period, than any other omega we have helped.”

“I’m pleased to be of assistance,” Hannibal said, his garnet eyes flashing red in the artificial light as he looked from Alana to Will.

“We’re going to unstrap you from the cart and leave. Will can take off the rest of your restraints and pass them to us through the box,” Barney said. He turned to Will, “Do you have any questions? Did you see how all the restraints are fastened?”

“Yeah. I can handle it,” Will said flatly.

Hannibal detected a hint of sarcasm in Will’s voice. How delightful. He didn’t take his eyes off Will as Alana left his cell, and Barney removed the straps fastening him to the hand truck. The two guards kept the can of chemical mace and the tranquilizer rifle pointed at him, but he ignored them.

“Step off,” Barney instructed. He watched Hannibal closely to ensure the bound man did not trip with his ankles hobbled. “Now turn to face the wall and stay in place until you are told otherwise.” Hannibal complied and waited patiently while the cart was removed and the orderly and guards backed out of the room. As soon as the cell was locked, Barney said, “Dr. Lecter, you can move now. Will, go ahead and remove the restraints.”

Hannibal wanted to turn around to face the omega, but most of the fastenings were at his back, so waiting made more sense. He stayed in place as the omega hesitantly approached. “I will not harm you, Will,” Hannibal said, a comforting alpha rumble accompanying each word.

After a moment, Hannibal felt gentle fingers in his hair as Will undid the straps holding the bite mask in place. It was uncomfortable to wear after a while, even though it had been custom-fitted to his face. The mask was set on Hannibal’s rumpled bed. Then Will dropped to one knee to unbuckle the leg hobbles. When they sat on the bed next to the mask, Will turned his attention to the straitjacket, releasing Hannibal’s arms and stepping back to allow the man to finish removing it himself. Hannibal held the jacket out to Will, who took it, and the other restraints to the box to pass through to Barney.

“Thanks, Will,” the kind orderly said. “Let Dr. Lecter or me know if there is anything you need while you’re here.” He took the restraints and returned to the guard’s desk.

Like observing fish in a bowl, Alana studied the men through the glass. Hannibal was amused to imagine himself as a piranha and Will as a goldfish. Alana cleared her throat, apparently satisfied with what she saw and ready to leave, “I’ll check in on you soon, Will. Dr. Chilton has my number if you need to contact me in the meantime. Bella will be here the day after tomorrow for your therapy appointment. I’m so proud of you for taking this step.” Will’s answering smile was somewhat strained, and Hannibal noted the omega didn’t look her in the eye either. Dr. Bloom said goodbye to both men and left with a wave, the tapping of her heels fading as she left the cell block.

At last, it was just Hannibal and Will… as it should be.

🔪🔪

As Alana walked away, Will took a deep breath and looked at his reflection in the glass, preparing himself to face the alpha. Nothing would be gained by waiting, so Will turned but couldn’t tear his gaze away from Hannibal’s shoes, exactly the same as his own, though most likely a size or two larger. The alpha was preternaturally still; even his breaths were controlled and even, barely disturbing the air around his face. Was this trait (and his seemingly endless patience) part of what made the cannibal such a deadly and efficient hunter? Most likely. After another couple of breaths, Will managed to lift his eyes to focus on Hannibal’s neck instead. Unbidden, the thought of the alpha’s scent gland, nestled at the crook of his neck and shoulder and hidden by the collar of his jumpsuit, rose in Will’s mind. A flush of color suddenly stained the omega’s cheeks and the tops of his ears. How could he be so flustered by this stranger after what he had endured? He resisted fidgeting even though the alpha’s stare felt like a physical touch, one that was not unwelcome.

Will had no idea what to expect from Dr. Hannibal Lecter. He had been Mason Verger’s captive during the height of the Chesapeake Ripper’s crimes and subsequent trial. Mason had not permitted his victim access to any form of media. Alana disclosed the basic circumstances to him on their way to the hospital, which made Will feel rather resentful. Wouldn’t it have been better to tell him well in advance, to give him a chance to get used to the idea? Especially since he would share a prison cell with the infamous criminal? Alana had nonetheless reassured Will that Dr. Lecter had undergone a thorough screening process and would not harm him. Apparently, Hannibal would consider such a thing rude. Whatever code of ethics the cannibalistic serial killer honored, Will was at least safer with him than he ever was in the Verger home.

Will silently counted to three, then looked at the alpha’s face. He maintained eye contact with Hannibal for several seconds before dropping his gaze to the man’s chin, a compromise between his neck and his eyes. The alpha was slightly taller than Will, and his blond hair had streaks of gray. Instead of being a sign of the alpha’s age, it only made the man look distinguished. Hannibal had high cheekbones, and his brown eyes had hints of red, like a garnet. His shoulders were broad and evidently powerful. He exuded a subtle confidence and strength Will had never seen before from an alpha. Will was more accustomed to alphas who were immature braggarts.

Then, there was Hannibal’s scent. It was more potent and intoxicating than the sample in the container marked Alpha # B5160-8. Hannibal’s scent was nuanced, layers upon layers, much like the man himself, Will suspected. No one could hide such darkness at their core without being skilled at concealment. Hannibal smelled like parchment, absinthe, and sandalwood. It was like the smell before the rain, combined with the sharp scent of something organic - like iron, like blood. Will refused to analyze how the scent made him feel beyond a feeling of safety.

Will looked around at the sparse furnishings, almost relieved by the starkness of Hannibal’s cell after so many years in the ostentatious mansion of his captor. Though his own “room” held only a stained mattress and a blanket, the rest of the house, which he had been paraded through for various events and parties hosted by Mason, was opulent and gaudy in the extreme.

While Will was taking in his surroundings and the man whose cell he shared, Hannibal had apparently been entertaining a similar train of thought. When he spoke, it was unexpected, and his voice unconsciously commanded Will’s attention. “As you can see, this is our room. There isn’t much privacy, but you can pull that screen to block off the bathroom area,” Hannibal said, gesturing to an area in the rear of the enclosure. “The shelves over your bed are for your use. Feel free to unpack and settle in. I need to remake my bed. If you’d like, I’ll use your bedding to build a nest for you,” Hannibal offered.

Will listened intently to the alpha. His survival at Mason’s depended on how well he listened and followed directions. Only this alpha wasn’t giving instructions. Instead, he was offering to do something for Will… to create something Will had never had before.

Will had never had a nest.

After presenting at 17, he resisted nest-building in deference to his Beta father, who was uncomfortable with obvious signs his son was an omega. After he had been kidnapped, Mason did not provide enough bedding for Will to nest, and even if he did, the cruel man would have forbidden the practice.

Now that such a fundamental activity was being suggested, Will couldn’t resist a smile. He nodded, accepting the offer. “I’d like a nest, Alpha,” he said, still looking at the taller man’s chin. He didn’t entirely trust this stranger, but his instincts urged him in that direction.

“Hannibal,” Dr. Lecter reminded gently with a smile of his own. Will repeated the name, blushing slightly. The alpha continued his verbal tour of their shared space with all the graciousness of a host. “Feel free to arrange your toiletries on the shelves. There is no storage space in the bathroom area,” he nodded to the section of the cell partitioned by the opaque folding screen. Next, the alpha gestured to the shelves next to his bed. “As you can see, I have quite an extensive collection of books. You are welcome to read any of them, though they are not all printed in English. I only ask that you return what you take to the same place when finished. Dr. Chilton or Alana can provide books if you wish. Any other hobbies or interests you wish to pursue must be approved through the BSHCI.”

“T-Thank you,” Will said, dropping his gaze to Hannibal’s chest and appearing a little lost. After a moment’s hesitation, he added, “I like to read.”

Hannibal seemed to know Will needed time and relative privacy to settle in. Since they were stuck in the monitored cell with a glass wall, privacy wasn’t something easily offered. Still, Will appreciated it when Hannibal graciously turned his attention elsewhere. The alpha continued speaking while looking at his own bed, “Feel free to look around while I work on our beds. I will ask Barney to bring a second chair for the desk. The last omega I aided was in a wheelchair, so the additional seat was removed.” He smiled at Will, a sharp closed mouthed grin, then turned to remake his bed with military precision. Occasionally, he stopped working to jot something down on a piece of paper on the desk.

While the alpha worked on his own bed, Will took in the room again, more thoroughly this time. He wanted to look at the alpha’s books and the sketches scattered on the table but thought it best to follow Hannibal’s subtle recommendation on how to use his time. Following even a vague suggestion as if it were a command had served Will well in the Verger home. It had become subconscious and helped him survive the ordeal.

Opening the brown paper bag, Will took out his toothbrush, toothpaste, a bar of soap, comb, deodorant, and a roll of toilet paper and lined them up on the shelf. He stepped back and surveyed his work. These meager possessions were all Will could claim as his own, and it was pathetic. He was pathetic. As if the alpha behind him sensed his distress, Hannibal began to sing. The doctor had a pleasant singing voice, low and reassuring. Will did not recognize the language, but by the slow, rhythmic tempo and soothing refrain, it sounded like a lullaby.

Pacified somewhat, Will moved from his side of the cell to Hannibal’s as the man finished working on his own bed and started working on Will’s. Will took advantage of the move to study the books on Hannibal’s shelves. There were titles in several languages, including French; he recognized a couple French words from growing up in Louisiana. The books in English covered a variety of genres. There were books of academic study, such as the events leading up to the French Revolutionary War, the history of Italian Opera, or a dissertation on omega-specific disorders. Others were more contemporary or entertaining in nature, like several detective mystery books and, surprisingly, a book on the life of Joan Rivers. The rest appeared more practical: growing orchids, advanced cooking techniques, or a book on perfect table settings.

Footsteps in the hallway distracted Will from his study of Hannibal’s titles. He glanced up and saw Hannibal had moved to the glass, waiting for whoever was on the cell block to come into view.

A moment later, Barney appeared. He smiled when he saw them and addressed Hannibal, “Dr. Lecter, is there anything I can do for you?”

“Ah, yes, Barney. We require a few things since we did not have time to prepare my… space for Will’s arrival.” He picked up the paper he had been writing on and put it in the box, pushing it through to Barney. The orderly studied the listed items. “I’ll work on this for you after I finish my rounds, Dr. Lecter.” He slipped the paper into his pocket. “Is there anything else?”

“Will may have some requests of his own,” Hannibal said, returning to Will’s bed to fuss with the sheets.

Barney turned his attention expectantly to the omega. Will was flustered by the unexpected attention. “Um, I’m… I’m okay for now,” he said, anxious sweat beading his forehead and upper lip.

Smiling kindly, with a flash of white teeth, Barney said, “Not a problem. Let me know when you change your mind.” Then with a nod to both of them, he continued checking the inmates on the opposite side of the hall before returning to his station.

Will was tired but didn’t dare sit on Hannibal’s bed. Instead, he moved over to the desk and sat in the single chair. Several sketches were spread out on the table. Some were of architecture, while others were reproductions of famous works of art. In some cases, it appeared Hannibal had improved on the original piece. Also on the desk was his file, containing some of the details about his abuse and his current physical condition. Will purposefully ignored the folder. He already knew all it contained and more besides. He turned his attention instead to Hannibal’s drawings. Will was just losing himself in the details of the Colosseum when Barney returned.

The orderly carried two more packs of omegan bedding under his arm. As Will watched, Barney rolled each piece of bedding until it would fit in the small box to be pushed into the cell. Hannibal stood on the opposite side of the box, removing each item and carefully refolding it before setting it on the desk by Will. The omega privately wondered how entire pillows would be passed through the small box, but Barney flattened them and packed each one into the box, quickly pushing it through before it could plump again. When all the bedding was inside the cell, the alpha thanked Barney, and the orderly left.

Meanwhile, Will was captivated by another of Hannibal’s sketches. It was a lifelike depiction of Psyche Revived by Cupid's Kiss, a sculpture by Antonio Canova. The famous marble carving was housed in the Louvre Museum in Paris, a place Will hoped to visit someday. Viewing the alpha’s drawing was more illuminating than viewing a photograph of the art. He was starting to believe Hannibal was talented enough to have his work featured in the Louvre.

🔪🔪

Hannibal returned to the nest he had been working on and stripped it to the bare mattress. Now that he had a reasonable amount of nesting materials, he could make a better nest to suit his omega. Hannibal froze for a moment at his own thoughts. His omega? He glanced unobtrusively at Will and resumed rolling the sheets into a long roll. Will is not my omega, he reminded himself. He knew nothing about this man, not even what was contained in the file on this desk. By nature, Hannibal wasn’t a trusting man, so his quick and seemingly total acceptance of Will caught him off guard.

As he worked, allowing instinct to guide him, Hannibal entertained a harmless little fantasy of drugging Will’s abuser before convincing him to cut off his own face. He would then slaughter the man, taking only the choicest pieces to prepare for Will. The remains would then be crafted into an artful display that would humiliate the deceased if he had known.

Hannibal was suddenly bombarded by conflicting thoughts as he pondered what he knew of Will and what his finely honed instincts were telling him. He wanted to wrap the omega in his arms and croon consolingly. He wanted to push Will into a defensible corner and guard him against the world. He wanted to cook all of Will’s favorite foods and lay a feast before him. He wanted to show off his strength and physical prowess. He longed to dress Will in the finest clothes and show him off to everyone he knew. He longed to tuck Will gently inside the nest he was assembling. He wanted to compose his greatest concerto, where the fast movements spoke of Will’s beauty and resilience while the slow movement was dedicated to his recovery. He ached to rut into Will’s willing body, the omega’s fingernails leaving welts on his back as his knot locked them together and his bite bonded them for all time. He wanted to slaughter a stadium’s worth of pigs to work out his rage and one abusive alpha in particular to get revenge for Will. He dreamed of running far away and taking Will with him.

Always a man who exercised superior control over his thoughts and body, Hannibal was disquieted by his restless mind. He also had to concentrate to avoid developing an erection. He had never had difficulty controlling himself around an omega before, and the realization was disquieting.

Eventually, the alpha settled on one of the more practical urges: crafting the perfect nest.

Before long, Hannibal stepped back from Will’s bed, viewing his creation from afar. He picked up an undershirt he had worn the previous day that had been carelessly tossed on his bed by one of the guards. He wrapped the shirt around one of Will’s pillows before covering it with a pillowcase. It would help familiarize Will with Hannibal’s alpha smell beyond what was detectable in the air. In fact, the air in his cell was starting to smell like both of them, a pleasing and intoxicating aroma indeed.

“Will,” the alpha called softly to gain the omega’s attention. “I have finished your nest. Please let me know if you’d like me to make any changes. Likewise, I shall not be offended if you wish to make alterations yourself.”

Will turned toward the bed before standing and approaching. The thin, lumpy prison mattress had been transformed into a soft, inviting cradle. Will would find comfort and security within its walls. Hannibal had rolled several sets of sheets until they formed a border along the edge of the mattress. He then covered it with a fitted sheet, creating a welcoming space surrounded by raised sides in the center. The inside had been built up by several layers of soft blankets and pillows to support the omega’s body as he relaxed inside. Finally, several pillows were arranged at the head of the bed, waiting for Will to nestle his head among them. The pillow wrapped in Hannibal’s shirt sat on the alpha’s bed.

Using the limited resources available, Hannibal had created a soft and inviting hideaway beyond anything Will had seen, at least based on the happy, approving tint to Will’s scent. Most omega-crafted nests were little more than several layers of blankets on top of a mattress with a few pillows thrown on top. When alphas built nests for omegas, they were usually similar in design, with the addition of copious scent-marking in the form of their own clothes or, more commonly, rubbing the blankets against their scent glands to leave a long-lasting mark.

“This… this is amazing,” Will said, wonder apparent in his voice. “I’ve never had a nest before,” he admitted. He ran his hand over the blanket on top of the nest, evidently appreciating the softness.

Standing slightly behind Will, Hannibal’s eyes widened slightly in surprise. “Truly? You did not build a nest after presenting?” The more he learned about Will, the more the puzzle pieces would fall into place.

“No… No, it would have been awkward,” Will admitted. He turned his head slightly, straining to see the alpha from the corner of his eye.

Hannibal took a step closer to Will but deeper into his blind spot. “Daddy didn’t want an omega son?” he questioned, pressing in a tone that had always encouraged disclosure from patients in the past. The insidious urge to dig deeper, to see what lay beyond the wounded exterior of this omega, was almost impossible to resist.

That question elicited a response. Will turned abruptly and met Hannibal’s eyes almost challengingly. Since Hannibal had stepped closer, when Will turned, only inches separated their chests. Their proximity didn’t stop long-repressed anger from rearing its head in Will’s eyes. “No,” Will practically growled in defiance. “My dad was embarrassed that I was an omega. Thought I wouldn’t do anything in life but take a knot. Taught me to reject what made me an omega. Put me on suppressants and forced me to act like a Beta….” He trailed off and looked back at the bed. “But his efforts didn’t help me. Those thugs still found out I was an omega and took me. I wish I hadn’t gone along with my dad’s wishes and had enjoyed being an omega while I could. Now I know it’s nothing but pain and degradation.” He sent a murderous glare at Hannibal. “I’ll never permit anyone to treat me like that again,” he warned.

Delightful boy, Hannibal thought as he looked into those threatening, rage-filled eyes. Hannibal adjusted his previous assumptions about their fish-forms. Will wasn’t a goldfish; he was a shark. A piranha and a shark trapped together in the same bowl. Though one inhabited a freshwater environment and the other preferred saltwater, they somehow occupied the same space with little friction.

Will’s brief admission (and subsequent threat) revealed more than Hannibal would learn from the unread portion of the omega’s file. As suspected, there was more to Will Graham than outward appearances would suggest. An alluring darkness lurked beneath that traumatized shell, and Hannibal vowed to nurture it, to cultivate those dark impulses as he nourished other parts of Will’s damaged psyche.

Hannibal would ensure Will recovered from his ordeal. He would see Will thrive, and Hannibal would direct every step of that recovery. He had finally found an omega worthy of being his equal.

🔪🔪

Chapter Text

A thrill shot through Hannibal at Will's declaration. He remained quiet, allowing the tension in Will's face and shoulders to dissipate. It was a respectful silence, accepting Will’s determination not to be abused or taken advantage of again.

When Will’s eyes dropped to his chin, Hannibal assured Will his instincts were appropriate. “You will deal with anyone who attempts to treat you so.” He emphasized the word “deal” to mean every connotation of the word. Will’s eyes darted up to his briefly as if searching for a lie. Hannibal was skilled at deception, but his statement was true. He sensed the darkness roiling inside Will and imagined it calling out to his own. The omega would deal fatal retribution on anyone who attempted to subdue him against his will. It was absolutely delightful.

Hannibal wholly supported those who embraced their own nature.

When Will’s focus returned to Hannibal’s chin, seemingly satisfied with whatever he read in the alpha’s eyes, Hannibal gently returned their conversation to the previous topic. “I am honored to be the first person to have built a nest for you, Will. I hope you will find the sense of comfort you rightfully deserve.” He stepped back, creating more room to put Will at ease. “Please feel free to try it out,” he said, gesturing to the nest.

Hannibal picked up Will’s file from the desk and returned to his bed to read. Even though he was not looking directly at the other bed, he was aware of Will’s every move. Hannibal placed the pillow wrapped in his shirt beneath his head and leaned back against it, rubbing his scent glands surreptitiously against the pillowcase. He had a feeling Will would require it soon.

Will darted glances between the nest and Hannibal. He appeared self-conscious about clamoring over the side and risking the destruction of the alpha’s careful bedding placement. Eventually, he raised one leg, placing his knee on the bed. He then used his hands to leverage himself over the raised edge, settling into the soft interior.

Hannibal’s ears pricked at the loud, pleased purr that left Will’s throat as he luxuriated on the bed. Rarely released in public, the alpha had not heard an omega purr since his own mother had lovingly purred while doting on Mischa. It was a sound Hannibal associated with peace, happiness, and devotion.

Hannibal seldom released a similar sound. His own alpha croon more closely resembled a low warning growl than a reassuring purr. When he permitted himself the occasional drone, he was alone or in such a place that he could not be overheard. The first bite of an exceptional home-cooked meal, prepared with only the freshest ingredients, sometimes brought forth his rumble. Other times, the thrill of a successful hunt would cause his croon if a snarl of victory would be too risky. Once or twice, the captivating performance of a soprano or an incredible violin solo had been enough to summon a quiet purr alongside his applause.

Hannibal was distracted from his thoughts when Will unselfconsciously rolled around on the blanket and burrowed into the mound of pillows, spreading his scent liberally on each item. Hannibal didn’t try to hide his fascination with Will’s actions. His garnet eyes missed no movement or contented facial expression as Will spread his scent inside the nest. The fragrance of dark chocolate thickened in the room, a delectable complement to Hannibal’s own iron-rich scent.

Suddenly, Hannibal wished they were inside his former house in downtown Baltimore, where he could prepare a proper nest for Will and ply him with rich, nutritious foods. He would have to speak to Barney about providing extra meals or snacks to nourish the gaunt omega. Per the hospital director's command, Hannibal was not permitted to hoard or retain food in his cell. What Frederick imagined he would do with an extra apple or granola bar, Hannibal could not fathom.

Eventually, the omega settled on his side, cradled in soft bedding. Will’s eyes were unfocused, but they soon grew heavy. With Will on the cusp of sleep, Hannibal returned his attention to the file propped against his raised knees. He started with Will’s hospital intake form, where his numerous injuries were documented. By the time Hannibal reviewed Will’s treatment plan, the omega had begun to shift and wiggle discontentedly in the nest. Hannibal continued reading, keeping an eye on his charge as the younger man rolled from one side to another, trying to get comfortable.

Hannibal reviewed Will’s treatment goals with interest. Unfortunately, some listed items would have to be worked on outside the hospital’s walls. Hannibal reluctantly admitted his current situation limited the types of therapy and treatment in which he could assist. The thought of a Support Alpha on the outside subsidizing Will’s rehabilitation was abhorrent, but it might be an unavoidable reality. There was little chance Frederick would allow more than a single plastic spork to accompany either of their meals, so Will’s goal of relearning to eat with silverware wouldn’t be able to progress beyond that. Likewise, his goal of feeling comfortable in a small group wouldn’t be accomplished with Hannibal. Or at least not while Hannibal was incarcerated. He may have to do something about that sooner or later.

For the time being, Hannibal was content to allow Will to settle into his current surroundings and gain a sense of stability from his presence. Hopefully, those sentiments would remain, even if the pair were in a different environment. He postponed his escape plans partially due to a lack of interest and also because he enjoyed vexing and antagonizing Frederick. Those plans would need to be revised to include two escapees. He would also make an alternate plan to escape alone and join Will, who was already on the outside.

Hannibal was distracted from his mental machinations by a discontented whine from the other bed. He sat up immediately, putting his feet on the floor and closing the file. “Will? Are you well?” he inquired.

“Something doesn’t feel right. Something’s missing,” Will lamented, rearranging the pillows again and rolling to face the wall.

“Perhaps one of my pillows?” Hannibal suggested lightly.

Will froze. “Do you think that would help?” He peeked over his shoulder at Hannibal’s bed.

Instead of replying, Hannibal picked up the pillow he had especially prepared and scented earlier and brought it to Will. There was a sheen of sweat on the omega’s brow. He must be highly agitated. Hannibal handed the pillow to Will and was immensely pleased when the omega immediately brought it to his nose and inhaled deeply. Will’s eyes closed in apparent bliss as the contented omega purr started again.

The omegan sense of smell wasn’t as highly developed as that of their alpha counterparts. An omega could identify an alpha by their scent, and while that played a role during and after bonding, it wasn’t something that drew them to their mate like it did with alphas.

“This smells like you,” Will said softly. Hannibal hummed in agreement, watching Will’s every move with fascination. He had never been so captivated by an omega before. Despite his previous experience as a Support Alpha, surgeon, and psychiatrist, Hannibal had never met anyone who caused his darkness to sit up and take notice. Even the other killers he had mentored were nothing but mere distractions. Will had potential in every sense of the word.

Will put his head on the pillow and sighed. A warm smile turned up the corners of his lips as his eyes closed. Will was soon breathing deeply, seemingly unconcerned by Hannibal’s presence. Hannibal watched for another couple minutes before gently removing Will’s glasses and setting them on the desk so the omega could rest more comfortably. He then returned to his own bed and the unfinished file.

Instead of reading, Hannibal examined his reactions to Will thus far. He was drawn to the omega, and it was more than a desire to assist the troubled man. Now that he had met Will, the thought of being away from him for any significant period or separated by a considerable distance was intolerable. Hannibal wanted to protect and pamper Will. He also wanted to hunt by his side and see what he would look like, covered in blood beneath the moon.

What did it all mean?

Hannibal had always dismissed accounts of true mates as fairy tales. No evidence had ever been documented to corroborate a couple’s claim of the “true mate phenomenon.” Being an educated man, Hannibal always believed in rigorous testing, documentation, and retesting before a theory could be considered valid. However, what other explanation could there be? Hannibal conceded that he and Will were probably true mates. No one could tell him Will wasn’t his omega. No one. The scientific community be damned.

All he had to do was convince Will, a feat fraught with challenges. It wouldn’t be easy, but it wasn’t Hannibal’s first priority. If anything, he hoped the realization would come to Will organically through a growing closeness as they worked together toward Will’s recovery.

As it stood, Will Graham was distrustful, his psyche damaged, and his instincts in disarray. But Hannibal wasn’t worried, not really. He had years of education and experience as a psychiatrist and could assist Will with issues outside of the Rehabilitation Center’s mandated therapy. With little effort, he could drive a wedge between Will and his Center-appointed counselor, forcing the omega to rely on Hannibal for his physical and emotional needs. Isn’t that what a good alpha would do?

Hannibal’s most significant obstacle would likely be his criminal record and preferred diet. However, as he recalled Will’s dark, menacing glare as he declared no alpha would ever take advantage of him again, Hannibal wasn’t so sure Will would wholly object. Destiny had selected Hannibal and Will for each other. How could either of them resist the pull?

🔪🔪

Will slept for several hours, waking to a loud rattling echoing down the cell block. When he opened his eyes, he was surprised that he had slept so well with the overhead lights on. Generally, he required darkness to rest. He must have been wholly exhausted to fall asleep in front of his Support Alpha only hours after meeting the man. Will was prepared for his chronic insomnia to continue, especially when he realized he would share a small space with an unknown alpha. While in Mason’s dubious care, Will remained awake and vigilant anytime he was confronted by his captor or one of the man’s friends. They couldn’t be trusted.

He reflected on his earlier actions and how he hadn’t felt self-conscious about lying in his nest with the alpha standing over him. He realized suddenly that he had known this man for less than three hours. Despite his embarrassment, he didn’t feel especially vulnerable in front of Hannibal. If anything, the alpha’s solicitous attitude put him at ease.

Will’s day had been filled with monumental changes, and he would need to adjust to yet another new environment. He sighed quietly in resignation. Will Graham had never felt settled, had never lived somewhere that felt safe. His father moved him around constantly. Mason changed his sleeping place from sparse room to basement to empty pig pen and back, over and over again. Then there was the hospital, the Omega Rehabilitation Center, and now Hannibal’s cell.

Will privately wondered if he would ever have a place to call home. Perhaps he should give up on the idea of a location being his home and transfer that feeling to something else instead. An object? Or a person? Of course, having a person who felt like home depended on him meeting someone who was interested. His eyes immediately darted to Hannibal’s bed, where the man lay with his hands folded over his abdomen and his open eyes staring at the ceiling. Will looked away and rolled onto his back, searching for something of interest in the smooth concrete ceiling but didn’t see so much as a pockmark or crack. Will had to force himself not to look back at the alpha lounging on his bed on the opposite side of the cell. He scoffed internally at the very idea of Hannibal being interested in him. Hannibal was his Support Alpha in addition to being imprisoned for a life term. Besides, they hardly knew each other. The thought was troubling. Despite Will’s instinctual desires, he had long ago abandoned the notion of bonding with an alpha. Still…

Ignoring his resolution from moments before, Will found himself looking back at Hannibal, who was still reclined on his own bed, eyes open, and staring at the ceiling. The man didn’t appear aware of his immediate surroundings or notice that Will was awake. Was he lost in thought? Will’s file from the ORC lay closed on the floor next to Hannibal’s bed. Will was slightly uncomfortable to have so much information about himself contained inside the file folder, yet everything included therein hardly scratched the surface of the authentic Will Graham.

The rattling sound grew louder. An unfamiliar orderly pushed a food cart into view and stopped before Hannibal’s cell.

When the stranger’s faint scent reached Will through the air holes, he ducked his head, hiding from view. As soon as he was hidden, he cursed himself for being ridiculous. The strange alpha couldn’t possibly harm him from the opposite side of the glass. He needed to get out of this circular and detrimental way of thinking. He was safe and no longer in Mason’s clutches. Will closed his eyes and resolved to count to ten before emerging from his nest.

🔪🔪

“Dinner time, Dr. Lecter,” the orderly called.

Hannibal blinked several times, coming back to himself at the sound of his name. He sat up and looked at the man on the opposite side of the glass. “Ah, thank you, Matthew,” he said, standing as the orderly put the first meal tray in the box. Hannibal retrieved it and set it on the desk as Will sat up in the nest. He had not been completely visible before, blocked by the desk and the high sides of the nest. Carefully climbing out of bed, Will glanced uncertainly at the newcomer before back down at the floor.

“Hot damn. Who’s your friend, Dr. Lecter?” Matthew asked when he saw Will, eyeing the omega up and down. Thankfully, the orderly had dropped his voice to speak quietly to Dr. Lecter as he put the second meal in the box. “Bet you're hoping for a spontaneous heat, am I right? Now that’s one fine omega ass I wouldn’t mind being knotted up in!” Matthews added, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Hannibal’s back stiffened as hot rage poured down his spine, filling his limbs with the urge to rend flesh from bone. His hands curled into fists at his sides as he resisted the impulse to thrust his hand through the nearest air vent and grip the orderly’s uniform. The image of Matthew’s forehead repeatedly striking the glass divider until hot, red blood dripped down to form a puddle on the hallway floor was compelling. Hannibal would then allow the rival alpha’s body to fall unceremoniously to the ground while he licked any blood splatter from his hand. He pictured himself roaring in triumph as he claimed his mate for the security cameras to see. Any guards who sought to stop him would meet a violent and bloody end.

Gritting his teeth against the inclination, Hannibal gave Matthew a tight-lipped smile. Will might enjoy such a possessive and protective display in the future, but it was too soon. Hannibal prided himself on the iron-clad control of his emotions and the careful planning of his actions. “When a fox hears a rabbit scream, he comes running, but not to help,” Hannibal said cryptically to the confused orderly. He then took the second meal tray from the box and turned his back on the other alpha, dismissing him entirely.

“Will, our dinner has arrived,” Dr. Lecter said, clearing his sketches and drawing supplies from the metal desk and storing them safely on a shelf. He washed his hands in the sink at the back of the toilet and returned to the table.

Hannibal examined their trays and winced at the offerings. A meal like this might encourage the other inmates to change their path and become upstanding citizens. With a sigh, he did his best with what was provided. He set the napkin beside the tray and put the spork on top. He opened the carton of milk and the water bottle for Will and placed them nearby. Finally, Hannibal added his own serving of fruit to Will’s tray. The omega needed it more than he did. The meal was hardly up to his standards for presentation or food, but he tried to make it appear appetizing.

“Please, sit and eat, Will,” Hannibal encouraged, holding out an arm to indicate that Will should sit in the single seat. “Barney will have a second chair installed when they clean our lovely accommodations next. I apologize for the blandness of the fare we have been given. I will speak to Barney and Frederick about your nutritional needs to ensure you receive an appropriate amount of calories, vitamins, and minerals each meal.” If this food was an example of what Will could look forward to in the BSHCI, ensuring the omega regained lost weight would be a challenge. He would insist that Will be provided with more balanced meals. Hannibal wasn’t above appealing to Alana for assistance if necessary.

“Let… Let me just wash my hands first,” Will said, following Hannibal’s example. He returned a minute later and sat where Hannibal indicated. A tray sat on the desk along with his glasses. He picked up the glasses and put them on, using the glare to effectively hide his eyes from view. “Are you eating too?” he asked, eyes fixed on Hannibal’s chin.

“Yes, I will dine with you,” Hannibal said, picking up the second tray and sitting on the edge of his bed with the tray balanced on his knees.

Will appeared to be wrestling with his guilt for taking the only seat, but Hannibal cleared his throat and smiled at the omega when Will looked at him. The brief eye contact seemed to calm Will as his shoulders relaxed slightly, and he turned back to examine the prison food. A single corn dog, long since gone cold and missing the traditional wooden skewer, occupied the largest area of the sectioned tray. Other sections held dry, roasted potatoes; soggy green beans; a single slice of toast; a generous handful of grapes; a single packet of ketchup; and some overly-dressed coleslaw that was already turning brown.

Hannibal watched Will closely until he started eating. The food was an embarrassment, but it was out of his control for the moment. Hannibal lost himself while he ate, imagining his food was a delicious meat pie made with fresh herbs and chopped kidneys, served on a bed of greens. The flaky crust would add a unique texture as it soaked up the rich, dark sauce, adding its buttery flavor to the dish.

When Hannibal finished, he set the tray on the floor and looked at Will’s efforts. The milk carton was empty, and half of the water was gone. Will had eaten the corn dog, the green beans, the toast, and the grapes but hardly touched the cole slaw. The slaw had nothing to recommend it, and although he wanted to encourage the omega to eat everything offered, he couldn’t in good conscience ask Will to consume something that was well on its way to spoiling. Hannibal had eaten it, of course, but it was a delicious and fresh cobb salad in his mind.

Perhaps he should teach Will the mental sectioning technique he employed when crafting his mind palace. If anything, it might help make the food seem more palatable.

Hannibal grimaced internally when he noticed Will licking his fingers, though his face maintained a pleasant expression. Will’s napkin and spork still sat beside the tray, untouched. Will had eaten the entire meal with his fingers. They would have to work on that, but the first couple of days would be too soon. Trying to correct the omega’s eating habits before he got to know Hannibal and felt comfortable in the small cell would feel more like a reprimand than rehabilitation.

“Are you still hungry, Will?” Hannibal inquired. He would request Barney fetch a snack or other food if necessary. Although logic indicated malnourishment would be expected among abused omegas, it was actually quite rare. Omegas could not go into heat, nor could they conceive if underfed. Since most alphas viewed their virility as a source of pride, it was uncommon to encounter an omega who had been starved. Hannibal considered the possible long-term health implications of being chronically hungry. He would have to monitor Will closely as he recovered to avoid refeeding syndrome.

“No,” Will said, grunting with apparent discomfort and rubbing his stomach. “That’s more than I am used to eating, actually. The hospital only provided soup, and the ORC gave me small bland meals every few hours.”

“Eating every couple of hours would be advisable to accustom your stomach to regular meals. The size of each portion can be increased, and the frequency of which you eat can be reduced over time until you reach a point where you can listen to your body’s hunger signals again,” Hannibal said. “Come, Will. Let us wash our hands.” He went to the small sink on the back of the toilet and waited for Will to join him. When they stood side by side, Hannibal turned on the water and allowed Will to wet his hands first, handing him a bar of soap and repeating Will’s steps as the omega lathered, rinsed, and dried.

“What now?” Will asked, stepping away from the bathroom area and wandering over to his nest again.

Hannibal could only see Will’s face in profile, but the omega appeared wistful as he looked at his nest, like he was fighting the urge to crawl back inside its safe walls. “Typically, after dinner, I spend my time reading, drawing, writing, or thinking. Frederick insists his ‘guests’ have adequate sleep, so lights out is generally at 9 pm,” Hannibal said, Will nodding at his words. “I admit a certain eagerness to know you better, but tomorrow will be soon enough for that. I think we can both agree your day was filled with profound changes. You may wish to take some time to order your thoughts.”

“That… that actually sounds like a good idea,” Will admitted shyly. He turned and made brief eye contact with Hannibal before returning his attention to the bed.

“I maintain regular correspondence with several individuals and have letters to write this evening. However, please know that I am entirely at your disposal. If at any time you need me, you need only call my name or whimper. You are my priority and focus, so no matter what activity I appear to be engaged in, you will not be interrupting me. Whether I am showering, using the bathroom, sleeping, writing, or seemingly lost in thought, don’t hesitate to make your needs known,” Hannibal said. He walked to his desk, cleaned up the remnants of Will’s meal, then picked up both trays, setting them on the floor near the box.

“I’m not very good at asking for help,” Will admitted with a shrug.

“I understand,” Hannibal said, approaching Will and standing beside him, almost touching. “Very few people find such a task to be pleasant. However, you have already sought help, which is why you are here. However, I am not alluding to something specific you might need assistance with. I am referring to my attention. If you need or want my attention, know it is yours. While learning more about you, I may miss your cues or desire for comfort. Please don’t be embarrassed to tell me or indicate that you need more from me. I am quite observant. Soon you will not have to ask, or at least not often.”

Hannibal watched Will fidget for a moment before continuing. “I am already growing more familiar with you and your body language. You would like to return to your nest, correct?”

Will’s throat clicked as he swallowed, “Yes.”

Stepping back to allow Will more room, Hannibal took a sheath of thick cream-colored paper from a shelf and a small pencil without an eraser and set them on the table. “We are two men trapped together in a small space. There is no need for embarrassment or self-consciousness between us. Though I acknowledge, it may take you several days or weeks to feel that level of comfort with our situation. I will do my best to ease the transition for you.”

“Thanks,” Will said, adjusting his glasses needlessly. Apparently, simply discussing Will’s need for help was uncomfortable for the omega. “Could… Could I read one of your books?” Will asked nervously. He seemed desperate to change the subject.

“Of course. Do you have one in mind, or would you prefer to browse the selection?” Hannibal asked.

“How about the one about Joan Rivers?” Will said, an adorable blush dusting the tops of his cheeks.

“Ah, yes. An insincere gift from Frederick. He thought I would find the subject tedious, but there is much to be learned from such an iconic comedian as Joan Rivers. I find knowledge is worth having for its own sake. Wouldn’t you agree?” Hannibal asked, plucking the requested book from his shelf and presenting it to Will with a flourish.

“For the most part,” Will agreed, accepting the book. After hesitating, Will crawled back into his nest, settling on the soft blankets and resting his head against the pillow that smelled like Hannibal. Propping the book up on his bent knees Will read the introduction. He didn’t look up when Hannibal started writing at the desk.

Sometime later, the rattling of the food cart could be heard near the guard’s station. Hannibal glanced over his shoulder to see Will had dozed off, the borrowed book still supported by his knees. Before he had time to settle Will more comfortably, the orderly from earlier, Matthew Brown, pushed the empty food cart into view.

“Dr. Lecter, how was your dinner?” Matthew asked, stopping beside the box in the serial killer’s cell.

“It was adequate,” Hannibal said without much enthusiasm. He put one tray in the box for the orderly to retrieve before adding the other.

Matthew put the first tray on the cart before removing the second from the box. His eyes quickly cataloged the trays to ensure the used napkins, milk cartons, water cups, sporks, and the trays themselves were intact when passed through. “One of the other orderlies told me your new friend is Will Graham, that omega that was found after going missing for years and years,” Matthew said. “I saw his picture on TV, but he’s way hotter in person.” Matthew licked his lips as he looked past Hannibal to where Will’s sleeping face was visible over the top of the nest.

“Don’t be rude, Mr. Brown,” Hannibal chided, more than a hint of warning in his voice. He shifted, blocking the orderly’s view of Will.

“Aw, come on, Dr. Lecter. You can see he's sexy just as well as I can… better, I would wager,” Matthew said with a suggestive leer. Subconsciously he leaned to the side, trying to catch sight of the omega again. “I hope I get a rotation in the camera room when Mr. Graham’s taking a shower,” the man added, primarily to himself.

Hannibal snarled and growled warningly, his teeth bared. Matthew’s eyes widened, and the orderly stepped back as Will stirred in the nest. It was apparent from Matthew’s expression that the man longed to watch an exhausted Will Graham rise from sleep. However, another low warning growl from the protective Support Alpha on the opposite side of the glass had the inferior alpha hastily grabbing the food cart’s handle and pushing it from view.

“Is everything okay, Hannibal?” Will asked, sitting up in the nest and rubbing his eyes in the most adorably innocent way the serial killer had ever seen.

“Yes, everything is fine, dar-” Hannibal stopped before the endearment “darling” slipped past his lips. “The orderly was just picking up our trays,” he added, the rattling of Matthew’s food cart drawing closer to his cell again.

“I- uh, I need to use the bathroom,” Will admitted, peeking at the stainless steel toilet at the back of the cell.

“Yes, of course. Feel free to use the facilities at any time. You can move that curtain for privacy’s sake,” Hannibal said, purposely busying himself with the half-written letter on the desk to give Will the semblance of solitude.

Will climbed from the nest and retreated to the rear of the cell. He moved the curtain, completely blocking the toilet and himself from view, just as Matthew pushed the now-loaded cart down the corridor. Hannibal fixed the other alpha with a steely, menacing gaze and was quite pleased when Matthew did not glance at his cell at all.

When the orderly was no longer in sight, a soft splashing sound came from the opposite side of the curtain. Hannibal smiled to himself. Will must have a shy bladder. He suspected it would take some time before the omega felt comfortable relieving himself in front of Hannibal. It might be better to address the matter before the omega had issues with his digestion. The toilet flushed, and the sink was turned on. Will might not be accustomed to eating with silverware, but apparently, Will washing his hands after using the bathroom was one habit even the former abusive alpha did not desire to change.

When Will came back around the curtain, Hannibal turned in his chair to address him. “Will, to put your mind at ease, know that I used to be a doctor and worked as a surgeon for many years. Bodily functions, sounds, and smells do not offend or faze me. I do not want you to feel uncomfortable or self-conscious,” Hannibal said, studying Will’s reaction intently. The omega looked at Hannibal as if he were psychic. He fidgeted with the cuffs of his jumpsuit and scuffed the bottom of his shoes on the floor. Will had apparently been worrying over that very topic. Hannibal sought to put the omega’s mind at ease. “As I said, we are two men trapped in a small space. If eliminating solid waste makes you uncomfortable, may I suggest something that has worked for myself and the other omegas I have helped?”

Will nodded, so Hannibal continued, “Use the toilet just before showering. Turn on the water to let it warm, then relieve yourself. The sound of running water will obscure any sounds, and the scent of bland institutional soap will soon replace any lingering odor. There is no limit to the number of showers you can take daily, though remember that our towels are only replaced twice a week.”

“Okay, that’s actually a good idea,” Will said, apparently relieved to have an unspoken worry released from his mind. “I only had a bucket and an old phone book…and I was almost always alone… before,” Will added, trailing off. He seemed to get lost in his own memories.

“I see,” Hannibal said, though his comment did not draw Will’s attention. Hannibal wanted to rage, to rip the very bricks from the walls. He longed to break free from his prison and emerge as a force of vengeance on Will’s behalf, like an armor-plated butterfly emerging from its chrysalis. He pushed all of that aside to focus on Will, who still appeared lost in his own mind.

Stepping close to Will but not touching, Hannibal purposefully released calming pheromones and engaged his own gravelly purr. After a few minutes, Will blinked and squinted at Hannibal as if he were a bright, hopeful beacon. “Alpha?” Will asked haltingly. Tears filled his eyes but did not fall.

“I’m here, Will. What do you need?“ Hannibal asked gently, sensing the omega was on the verge of a breakdown, likely the first of many as he dealt with the difficult job of recovery.

Instead of answering, Will leaned forward, resting his forehead against Hannibal’s collarbone. He let out a pleading whine. Hannibal immediately wrapped strong arms around the omega’s back and pulled Will into a close, supportive embrace. The alpha continued to croon, personally surprised that Will found it soothing. Other omegas Hannibal had encountered as a citizen, doctor, therapist, and Support Alpha had been put off by his gruff purr. Most even gave off the scent of fear upon hearing his croon.

Eventually, Will stopped whining, and his body relaxed into Hannibal’s warmth. Will wrapped his arms around the alpha’s waist, returning the embrace. “You will not be subjected to such abhorrent treatment again, Will. You are safe,” Hannibal said, resting his cheek against Will’s curls.

At those reassuring words, Will took several deep breaths, fortifying himself before stepping back. Will kept his hands on Hannibal’s hips, and he didn’t object to the alpha’s hands holding him gently by the shoulders. Will looked up at Hannibal, his eyes only partially obscured by the glare of his lenses. Hannibal longed to reach out and cup Will’s cheek, but it didn’t seem the right moment for such intimacy. “Better?” he asked, and his heart felt lighter when the corners of Will’s mouth turned up in a small smile.

Will didn’t seem to be in the mood to talk, which suited Hannibal just fine. He was used to quiet and solitude, but Will’s presence made him feel less… isolated. Hannibal felt seen for the first time in a long, long time. Besides his therapist, Dr. Bedelia Du Maurier, who only caught a glimpse of the monster beneath his finely crafted “person suit,” the last person who truly saw Hannibal was Inspector Rinaldo Pazzi from Firenze. And now there was Will, who Hannibal believed could see and understand all that he was.

“I realize it is early, but you seem exhausted. Might I suggest getting comfortable and retiring to your nest for the evening?” Hannibal said.

Will yawned at the suggestion of returning to his nest. “Good idea,” he said. He stepped further away from Hannibal and took his toothbrush and toothpaste from his shelf before disappearing behind the partition. The sounds of running water and Will cleaning his teeth were soon heard in the cell. Hannibal hummed to himself and returned to the desk and the letter he was working on. A cooking magazine had requested he contribute a recipe for their upcoming Halloween issue. Apparently, having a recipe submitted by a convicted cannibal would be a crowning achievement for a relatively new food and cooking publication called The Art of Consumption. Hannibal was happy to indulge the food editor’s request, carefully detailing the instructions for his Mushroom & Spinach Stuffed Hearts, substituting a cow’s heart for the human heart he preferred in the dish.

A soft grunt was heard behind Hannibal, and he turned his head just in time to see Will, dressed in only his boxers and undershirt, pulling down the top sheet and blanket of the nest and clamoring inside. Will picked up the book about Joan Rivers as Hannibal returned his attention to the recipe.

Deep even breaths came from Will by the time Hannibal finished the letter. His internal clock told him the lights would be turned off soon, so Hannibal rose from the uncomfortable stainless steel chair bolted to the floor and stretched.

Smiling indulgently at Will, Hannibal kept his back to the camera so Frederick wouldn’t have the satisfaction of seeing the alpha’s happiness. He preferred to only show the unscrupulous Frederick Chilton his aloof, stoic side. Hannibal approached Will and gently lifted the glasses from the man’s face. Bringing them to his own eyes, Hannibal realized the lenses were only glass, neither magnifying nor prescription. Clever boy. Placing a bookmark in the book Will was reading, Hannibal set it and Will’s glasses on the shelf above the omega’s bed.

With a buzz, the lights inside the cells were extinguished. The only illumination available was from the recessed lights in the corridor. Hannibal was used to darkness, preferring it in many ways. It was the perfect environment for hunting and other… carnal activities. Most alphas enjoyed limited night vision, but Hannibal’s sight was as highly developed as his keen sense of smell. He could easily see Will’s sleeping face cast in shadow from the high sides of the nest. Eventually, Will sighed and rolled away from the alpha, facing the wall instead.

Hannibal took it as a sign to retreat to his side of the room and prepare for bed. He would spend some time in his mind palace before succumbing to slumber. After his evening ablutions and stripping down to his own boxers, Hannibal crawled into bed. He settled himself on the lumpy prison mattress before stilling and listening to Will’s even breaths. The cadence lulled the alpha into a lovely recollection of a beautiful waterfront villa on the Mediterranean in Greece. He had spent an engaging summer there while attending medical school in France.

Sometime later, in the very early hours of the morning, Hannibal was roused from slumber by a hoarse cry. He immediately stood and approached the other bed, which held a sweaty, thrashing Will Graham. “Shhh,” Hannibal hushed the disquieted omega, gently running his fingers through Will’s tangled curls. Hannibal expected the omega to awaken instantly at his touch, but Will only whimpered and moved his head more firmly into Hannibal’s hand. The same lullaby he hummed earlier in the day battered the inside of Hannibal's mouth, fighting to break free and work its calming magic on Will again. Deciding to give in to the instinct, Hannibal started to hum the song that never failed to lull his darling sister to sleep. It seemed to have a similar calming effect on Will.

Eventually, the omega stilled and slipped into quiet dreams. Hannibal reluctantly pulled his hand from Will’s hair, planning to return to bed. However, Will started to whine as soon as Hannibal stepped away. Determined that Will would enjoy a restful sleep, Hannibal removed the blanket from his bed and pulled his discarded jumpsuit partway on, covering his legs while leaving his chest bare.

Sitting cross-legged on the floor next to Will’s bed, Hannibal draped the blanket over his shoulders and took Will’s hand. The omega’s whine of discontent cut off abruptly when their skin touched. Hannibal started his gruff croon again and rested his head against the raised side of Will’s nest. A soft omega purr came from inside the nest, almost too low to be heard.

The sound of that contented purr didn’t register in Hannibal’s mind, but the calming rumble soon lulled the alpha to doze. Hannibal’s throaty croon tapered off as sleep rose, but his fingers remained firmly entwined with Will’s throughout the night.

🔪🔪

Chapter Text

It was dark, and Will’s eyes were closed. Warmth surrounded him as he lay on a soft, comfortable surface. A reassuring scent filled the air, bringing to mind the smell of parchment and sandalwood. There was a deep rhythmic sound, almost undetectable at first but impossible to ignore once noticed. A wave of what could only be described as serenity washed over the omega. It felt like a dream. Will cherished pleasant dreams, especially when nightmares were far more common. He burrowed deeper into his pillow, the comforting scent intensifying as he willed himself to drift deeper into sleep. For a while, he hovered on the edge of slumber.

Suddenly, Will’s perception brightened, even with his eyes closed. Was that daylight? Was it time to wake up? Will scrunched his face and attempted to open an eye, but blinding overhead lights forced him to hastily close his eyelid again. Even though his body longed for more rest, Will’s brain was waking. Tentatively, he opened one eye again and then the other. The almost-familiar walls of the Support Alpha’s prison cell greeted him. Will was momentarily surprised to recognize his surroundings so quickly. It had taken almost a week for him to become accustomed to his assigned room at the Omega Rehabilitation Center.

After a moment or two, Will felt fully awake. He had slept exceptionally well the previous night. In fact, Will didn’t recall waking at all. It had been some time since he slept through the night uninterrupted by nightmares. The rhythmic sound broke through his consciousness. It suddenly dawned on Will that it was the sound of respiration… and not his own.

Glancing around, Will caught sight of Hannibal, or at least the top of the sleeping man’s head resting against the side of the nest. He was so close! Will resisted the impulse to reach out and touch Hannibal’s hair. The graying blond strands were soft and fine, he knew. Will recalled inadvertently touching them while unbuckling the bite mask the previous day. He hadn’t allowed himself to linger or savor the sensation, but his fingers tingled at the recollection.

Will lifted his head so he could see the alpha better. The man sat cross-legged on the floor beside the bed, a blanket draped over his bare shoulders. Will noted clinically, only in passing, that Hannibal’s chest was finely sculpted and dusted with an appealing amount of hair, not too much or too little. Will swallowed silently and averted his eyes. He wouldn’t allow himself to ogle the alpha’s half-dressed figure.

However, almost as soon as he made the resolution, Will found himself looking at the Support Alpha again. He sighed internally at his weak resolve and settled on only observing the man’s face.

Hannibal’s skin was smooth, and his features well defined, almost regal. His eyes were still beneath closed lids, and his eyelashes fanned out, resting against high cheekbones. His lips were thin, their shape taking on a natural pout. The stubble of facial hair was apparent from such a close distance, and Will momentarily wondered when and how the alpha was permitted to shave.

Speaking of, how and when would Will be able to shave? It was a good thing he preferred a fair amount of scruff. There was no evidence of a razor in the cell, and Will seriously doubted the prisoner would be authorized to retain a potential weapon.

Will nestled his head more deeply into the pillow that smelled so strongly of his Support Alpha. A serene smile spread across his face, and a blissful sigh left his lips. An outside observer would take one look and declare him smitten.

Will forced his eyes to move from Hannibal’s sleeping face, only for them to widen in surprise when he realized his fingers were laced with the alpha's. How had he not noticed before? They were touching, and somehow it felt so right. Besides Will’s unavoidable contact with Hannibal’s hair, this was the first time the two had touched each other’s skin. As unexpected as the situation was and despite full knowledge of how deadly Hannibal’s hands could be, Will had no desire to move or disturb the alpha’s sleep.

That realization led to an internal crisis. Will’s heart rate increased, and his breaths came faster. The muscles of his back and shoulders tightened like he was preparing to leap from the nest or fight off an intruder. After years of rarely experiencing positive touch, Will was overwhelmed by his seemingly misplaced desire for physical contact. Why was he allowing this alpha so close? True, Will had selected Hannibal as his Support Alpha, but were his instincts trustworthy? He had never allowed himself to act like an omega; what did he know about being one?

Will flinched when a loud buzzing sound came through the speakers in the hall. It was a sound associated with prison movies where cell doors would open following a buzzer, allowing inmates to exit for a meal or recreation. However, the inmates of the BSHCI had no such freedoms, at least not the patients on Hannibal’s ward. The noise served no purpose other than an obnoxious wake-up call.

Hannibal’s eyes opened at the sound, and he straightened with a groan of discomfort. It must have been an extremely uncomfortable position to find himself in upon waking. The alpha seemed surprised by his location until his eyes met Will’s. Then, he smiled. “Good morning, Will,” he said, faint indentations from the blanket lining the side of his face. He didn’t release Will’s hand.

“Hi, uh, Hannibal. What are you doing over here?” Will asked, the question coming out more bluntly than intended. His heart raced in anticipation of the alpha’s answer. He hadn’t allowed himself to ponder the reason earlier.

“You were plagued by unpleasant dreams during the night,” Hannibal replied. “However, you seemed more… settled when I was close.” He gently squeezed Will’s hand in emphasis before releasing it, though he seemed reluctant to do so. The alpha carefully pushed himself to his feet, using the edge of Will’s bed for leverage. He must have lost circulation to his legs from sitting, unmoving, for so many hours on the concrete floor.

Will took Hannibal’s place behind the screen after the alpha reappeared, relieving himself with a quiet sigh of relief. He washed his hands, then went to his shelf to get his toothbrush and toothpaste. Will had not been permitted to leave the house, let alone visit a dentist, during the five years under Mason’s dubious care. The Omega Rehabilitation Center had arranged for his teeth to be cleaned and several cavities filled when he arrived. Brushing his teeth still felt like a luxury to Will.

By the time Will emerged from behind the screen, Hannibal had straightened both his own bed and Will’s nest. He smiled at Will and gestured to the towel, change of clothes, and toiletries he held. “I’m going to shower and dress for the day. Barney should bring our breakfast soon. Do you feel comfortable putting our trays on the desk if he arrives before I finish bathing?” he asked, giving Will a searching look.

“Sure. I can handle that,” Will said, purposefully shifting so that the glare from the overhead lights obscured his eyes behind the lenses. He had no desire to slip into Hannibal’s mind, not with so many issues of his own to deal with, though he appreciated the alpha’s subtle encouragement towards independence.

Accepting Will’s word at face value, Hannibal disappeared behind the screen. The sound of running water was heard a moment later. The screen blocking off the bathroom area of the cell was opaque, but the silhouette of the alpha’s form could still be seen through it. Will flushed with embarrassment as if he had been caught peeking through someone’s window. He cleared his throat and purposely turned away, directing his attention to the sparse items on the shelf by his bed. Everything appeared to be in order. Will was accustomed to entertaining himself without outside stimulus, so he sat in the chair at the desk and stared into the middle distance, his mind moving from one topic of thought to another.

Soon, a rattling sound echoed down the cell block. That must be breakfast, Will thought. The sound grew in volume as the cart approached. Hannibal was still in the shower, so Will stepped to the glass, prepared to accept the food trays. However, the same orderly from the night before arrived with the cart instead of Barney.

Will could tell this man was an alpha from his scent: newsprint and cigar smoke. He sported short black hair, and his ears extended slightly from his head at an admittedly appealing angle. He wore a lab coat over a set of white scrubs, and his name tag read “M. Brown, Registered Nurse.”

The orderly smiled genuinely when he saw Will waiting at the glass inside Hannibal’s cell. His eyes darted around, and he seemed pleased that Hannibal was not in sight. “Hello, Mr. Graham, I’m Matthew Brown,” the orderly greeted. He took a tray from the cart and placed it in the box to pass through to Will. “Are you settling in okay?” Matthew asked, concern evident in his voice.

Will rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously. It was unnerving to be the focus of this new alpha. “So far, I think so, yeah,” he eventually answered.

Matthew openly ogled Will standing there in his underclothes. He seemed distracted when he spoke again. “Is there anything you need?” he asked.

Will stared at Matthew, embarrassed to be so blatantly checked out. “Um, no, I’m fine,” he said, surreptitiously observing this new alpha and parroting his standard answer for the man’s benefit.

“Ah, but that isn’t exactly true, is it, Mr. Graham?” Matthew asked, one side of his mouth quirked up in a sheepish grin. Without waiting for Will to reply, he continued, “I like to observe people, you see. I can tell the answer to a yes or no question just by watching the dilation of a person’s pupils. Your mouth said ‘no, you don’t need anything,’ but your eyes said ‘yes, you do.’” He picked up the second tray but held onto it as he observed Will.

“How do you know my name?” Will asked instead of answering the alpha’s question. He had too many outstanding needs to list them all, which is why he had opted for rehabilitation with a Support Alpha. Will was careful to look at the shorter orderly’s name tag instead of his face. He wondered idly if Matthew was really a registered nurse. He strongly suspected the alpha was imitating other orderlies, but he refused to allow his empathy free reign to dig deeper into the other man’s motivations.

Matthew put the second tray in the box and passed it through to Will. “Dr. Chilton updates the staff on the goings-on here at the BSHCI, but besides that, I read an article about your kidnapping and escape. I think you’re very brave, Mr. Graham.” He cocked his head to the side and smiled at Will before looking down almost shyly, appearing as overwhelmed by Will as an avid fan finally meeting their idol for the first time.

Just then, Hannibal turned off the water, and Matthew straightened, looking past Will to where the other alpha was concealed by the screen. Matthew put his hands on the meal cart, ready to push it toward the next cell. Before leaving, he nodded to the second tray in Will’s hands. “I hope to talk to you again soon. Be sure to eat, Mr. Graham, so you can regain your strength,” he quietly advised before leaving.

“I see breakfast has arrived,” Hannibal said, emerging from behind the partition several minutes later. He was wearing fresh clothes, and his damp hair was neatly combed. He hung his towel over the screen and sat on his bed to don clean socks before slipping on his shoes.

“Uh, yes, it has,” Will said, staring blankly down at the tray for a moment before hastily setting it on the table. He shifted from foot to foot, internally cursing his lack of social skills and the years of captivity that exacerbated the problem. “How was your shower?” he blurted as soon as Hannibal was on his feet again.

Hannibal’s thin lips pulled into a soft close-mouthed smile. He seemed pleased by Will’s inquiry. “It was pleasant. Frederick should be commended for the hot water in this place, if nothing else. It eased my aches from sleeping on the floor.”

“I’m sorry for-,” Will started to say, but Hannibal brushed aside Will’s apology with a slight wave.

“Think nothing of it. Helping with sleep and dealing with nightmares is the job of a Support Alpha. I am pleased my presence allowed you to sleep peacefully. I will not pressure you, but if you wish to discuss your dreams, I am happy to listen and offer whatever assistance I can.” The alpha waited to see if Will had any response before changing the subject, “Now, let’s see what Barney brought us for breakfast.”

“It wasn’t Barney,” Will said, fiddling with the spork on one of the trays.

“Oh?” Hannibal inquired just as Matthew pushed the food cart into view, heading toward the cell block’s exit. The orderly pointedly kept his eyes in front of him and ignored Hannibal’s intense stare. Before he was out of sight, Matthew glanced at Will out of the corner of his eye so quickly that the omega wondered if he imagined it. Will was so busy watching the orderly that he missed the warning glare Hannibal gave the other alpha.

Once Matthew was out of sight, Hannibal drew Will’s attention to himself by stepping beside Will to study their breakfast. He didn’t seem to notice that the sleeve of his jumpsuit brushed against the Omega’s bare arm. To an outside observer, the move would appear unintentional. Will was too overwhelmed by the alpha’s scent to analyze their proximity in depth. Hannibal’s absinthe and iron smell was mouthwatering, despite the overlying generic fragrance of institutional soap.

“This breakfast is a slight improvement on last night’s dinner,” Hannibal observed with a rueful grin. “Though I don’t think it is adequate to meet your nutritional needs as you recover.” Each meal included a small cup of coffee and two packets of artificial sweetener, a glass of milk, and another of apple juice. The sectioned tray also held a scoop of grits, three pancakes, two pats of butter, and a small plastic cup of maple syrup.

Will’s stomach growled loudly. He flushed and looked down, evidently embarrassed. Despite Hannibal’s backhanded comment about the food’s appeal, it was actually more food and more variety than he typically received during his captivity. If Mason deigned to feed Will breakfast at all, he often provided the omega with little more than a bottle of water, a tiny box of dry cornflakes, and sometimes a banana. Though Will had obviously been given more generous meals at the hospital and the ORC, the prison meal laid out before him almost seemed like a feast.

Hannibal seemed resigned by Will’s rumbling stomach but took a moment to arrange the omega’s tray in a visually pleasing manner. He then stepped back and gestured to the lone chair. “Please, Will, have a seat and enjoy your breakfast,” he said. He picked up his own tray and sat on the edge of his bed as he had done the previous evening. He took a bite of grits and grimaced. “If I was permitted the ingredients and facilities, I would prepare a more wholesome and filling meal for you.”

“What would you make?” Will wondered. He ignored the spork again and used a rolled-up pancake to scoop up the cooling grits. When the grits were gone, he rolled the remaining pancakes and dunked them in the syrup as he ate.

“A protein scramble made with eggs, sausage, onions, garlic, fresh tomatoes, and Italian parsley,” Hannibal answered immediately. “It would provide adequate nutrients and calories to help energize your body for the day.”

Will unconsciously closed his eyes and licked his lips at the description. “Sounds amazing,” he admitted. Then, he froze and looked at Hannibal warily. “What kind of sausage?” he asked cautiously.

“Pork, of course,” Hannibal said with a seemingly innocent air that Will could see right through.

“Considering you refer to your victims as ‘pigs,’ that doesn’t give me much confidence,” Will said, adding artificial sweetener to his lukewarm coffee and stirring it with his index finger, once again forgoing the provided utensil. It felt odd to discuss the slaughter, butchering, and cannibalism of other humans in such a blasé manner.

Hannibal gave Will a tight, closed-lip grin, but then his lips parted, and his smile widened to reveal slightly uneven teeth and naturally sharp canines. Will thought the alpha resembled the Cheshire Cat more closely than any drawing he had seen of the fictional feline. “I would serve you the finest ingredients it was within my power to provide, whether that be a protein, dairy product, or the freshest produce.”

“I’m going to assume you’re referring to pigs that squeal,” Will said flatly, downing the watered-down coffee in several gulps.

Hannibal chuckled and glanced at his tray before looking up at Will again. He was almost surprised to find Will’s gaze met his own. “I think you’ll find, Will, that all pigs squeal in the right circumstances,” the alpha said.

“Yeah, but-” Will started, but Hannibal continued.

“Tell me this, Will. Knowing what you know about me, if I brought you a meal while you were being held against your will and all but starved, would you have balked at consuming my dish?” Hannibal asked, cocking his head to the side while waiting for Will’s response.

Will recalled days of desperate hunger, where Mason did little more than open his door enough to chuck a single water bottle into the room before locking the door again. He had been hungry enough once to eat some plaster he managed to gouge out of the wall with his fingernails. Will had been so desperate he would have eaten anything, even Hannibal’s questionably sourced proteins. “I would have eaten it,” the omega admitted after an internal struggle. The decision wasn’t as heartrending as he expected, though the admission to himself and Hannibal was far more difficult. What did that say about him, that he would knowingly consume human flesh without hesitation? Or, at least, he’d be willing to under certain circumstances. And Will knew that if you permitted something during one set of conditions, it was easy to justify that allowance in a different situation. The so-called “slippery slope” was covered by ice and topped with liquid detergent for good measure.

Hannibal appeared inordinately pleased by Will’s admission, going so far as to close his eyes in bliss as if the words were as lovely to his ears as the most poignant violin solo. For a moment, Will thought he heard the alpha mutter “perfect boy” under his breath but dismissed the thought as absurd. When he focused on Hannibal again, the alpha met his eyes. “And what if you kept eating long pig and developed a taste for it?” Hannibal asked intently.

As Will returned the alpha’s gaze, the pendulum swung. It’s freezing outside, and we are starving. She has been sick for several days, and they took her away. I hope she will return soon. They bring me a bowl of soup. I eat every bite and am grateful this broth will help me survive another day. When I discover the truth of her fate, I…

Will violently shook his head, forcing himself from the other man’s memory. When he was back to himself, he focused on Hannibal’s chin. “Is that what happened to you?” he asked. Will didn’t know much more than the basic facts of Hannibal’s crimes: the purported number of victims, his propensity to create human-art, and of course, the cannibalism. He also knew that the reason Hannibal chose his victims was known only to himself and that very little was known about his background or childhood.

“Nothing happened to me. I happened,” Hannibal said in a tone that ended the subject and didn’t invite a revisit of the topic. Then he smiled rather unnervingly, “Drink your apple juice, Will. I encourage you to shower after breakfast. The soap is drying on the skin, but as I mentioned, the temperature more than makes up for it.”

Will nodded and dutifully picked up the apple juice, finishing it in a series of sips, his eyes focused on his bare knees. He felt Hannibal’s eyes on him, cataloging his every move. When finished, he returned the cups, napkin, and unused spork to the tray. With a quick glance at Hannibal, Will stood and retrieved his towel, change of clothes, and bathing products from his side of the cell and disappeared behind the screen.

🔪🔪

Hannibal continued watching Will’s obscured form until he heard the water turn on, and the omega’s outline showed Will was seated on the toilet. Hannibal cleared his throat and turned his attention to finishing his meal and placing the trays by the glass to be returned to the orderlies.

While Will was occupied, Hannibal unzipped his jumpsuit and pushed it off his shoulders. He tied the sleeves around his waist, leaving his torso covered by a thin undershirt. He spent several minutes stretching his muscles. Proper stretching was always important before a workout. Though the unhinged prisoners on Hannibal’s block were denied access to the on-site gym, that did not mean the alpha was denied any form of exercise. He leveraged his body weight while working out with a series of squats, lunges, push-ups, shoulder presses, sit-ups, glute bridges, and jumping jacks.

He was still exercising when Barney appeared pushing the food cart. “Good morning, Dr. Lecter,” the orderly greeted.

“Good morning, Barney,” Hannibal said with a polite nod of the head. He stood before the glass with his hands at his sides, panting slightly. “You were not here this morning,” he said in an almost accusing tone, hints of alpha annoyance underlying the words.

Barney’s eyes widened, and he cleared his throat, seeming apologetic. “Uh, yeah, I had a doctor’s appointment this morning. I went to see about the thing you mentioned, and it turns out you were right. They do suspect I have diabetes. I’ll have the bloodwork results tomorrow, and we’ll go from there.”

“Ah, yes, very good. Diabetes can go undetected for some time without being noticed, but my sense of smell is highly attuned and allowed me to scent your chronically high blood sugar. I am happy to provide tips for managing your sugar levels and avoiding complications.”

“Thank you, Dr. Lecter. I appreciate your help and advice,” Barney said respectfully.

Hannibal picked up one tray and then the other, passing both through the box to Barney, who checked each thoroughly to ensure that only the food the men consumed was left behind inside the cell. Hannibal was extremely pleased Barney had sought medical care based on his recommendation. The alpha liked and respected the head orderly, who always treated him courteously and decently. He didn’t begrudge Barney for doing his job; instead, he appreciated the orderly’s competence and professionalism.

“I may have a few other appointments in the coming days and weeks while they confirm the diagnosis and establish treatment and nutrition plans,” Barney mentioned as he prepared to move the cart onto the next cell.

“Of course,” Hannibal said with a placid smile as Barney left. He contemplated returning to his workout. He had been interrupted before his heart rate picked up too much. Barney had come by to collect the food trays much sooner than usual. He must have been eager to confirm the patients he was responsible for were adequately attended to since another staff member had handled his typical morning duties.

Behind the screen, Will turned off the water, and Hannibal heard the rustling sounds of the omega drying off and dressing. When Will appeared several minutes later, Hannibal couldn’t resist staring at his damp curls and cheeks pinked from the warm spray. The alpha was never the kind of man to shy away from openly admiring the things he appreciated. Few people had truly impressed him, but Will had earned a spot on the list. It had to be a manifestation of the true mate phenomenon. Why else would he be so drawn to someone he had met less than 24 hours ago? Still, looking at Will, Hannibal could not regret the decision fate took out of his hands. Destiny had selected a pleasing and worthy partner indeed. Who knew what hidden gems were yet to be discovered within the omega’s psyche? He had a feeling Will was much more perceptive than he let on.

At first, Will seemed oblivious to Hannibal’s gaze, returning his few toiletries to the shelf and hanging his towel beside Hannibal’s over the privacy screen. The rattling of the food cart as Barney returned to the guard desk after collecting the trays from each cell drew Will’s attention to the glass and Hannibal standing nearby.

Will smiled uncertainly at Hannibal and combed his curls with his fingers. Hannibal’s hand itched to work a curl cream through that soft-looking dark hair, then twirl each curl around his finger to ensure it set properly. The alpha could only dream of one day having such an opportunity. For now, all he could offer was bland prison shampoo.

Hannibal went to his shelf and picked up a notebook. “There’s something I’d like you to try, Will,” Hannibal said, looking down at the notebook in his hands and flipping through the blank pages. His attention on the item must have piqued Will’s curiosity because the omega stepped up beside Hannibal and looked down at what he held before looking at his face questioningly. Hannibal caught Will’s eye and smiled. “It’s a technique that I believe will be extremely helpful for you,” he admitted, handing the notebook to Will.

Will flipped through it, seemingly surprised that all the pages were blank. “I’m not much of an artist,” he said, glancing at Hannibal’s drawings on the wall.

“Instead of drawing, I want you to record your thoughts. Take some time at least once a day, more if you are inclined, to write whatever you think or feel. It could be your hopes for the future, memories of any kind, thoughts on your recovery, dreams, or anything at all. The most important part is examining your mind and putting your introspections into words. The act of organizing and writing will help you process your feelings,” Hannibal explained.

“I suppose I can try,” Will sighed. “Sounds like one of those stereotypical therapy techniques, though. How much does this really help people? Seems a bit like busy work.”

Hannibal chuckled and tapped the cover of the notebook in Will’s hands. “I’ll admit it is a bit cliché, but I promise it will greatly assist with ordering your mind. Once you are used to sorting and recording your thoughts on paper, I’d like to teach you a mental categorizing technique that I, myself, employ.”

Will pursed his lips thoughtfully. “Couldn’t hurt,” he said with a shrug. “Though I’ll warn you, my handwriting will probably be atrocious. It’s been a while since I have written more than my name, and that was only recently for hospital intake forms. You might have trouble reading it.”

“You do not need to write anything for me. This exercise is purely for your benefit. Think of this notebook as a diary of sorts. I will not invade your privacy. However, if there is something you wish to share with me, I would welcome a conversation with you. I believe one of your recovery goals was to feel comfortable around alphas. Speaking about our pasts and hopes for the future will further that.”

Will met Hannibal’s eyes. The older man had the distinct impression that Will was seeing far more than Hannibal allowed to show. “I’ll give it a try,” Will said, reluctance apparent. “And,” he added after a moment, “that includes these ‘conversations,’ too.”

Hannibal smiled and continued smiling at the top of Will’s head when the omega looked down to flip through the notebook again. However, he frowned when he noticed Will’s hunched shoulders and slightly bent back. Will was assuming a meek, cowering position, an attempt to make himself appear smaller than he was. Will did not smell frightened or nervous, so adopting such a stance was an unconscious habit. The two men were similar in height, though Hannibal was slightly taller and sported a much more robust build. He recalled that one of Will’s goals was to improve his posture, and the alpha contemplated the best way to go about it. Several ideas came to mind, and he filed them away for later.

“Would you like to work on it now?” Hannibal asked when Will did not speak or move. The omega nodded, so Hannibal gestured toward the table and chair. Will smiled without making eye contact and sat. He put the notebook on the table in front of him. Hannibal handed him a ballpoint pen constructed almost entirely of cardboard and plastic. The only part made of metal was the tip.

“Thanks,” Will muttered distractedly, his mind apparently on what he intended to write. Hannibal was pleased to see the omega embrace his journaling suggestion. Will hunched forward as he started to write, wrapping his free arm around the notebook like a student trying to hide their test answers from those seated nearby. Hannibal grimaced at the position and lamented the strain on Will’s back.

Mindful of the example he was setting, Hannibal picked up a book and sat on his bed. Modeling proper posture would be easier when a second chair was installed in the room. For the time being, Hannibal kept his back as straight as possible, mimicking the posture he often took as a psychiatrist when opposite a patient. He held the book propped against his leg, slightly out in front of him, so he wasn’t placing undue stress on the muscles, tendons, and ligaments in his neck by looking down.

Will seemed intent on what he was writing, and Hannibal lost himself in the medical journal. A while later, the familiar sound of Barney’s shoes was heard on the block. It was the usual time the BSHCI distributed medication to its patients. Hannibal did not have a condition that would be improved by pills. He was sentenced to a life term in a mental health facility due to the unusual nature of his crimes. It was easier for a jury to believe him insane than face the truth that he enjoyed the lifestyle and diet he created for himself. The alpha never paid attention when Barney made those rounds in the morning and evening, distributing small paper cups with pills to the other inmates on his block.

When Barney unexpectedly stopped before Hannibal’s cell, the alpha looked up sharply, only to see the orderly watching Will. Closing the book with an audible snap, Hannibal stood from the bed and approached the glass warily. Was this some new ploy by Frederick?

“Dr. Lecter, I have Mr. Graham’s suppressants,” Barney said, indicating a small paper cup containing a single light green pill. From the corner of his eye, Will looked up from the notebook. He closed the journal and placed the pen on top before standing beside Hannibal.

Hannibal suppressed the approving grumble he wanted to emit at Will, standing confidently by his side instead of slightly behind him the way abused omegas often did. Though he felt sure it was a sign of the true mate phenomenon working on Will’s instincts, he pushed those thoughts aside to address the matter in front of them. “Who is the prescribing physician?” Hannibal asked calmly. He pursed his lips, clearly unimpressed. “There was no record of suppressants or any other prescription medication in Will’s file.” He turned to Will and asked, “Were you aware of this?”

“Uh, no. I mean, it’s not a bad idea. I’m not anxious to experience a heat anytime soon. Still, I thought one of the advantages of selecting a Support Alpha is that close proximity would allow my hormones to regulate naturally.”

“Indeed,” Hannibal agreed with a nod. Both the alpha and omega looked at Barney expectantly.

“I don't rightly know, Dr. Lecter, Will,” Barney admitted. “This cup with Will’s name was given to me along with the rest of the medication for this ward. I will check the records and get back to you.” He held up the cup with the light green pill. “Do you want to hold onto this, Will?”

Hannibal felt Will look to him, possibly for guidance, but he made no attempt to answer the orderly on the omega’s behalf. “I’ll wait until I know who is trying to play god with my cycle and hormones… and why,” Will said after hesitating.

“I’ll find out after I have given out the rest of these,” Barney said, indicating the other cups of brightly colored pills on his tray.

“Thank you, Barney,” Hannibal said. He turned as the orderly walked away and regarded Will. Will turned slightly to his journal before looking back at Hannibal. The alpha waited a moment to see if Will would speak, but it appeared he would have to be prompted. Speaking without being addressed first was something they needed to work on. “Would you like to continue with your journal?” he asked.

Will’s breath left him in a gust as if he had been holding it in nervous anticipation of the alpha’s next move. “Yes, I’m almost done,” he said. Hannibal nodded and returned to the medical journal but held off reading until he saw Will again engrossed in the notebook.

Sometime later, Barney returned to the cell. He waited until Hannibal and Will stood on the opposite side of the glass and looked pointedly at the security camera. “Dr. Chilton ordered Will’s prescription,” he whispered.

Hannibal’s lips tightened into a disapproving line. “I see,” he said. “Would you please request that Frederick pay us a visit? There are a couple of things regarding Will’s care I would like to discuss with him.”

“Of course, Dr. Lecter. I’m not sure how quickly he will come. You know how he is, but I’ll let him know right away,” Barney said at a more normal volume.

Hannibal gave a nod of thanks as the orderly left again.

“Why would Dr. Chilton prescribe suppressants for me? I only saw him briefly before Dr. Bloom brought me to meet you, and I don’t remember speaking to him at all,” Will said.

“We will see what kinds of answers he has for us when he arrives,” Hannibal said. He then sat on his bed while Will curled up in his nest. They spent the next little while discussing their favorite desserts.

Frederick didn’t deign to visit Hannibal’s cell until it was almost lights out. Hannibal was vexed at the man’s inattention and rudeness to Will. During those intervening hours, the alpha and omega started to learn more about each other. Also, a disappointing lunch and dinner were delivered, each wholly unsuitable to Will’s need to battle his ongoing malnutrition.

The slap of the doctor’s favorite leather-soled shoes could be heard long before the man himself appeared. Instead of looking at the men inside the cell, Dr. Chilton paid more attention to his cane, twirling it in his hand so the tip ground against the concrete floor. “What is this about Hannibal? I’m ready to go home,” he said, sounding bored and irritated.

Hannibal couldn’t bring himself to thank the man for his reluctant presence. Nor could he claim it was a pleasure to see him. Instead, Hannibal got right to the point. “Frederick, I have some items to address regarding Will’s care during his stay here.”

“And what items would that be, Hannibal?” Frederick asked, emphasizing the alpha’s first name in a petty attempt to get back at the man for refusing to use his title.

“Firstly, Will needs more filling and varied meals than he is being provided. He would benefit from multiple small meals throughout the day and access to snacks in between. The food he receives should be carefully balanced to ensure he consumes the necessary calories, vitamins, and minerals to regain lost weight and replenish his starved system. The second matter is the pills that-” Hannibal said.

“Now, Hannibal,” Frederick interrupted chidingly as if he was explaining a complicated concept to a simpleton. “As you know, there is no preferential treatment here among the prisoners. He will be given the same meals as the rest of the inmates. I’m sure it has everything Mr. Graham requires.”

“Will is not a prisoner or an inmate,” Hannibal said so quietly that Frederick had to step forward and lean closer to the glass to hear him. When the Director realized what he had done, he stepped back hastily and nervously wiped his sweaty palms on his slacks. Hannibal made no effort to hide his amused smirk. “As a doctor and Will’s Support Alpha, I recommend -” Hannibal began before being rudely interrupted by Dr. Chilton.

“He eats what all of you eat, or he can find ‘support’ somewhere else,” Frederick said sharply. Hannibal knew the sudden attitude stemmed from Frederick’s animosity towards Hannibal, his dislike of being talked down to, and his opposition to being ordered around.

“I see,” Hannibal said flatly, refusing to match the irate administrator’s negative energy.

“How do you explain those pills?” Will suddenly demanded, apparently unwilling to let the topic be overlooked. He glared at the man on the other side of the glass with narrowed eyes.

Cunning boy, Hannibal thought as he watched Will confidently address the man so obviously beneath him.

Frederick looked at Will and sighed as if answering the omega’s question was an enormous inconvenience. “What pills are you referring to?”

“Barney said they were suppressants,” Will said.

“Oh, yes,” Frederick said disinterestedly, examining his cane again. “We wouldn’t want you to go into heat here, now would we?” He ceased looking at his fingers and instead looked the omega up and down pointedly.

The only physical sign of Hannibal’s anger was his clenched teeth. With any luck, the hospital director would mistake the expression for a smile. “Interesting,” the alpha said, cocking his head to the side as if contemplating the other man’s words. Frederick puffed up slightly under Hannibal’s assumed approval, only to deflate when the alpha spoke again. “I find it very interesting that you would prescribe medication for someone who is not your patient and who you have never had a conversation with, much less examined.”

“I am a professional,” Frederick defended.

“Indeed?” Hannibal questioned. “I’m curious. Where did you receive training in the proper standard of care for male omegas of child bearing age?”

Frederick abruptly turned on his heel and headed back toward the ward exit, apparently done with the conversation. His cane made a discordant clicking sound that echoed down the hallway.

Hannibal wasn’t finished, however, so he raised his voice to direct a few pointed questions to the retreating man’s back. “Did you consider his age and bonding status when selecting the most appropriate medication? Was the dosage calculated based on his current weight? Do you even know how much he weighs?”

Frederick didn’t bother to answer unless the slamming of the cell block door could be counted as a reply.

“I don’t understand. Why is Dr. Chilton like that?” Will asked, glancing at Hannibal.

“Frederick is a poor excuse for a doctor with no hobbies other than playing with his cane and masturbating to The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders.”

Will couldn’t suppress a snort of amusement.

“As your Support Alpha, I would advise not wasting your thoughts on him,” Hannibal said. His smile was affectionate, and he made no attempt to hide that fact.

‘True, but wait until Bella finds out. That cane will cease to be a fashion accessory and become a necessary ambulatory device,” Will said, smiling at Hannibal before ducking his head. Even with his head lowered, he was still smiling.

“I look forward to meeting Bella Crawford,” Hannibal said approvingly. “Her husband is… an acquaintance of sorts. I think she and I will find we have much in common.”

🔪🔪

Chapter Text

It’s a well-known fact that jails and hospitals have distinct odors. Anyone who has been a guest of either facility would be eager to wash away the smell upon returning home. The Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane boasted a particularly pungent stench that called to mind the worst elements of both institutions. The tang of industrial cleaners tried valiantly, though ineffectually, to cover the stink of sweaty socks, old food, excrement, and stale air.

In the parking lot, Bella Crawford stepped out of her vehicle and looked up at the imposing building that housed some of Maryland’s most notorious psychopaths. She strode towards the entrance with determination, clutching her briefcase.

Bella was a tall, elegant woman who wore sternness like a cloak to veil the bone-deep compassion at her core. She was committed to her client’s recovery, wielding the metaphorical carrot and stick with equal skill. Those who had gone toe to toe with Bella would call her formidable. Those under her wing would call her a paragon. Though she sometimes felt like a background character to her husband’s illustrious career with the FBI, Bella found her own contributions fulfilling on every level.

A behavioral therapist by training, Bella’s passion was assisting traumatized omegas in overcoming their past. As a Case Manager for the Omega Rehabilitation Center, she had an appointment with Will Graham for his first therapy session after being placed with a Support Alpha (and an infamous one, at that).

One step inside the BSHCI was enough for Bella to wrinkle her nose in disgust and not only from the smell. The lobby was filled with drab decor: uncomfortable-looking chairs with peeling plastic upholstery, outdated magazines tossed haphazardly on a table, and small bowls of dusty potpourri that had long ago abandoned any attempt to disguise the reek.

Since the waiting area didn’t tempt her to linger, Bella headed directly to the check-in counter, where a wilting bouquet of daisies and a sign-in sheet welcomed her. A bored employee reluctantly stopped filing her fingernails to check Bella’s identification and issue a visitor’s badge.

After scanning her briefcase and person, Bella was led to the ward where Will temporarily resided with his Support Alpha, Dr. Hannibal Lecter. Bella held a brief discussion with the head orderly, Barney, before proceeding down the hall. She kept her eyes forward and resisted the urge to glance at the other inmates, providing the prisoners a semblance of privacy they might not be otherwise afforded. All was quiet on the cell block. The tapping of her knee-length high-heeled boots announced her arrival long before the cell she sought was in view.

She wondered how Will’s first few days with a Support Alpha had been. Of all her patients, his story was the most horrifying and tragic. When she heard about his escape and hospitalization on the news, she requested to be assigned to his case. Bella firmly believed that Will’s prognosis was promising with support and therapy. During this first session, she intended to ascertain for herself Will and Dr. Lecter’s compatibility and to collaborate with the Support Alpha on Will’s care.

When the glass wall of the cell came into view, Bella got her first look at Dr. Hannibal Lecter. He regarded her from the opposite side of the glass, regal and menacing. The man’s austere presence somehow fit with the mental image she had crafted from her husband’s numerous rants.

Despite Jack’s almost single-minded determination to catch the elusive Chesapeake Ripper, the alpha’s eventual capture hardly lived up to the infamy of his crimes. It all came down to bad timing for both Hannibal and Jack. For Hannibal, a burned-out tail light was the impetus for his arrest. Despite many sleepless nights and practically running his team into the ground, Jack was forced to watch a local beat cop on street patrol receive credit for apprehending the Chesapeake Ripper.

As much as Bella sympathized with her husband, she was relieved by the Ripper’s capture for entirely different reasons. That the killer had been apprehended and there would be no more victims was enough for Jack. On the other hand, Bella was freed from his frustrated tirades over the unknown killer’s identity and whereabouts.

However, when the killer's true identity was revealed, Jack’s rants were replaced by quietly desperate talks late into the night. He was devastated to learn the Chesapeake Ripper was an acquaintance of his. Jack had even invited the man to consult on the case, though Hannibal Lecter had declined, citing a commitment to his patients. Her husband was a tough man, often disguising his emotions behind anger. Still, on those nights, he cried unashamedly over his inability to spot the killer standing right before him and the lost opportunity to save lives.

When she reached Dr. Lecter’s cell and stood before the glass, Bella didn’t greet the doctor immediately, only nodded respectfully before turning her attention to her patient. Will lay snuggled in an impressive-looking nest. He was writing in a notebook propped up on his knees, a small smile turning up the corners of his lips. The only sign of her surprise was the slight widening of her eyes. Will was showing improvement after only a few days under the Support Alpha’s care. Bella darted a glance at Dr. Lecter, who appeared to be studying her intently. Unruffled, she looked back at Will and filed the observation away to include in her report later.

She studied Will’s nest. Did the alpha build it? Most likely. She doubted it was Will, in any case. He had resisted nest-building of any kind while at the ORC. The closest he came to nesting was wrapping a blanket around himself while staring out the window.

Will was still focused on his writing, too absorbed in the activity to have noticed her arrival. However, the clinking sound of chains and the rattling of a wheeled cart from the direction of the guard’s station drew his attention. “Bella!” Will said, closing the notebook and standing from the nest. He left the book on the bed and approached the glass to stand close to Hannibal.

Bella smiled, relieved to see Will appeared so settled, though her session with him would hopefully reveal his true feelings on the matter. “Hello, Will,” she greeted warmly.

Will smiled as he raised a hand and rested it lightly on the alpha’s bicep. “Hannibal, this is Bella Crawford, my therapist and case manager,” Will said, nodding to the woman on the opposite side of the glass. “Bella, this is Dr. Hannibal Lecter,” Will added, completing the formal introduction.

To say that Bella was shocked by the familiarity and casual physical contact between the two would be an understatement. She expected quite some time would pass before Will felt comfortable around any alpha. Suppressing her reaction with a professional smile, Bella greeted the doctor. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Lecter,” she said, erring on the side of addressing him by title. Even if his professional licensure had been permanently revoked, Hannibal Lecter was a doctor by training and experience. Besides, only a fool would knowingly antagonize a cannibalistic serial killer.

“Mrs. Crawford, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” Hannibal said with a gracious nod and a charming smile. “And please, call me Hannibal. Will speaks very highly of you,” he added. His posture was controlled and proud. One hand gripped the other behind his back. “I have a couple of concerns to discuss with you following your session with Will.”

Though Dr. Lecter and the atmosphere of the BSHCI were a source of discomfort, Bella gave the alpha a flat look. She was rarely impressed by alphas, not in her line of work. “Very well, Dr. Lecter. I will speak with you after I meet with Will,” she said firmly. “For this first appointment, I’d like to meet with him alone to ascertain his thoughts and feelings without undue influence or pressure.” The counselor wanted to ensure Will was comfortable with the Support Alpha/omega arrangement. Abused omegas were often reluctant to express discomfort, especially in front of an alpha, a by-product of their trauma.

“Of course,” Hannibal agreed, smiling thinly. He didn’t appear concerned.

🔪🔪

Hannibal sighed when Barney and the guards arrived, though he complied with the usual routine to restrain him. Frederick’s over-the-top security measures were tedious, but Hanniabl could credit the man for his understandable fear. Once he was secured, Will waved goodbye and was permitted to join Mrs. Crawford in the hall. The pair walked towards the guard desk, heading to a private room for their session.

While Barney and the guards proceeded to search and clean his cell, Hannibal was distracted by Frederick’s arrival. The man wore his usual pompous smirk and twirled his cane like a majorette with a baton but with much less skill. “Hannibal, Hannibal, Hannibal,” Frederick said in an almost chiding tone as if his opinion held any weight with the alpha. “I imagine that woman from the ORC is making plans to take your little omega away. We both know you have no business being a Support Alpha.”

When his jibes didn’t have any noticeable effect, Frederick changed tacks. “Since you’re all dressed up, we’ll go to my office for a little chat,” Frederick said, eyeing the straight jacket and restraints meaningfully. The director always had prisoners brought to his office for therapy; he wouldn’t deign to counsel patients in their cells or in a holding room. Frederick snapped his fingers imperiously. “Barney, you and the others, leave that for now. Come, escort Hannibal to my office. You can complete the work here while I’m in session with Hannibal,” he said.

“Yes, Dr. Chilton,” Barney said respectfully. He and Hannibal exchanged meaningful looks as the orderly approached the restrained man before standing behind him to push the cart. The two guards appeared pleased to follow behind, rifle and mace kept close at hand in case Hannibal attempted to escape.

As the group rode in the elevator to the ground floor and Frederick’s office, Hannibal closed his eyes and retreated to his mind palace. He recalled the day he discovered an old edition of Euclid’s Elements, a mathematical treatise by the ancient Greek mathematician. He must have been around 6 years old at the time. That summer, he used the hand-drawn illustrations in the book to determine the height of the towers at Castle Lecter. He could still recall his sense of pride when his father reviewed his calculations and confirmed they were correct.

Hannibal hardly noticed when he and Frederick were left alone in the man’s office. Nor did he pay attention to the director's questions, insinuations, or insults. Hannibal’s inattention didn’t stop the man from droning on, apparently content to hear himself speak.

Hopefully, Will’s session with Bella Crawford would be more productive than his own with Frederick.

🔪🔪

“So, Will, how are things with Dr. Lecter?” Bella asked after the two settled onto a couch in a family visitation room. They each held cups of coffee retrieved from the nurse’s station. Though it was a national brand found in every grocery store, it was a far superior coffee than the swill the prisoners were served, which could best be described as “dirty dishwater.”

“They’re…they’re surprisingly good, actually,” Will said, sitting straighter with the cup cradled between his hands.

Bella smiled but reserved judgment. “That is refreshing to hear. What has brought you the most comfort since you arrived?” Bella asked. She set her cup on a low table nearby and picked up a folder and pen to jot down notes.

“It’s only been a couple of days, of course,” Will began, “but Hannibal’s scent is very calming. Once when I was stressed, he sang for me…well, hummed anyway.”

“Did that seem to alleviate your symptoms?” Bella asked intently, pen poised over the folder she held.

“Yes, but aren’t alpha scents supposed to be calming?” Will asked rhetorically. Before Bella could comment, he continued. “As for the humming, surprisingly, it did help the stress go away. Or not surprisingly? I always liked music and found it soothing,” Will said, his eyes taking on a faraway look.

“Did your father enjoy music, as well?” Bella asked, always keen to link the past and present in her patient’s minds.

“I assume so. He usually had jazz playing when working on motors at home, but he never mentioned it explicitly,” Will said with a shrug. “Hannibal likes classical music and opera, though.”

“I see. What else have you found comforting since meeting Hannibal?” Bella inquired, tilting her head to the side in interest.

Will suddenly perked up and leaned toward his case worker. “Did you see the nest he built for me?” When Bella nodded, he continued. “It’s so soft and comfortable. I’ve never seen a nest like mine, not even in a magazine or in those dynamics pamphlets as a teen. Hannibal spent a lot of time rolling sheets and tucking ends under the mattress. He knew just what I would like. He layered several blankets and-.”

Bella leaned back and allowed Will to wax poetically about the perfection of his nest while heaping praise on the alpha who built it. Will’s voice was filled with a pride most commonly seen in bonded omegas when talking about their alpha’s skills and prowess. That reaction was extremely telling to the social worker, not particularly that he was speaking like a bonded omega, but that he had so much trust in the alpha he was matched with. “How is your appetite?” she interrupted, casually switching topics as if the question had just popped into her mind.

At that, Will made a face. “I’ve been eating but haven’t felt particularly hungry,” he shrugged. “I am trying to pay attention to when my stomach growls, though,” Will asserted quickly. He thought for a moment. “The food isn’t that great, but Hannibal always makes my tray look nice.”

Interesting that Will so effortlessly brings the topic of conversation back to the alpha, Bella observed privately and made a discrete note about it. “I’m pleased to hear you’ve been eating regularly since arriving. I know you often skipped meals at the ORC.”

“I don’t think Hannibal would let me skip a meal. Not unless I was sick anyway. He checks how much I eat, and I’ve even seen him adding his fruits or vegetables to my tray,” Will said.

“That is very kind of him,” Bella said. “Are you getting enough to eat?”

“Yes. I haven’t been able to finish an entire tray of food yet. I’m still used to the sparse meals I received before when I was… gone,” Will said. He still had not revealed the name of his captor. It seemed Will just wanted to put everything behind him and pretend it didn’t happen. His knee started to bounce, and he drained the last of his coffee in several gulps.

“Speaking of when you were…gone. How have your dreams been? Still waking from nightmares every night?” Bella asked. She crossed one leg over the other and smoothed the creases in her skirt with a finger.

“I have slept very well in my nest and no nightmares that I remember. When I woke up yesterday morning, Hannibal was asleep on the floor beside my nest. He was holding my hand and said I had a nightmare, but I don’t remember it,” Will admitted.

“I’m glad he was there for you. Let me know if nightmares continue to be a problem,” Bella said, making a note about the hand-holding. She switched conversational directions again, “There isn’t much in the cell. Have you been bored? Is there anything you need?” she asked. Usually, she would be the one to accompany her patients when meeting their Support Alpha. It was her job to make sure her charges were comfortable and settled in, but when her boss, Dr. Bloom, indicated she would escort Will to the BSHCI, Bella did not protest.

“Hannibal told me I could read any of his books. He also gave me a notebook to write down my thoughts and feelings. I have been writing in it quite a lot, actually,” Will said.

“Is that what you were working on when I arrived?” she wondered.

Will nodded. “I’ve found it surprisingly freeing. I always thought exercises like journals were a waste of time, but it’s been helpful.”

Bella beamed. “Excellent. I think I mentioned a similar exercise during one of our first sessions.”

With one hand, Will rubbed the back of his neck, and his leg movements intensified. “You did, but I didn’t think I would find it so worthwhile.”

“That’s alright. We’re receptive to new ideas at different times. There is nothing wrong with that.” Bella looked down at her notes, considering her next question. “What are the most challenging aspects of working with a Support Alpha?”

Will leaned back and looked up at the ceiling, pondering his answer. “It’s easy to get along with Hannibal. Sometimes I can almost forget who he is and what he has done. I think the most difficult parts of this arrangement have to do with prison life. Little privacy, constant surveillance, and no freedom or opportunities to be alone. I was alone most of the time when I was… gone. It’s been tough to have no ‘me’ time at all.”

“Have you discussed this with Hannibal?” Bella asked.

“No, not really. It seems unkind to complain about something when he isn’t in a position to rectify it. Hannibal spends a portion of each day lost in his own mind. I can interrupt him if needed, but it’s the closest I have to alone time. He said he’ll teach me the technique someday,” Will said. A genuine smile spread across his face; even his eyes seemed to twinkle.

“Is there anything I or the ORC can provide for you?” Bella asked.

“Maybe some books?” Will suggested tentatively. He always seemed apprehensive when requesting anything for himself.

“Of course. Any particular titles or subjects?”

“I enjoy mysteries and detective stories,” Will said immediately. Then he looked at the ceiling, contemplating what other books he would like. “Maybe a book on dog care and training. I’d like to get a dog someday. We moved too often when I was a child to own a dog. We often stayed in hotels or other places that didn’t allow pets, but… I always wanted one,” Will said wistfully. When Bella didn’t reply, he sought to fill the silence. “Did you know that before… before I was taken, I met with a rescue group to be screened for a dog?”

“No,” Bella said, her voice breaking. Will looked at her sharply, but the only evidence of emotion was in her voice. She cleared her throat and continued in her usual tone. “No, I didn’t know that, but I think getting your own dog is a worthwhile goal. Keep it in mind as you recover. In the meantime, I’ll pick up some dog care books for you.”

“Thanks, Bella,” Will said.

“Now, I have to ask. Are you ready to discuss any aspects of your abduction, captivity, or escape?” Bella asked.

Will looked away. His arms were crossed defensively over his chest, and his lips pressed into a thin, disapproving line. If his body language didn’t communicate his opinion effectively, he backed it up with his words. “You know I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t even want to think about it,” he said flatly.

Bella sighed, though not in exasperation; if anything, it was from heartfelt concern. “Will, talking about your experiences will help you process them, heal, and truly put it all behind you. We’ve discussed this before, but I want to remind you that you don’t have to identify any person or place if you’re not ready. We can explore your feelings about what happened or what you were feeling at that time instead of discussing specific events or instances,” Bella said gently, though with conviction. When Will didn’t look at her, she put her hand on his elbow.

Will relaxed his arms and took off his glasses, setting them on the low table nearby. He leaned forward and rubbed his face with both hands. “Bella, I just… Now that I’m free, I don’t want to face it. I don’t see any benefit to rehashing the past.”

“It really will help you-” Bella started to say, but Will shook his head emphatically.

“Maybe so, but I’m not ready,” Will said. He clasped his hands together and brought them to his lips in thought. When Will spoke a moment later, his voice was so low Bella had to strain to hear him. “I don’t think I’ll ever be ready,” he whispered.

Bella scooted closer and gripped his wrist supportively. Will looked at her, evidently worried she would be angry, but her face was serene, and her slight smile was genuine. “I’ll be here, Will, if and when you change your mind. I’ll be here for you.”

“Thanks,” he said, his weak smile wasn’t enough to convince either of them, but they sat together in comfortable silence until the end of their session.

🔪🔪

When Will returned to his and Hannibal’s cell, he was surprised to find the alpha missing.

"Where is Dr. Lecter," Bella asked loudly from where she remained in the hallway.

Will turned to Bella to see she was looking past him to Barney, who just emerged from behind the privacy partition, mop in hand. "Dr. Chilton has taken Dr. Lecter to his office for therapy,” Barney told them. "I'm almost finished mopping the floor, then I'll get out of your way," the orderly added.

Will looked around, noting several changes to the shared living space. He first noticed that a second chair had been secured to the floor by the desk. The additional seating was appreciated, as it was occasionally inconvenient to be relegated to sitting on a bed or the floor. Next, he noted their used towels and dirty clothing had been removed and replaced with identical, clean versions.

It wasn’t until Will realized the nest Hannibal had built for him had been completely destroyed during the guard’s search for contraband that he began to whine in distress. The pillows, blankets, and sheets were nowhere to be seen. The only thing on either his or Hannibal’s beds were the thin prison mattresses.

Barney’s eyes darted to Will immediately, and he sought to calm the stressed omega. “I’m sure Hannibal will build the nest for you again, Will. I’ll bring fresh bedding once I finish up here. We usually launder linens weekly.

When Will whimpered, Bella moved closer to the cell door but didn’t enter Hannibal’s space without the alpha’s permission. Not only could alphas be territorial when caring for traumatized omegas, but Bella Crawford would never overlook exactly who Hannibal Lecter was and what he was capable of. Dr. Lecter was obviously a competent and caring Support Alpha, but he was also capable of complete detachment and cruelty. He was a man who lived by his own set of rules.

Barney finished cleaning and retrieved fresh bedding for Hannibal’s bed and several sets of omega bedding for Will’s before returning to the guard’s station to attend to other duties. There was still no sign of Hannibal.

“What is taking so long?” Bella wondered aloud.

“I have no idea,” Will said. “This is the first time Dr. Chilton has taken Hannibal anywhere since I arrived.”

Bella shifted impatiently from foot to foot in the hallway, occasionally glancing at her watch and looking toward the guard’s station for any sign of the missing alpha. By the time Matthew Brown arrived with dinner, Bella was beyond fed up. She looked at her charge, “Will, I’m going to see what’s keeping Dr. Lecter. Will you be okay on your own?”

“I’ll be fine,” Will said, poking a thin, cold pork chop no bigger than the palm of his hand.

“Don’t worry; I’ll keep Mr. Graham company,” Matthew volunteered.

Bella squinted until she could read the man’s ID tag. “Thank you… Matthew. I’ll be back shortly,” she said before striding away.

🔪🔪

Bella stalked down the corridor until she reached the guard’s station. “Let me out,” she demanded of the officer on duty, not taking her eyes off the closed door. When it opened, she strode out without a backward glance.

She had had little interaction with Dr. Chilton during her professional career, and this situation left her less than impressed. Hannibal Lecter had a responsibility as Will’s Support Alpha and Dr. Chilton was hampering that duty. The hospital director did not need to perform therapeutic theater while Will was in Dr. Lecter's care. It was well known in psychiatric circles that Hannibal Lecter refused to cooperate with any attempts at psychotherapy, so Dr. Chilton’s efforts were pointless.

A woman in scrubs pointed Bella to Dr. Chilton’s office. She stood before the door for a moment, gathering her composure. Her knock was answered by a curt “Enter” from the other side of the door.

Upon entering, Bella saw Dr. Chilton lounging indolently behind the desk with his feet on the surface. On the other hand, Hannibal Lecter stood ramrod straight, tightly secured to the hand truck. Between the two men, Hannibal appeared to hold more authority in the small space, not just because he was upright while Frederick sat. It wasn’t even because Hannibal was an alpha and Frederick was a beta. It was purely due to Hannibal’s unconscious aura. He had no one to please but himself, and he didn’t dither over others’ opinions of him. It was an enviable mindset, to be sure. Unfortunately, that same frame of mind allowed this man to kill, dismember, and consume other humans.

Before she could speak, Dr. Chilton stood and rounded the desk, taking his ubiquitous cane with him. Perhaps he imagined it lent him a form of control over others. “Ah, you must be Bella Crawford. I saw your name on the visitor’s log this morning. Please have a seat,” he said, gesturing to the chair in front of his desk.

“Mrs. Crawford, where is Will?” Hannibal asked. He strained to move his head a fraction of an inch more to see the door. Maybe he hoped Will had accompanied her and was merely standing in his blind spot.

Before Bella could answer, Dr. Chilton waggled his index finger as if scolding a naughty child. “Now Hannibal. You had plenty of time to talk in my office, but you remained silent. Now it’s too late.” He rounded his desk and made a show of taking a seat.

Bella could not believe her ears. This man’s position did not give him carte blanche permission to behave in such a manner. “Excuse me, Dr. Chilton. Dr. Lecter’s inquiry is appropriate and welcome. I’m glad to see someone taking their responsibilities seriously.” While the hospital director sputtered in indignation, Bella turned in her seat to address the alpha. “Will is fine. He is safe in your… cell… and is awaiting your return.”

“Dr. Chilton, do you have a library on the premises? Will has requested several books,” Bella said.

The director appeared to have regained some of his composure by exchanging petulance with cunning. He spread his fingers on the desk and adopted a regretful expression. “I see; however, the books in the library wouldn’t be suitable for that particular ward. We try to limit staff interactions with prisoners on that block. Putting employees in jeopardy for the sake of exchanging books is a risk I am unwilling to accept. And I cannot permit an inmate to retain a title indefinitely. What if another patient wanted to read it? I’m sure you understand.”

“Don't the cells have boxes to pass items to inmates?" Bella asked. When she saw Dr. Chilton's stern, uncompromising expression, she realized he was unwilling to do anything for Hannibal's and, by extension, Will's benefit. "Oh, I believe I understand perfectly what you are implying, Dr. Chilton,” Bella said. Her smile was as cold as frost on a windowpane. “No matter, the ORC has several generous donors. We will use those funds to furnish Will’s requests.” She leaned down and gripped the handle of her briefcase, preparing to stand.

“If you’d be so kind as to stay, Mrs. Crawford. I’d like to discuss a few concerns about Will. Frederick may be able to provide valuable insights into these matters,” Hannibal said.

Bella noticed Dr. Chilton perked up at Hannibal’s presumed nod to his intellectual acumen. She settled back into the chair, “Of course. Go on, Dr. Lecter.”

“Thank you. What are your expectations for Will’s diet?” Hannibal began.

Bella pursed her lips. “Well, as explained in his chart, Will suffers from chronic malnutrition. His symptoms of Refeeding Syndrome were mitigated at the hospital and continually managed once he was admitted to the ORC. His focus now is adequate caloric intake, establishing healthy habits around food, and recognizing his body’s hunger cues.”

“Thank you. What is your ideal nutrition plan for Will?” Hannibal immediately asked as a follow-up.

Bella nodded approvingly at the thoughtful question. “It’s not so much ideal as it is critical, but he should be eating approximately eight times a day. Each meal should be small, around 200-250 calories. It’s true that calories are calories for most people, but for Will, it is essential that he consumes the right calories and nutrition every day.

“At this stage, fried, processed, or overly-sweet foods would be damaging. Will needs fresh fruits and vegetables; dairy products such as cheese and yogurt. Whole grains are important, too. Think granola, multi-grain bread, quinoa. Proteins, preferably lean and, again, nothing processed. Healthy fats like olives, avocados, and nuts. Variety is key for all of these. He also needs access to food at all times.

“We want him to reacquaint himself with his body’s hunger signals. If he starts to feel hungry, I want him to be able to snack between meals. As he gains weight, we will cut the frequency of meals from eight until he eats three to four meals a day, but that will be a lengthy process,” Bella explained.

“Thank you. I appreciate the amount of detail. Would you be disappointed to learn that since Will’s arrival, he has been limited to three meals daily, each consisting of approximately 500-650 calories? All of the meals here contain fried and/or processed foods,” Hannibal said.

“What?” Bella gasped, looking at Dr. Chilton. “That is completely unacceptable!” She made a slashing gesture in the air to demonstrate her point. Frederick looked like someone had replaced the sugar in his coffee with salt. And nothing hurts as much as a fall when you expected to soar, Bella thought acidly, pinning the hospital direction in place with her pointed glare.

Hannibal’s expression shifted to one of profound sadness. “Indeed. I was also concerned and brought the matter to Frederick’s attention. However, Frederick asserted that Will would eat the same food as the inmates and that no special allowances would be made. He seemed quite irate that I questioned him.”

“Irate? HE became irate? He hasn’t seen the definition of the word!” Bella said, shooting up from the chair like a cloud of ash from an erupting volcano. Her heart began to pound as anger made her adrenaline spike. Bella’s hands balled into fists, and she put them on Dr. Chilton’s desk, leaning over it threateningly. Despite her menacing stance, when Bella spoke, her voice was as sweet as honey, “Tell me, Dr. Chilton, where is the food?”

“What food?” Frederick asked. His voice was high, like a boy’s on the first word, before breaking into his lower adult register like a teenager.

Bella looked at the ceiling and held her hands up dramatically as if begging for divine intervention. “What food, he asks,” Bella asked the room rhetorically. Then, her face became stern, and she fixed Frederick with a stony expression. She spoke slowly, enunciating each word to hammer the meaning through the man’s obtuse head. “The food that has been delivered to your kitchen each morning for Will. The food that the ORC is paying for. I emailed you Will’s food requirements and informed you of the food deliveries before Will arrived. Did you even read it?”

“Oh, well-” Frederick’s eyes darted around as if the answer was floating in the air. “I might have… just skimmed the email, briefly. Though, I did notice the staff refrigerator had a lot of healthy food in it the past few days.” He waved his hand dismissively, “I’m sure it's all just a misunderstanding on the part of the kitchen staff. But do not fear. I will address this matter with the Kitchen and Barney immediately to ensure Will is given everything he needs.”

“Excellent,” Bella said with false cheer and a fake smile. “I’m glad we are all on the same page.”

“There is just one other matter,” Hannibal spoke up then.

Frederick sank lower in his chair. His face was pained and pinched as if he spent all his time sucking on lemons.

“Will and I were quite surprised when the orderly brought by suppressants for Will. It seems Frederick prescribed them because he was concerned about the possibility of a heat,” Hannibal said. His expression said he was reluctant to impart that information, but his eyes burned with eagerness for the other man’s pending rebuke.

Bella very pointedly sat down in the chair opposite Frederick. Primly crossing one leg over the other, she smoothed a couple wrinkles from her skirt. She clasped her hands together and set them in her lap. Only then did Bella see fit to look at the man before her. “I am at a loss for words, but I will do my best. Dr. Chilton, I am beyond disappointed by what I am learning today. These matters will be brought to Dr. Bloom’s attention regarding your treatment of an ORC patient. I will report you to the state medical board for unprofessional conduct and recommend reviewing your licensing status. I will discuss this with my husband, as well, to ascertain the legality of the BSHCI and your actions. I trust we will have no further issues from this point forward. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, perfectly, Mrs. Crawford,” Dr. Chilton said weakly. He looked like he was attending the funeral of his own happiness. After a moment, he picked up the phone and requested a team to escort Hannibal back to his cell. With that done, the three continued an uneasy silence until Barney and two guards arrived.

Bella stood and picked up her briefcase. She was prepared to leave to give Barney and the guards enough space to maneuver Dr. Lecter into the hall. Before exiting the office, Bella paused in the doorway and looked back at the man who stared at his desktop as if the pieces of his shattered dreams were spread across its surface. “Oh, and Dr. Chilton?” she called. Bella waited until he looked at her before continuing. “The ORC is providing enough food for Will and Dr. Lecter. Be a dear and ensure they both receive what we are paying for.” With that final parting blow, she left to wait in the hall for the serial killer and his entourage.

Barney started to turn Hannibal towards the door, but Frederick spoke up. “Dr. Lecter?” he said, sounding wounded.

Bella overheard the director’s questioning plea from the hall and wondered if Dr. Chilton was seeking reassurance from his patient, but Dr. Lecter seemed in no mood to give it. “What, Frederick? Are you looking for sympathy? You’ll find it in the dictionary between shit and syphilis,” Dr. Lecter snapped. Bella half wished the man was not restrained so they could high-five in the hall, but that would destroy her professional image, something she clung to fiercely. Besides, she couldn’t really picture Dr. Lecter giving anyone a high-five.

No one spoke until they were out of earshot of Dr. Chilton’s office. Bella kept pace with the hand truck, walking beside the alpha as if he wasn’t restrained and being wheeled down the hall. “That Dr. Chilton is….something else,” she said with a rueful shake of her head.

“Ah yes, Dr. Chilton. Gruesome, isn’t he? Fumbles at your head like a freshman pulling at a panty girdle,” Hannibal said with great amusement.

“‘Fumbling’ is the perfect word to describe how he reacted to being confronted during that meeting,” Bella said.

“It’s because you are a woman with power,” Hannibal replied.

“What do you mean?” Bella asked, a single eyebrow raised in curiosity.

“Nothing frightens a man of mediocre thinking more than a woman stronger or more formidable than he. Consider Frederick’s lamentable attitude and inane justifications as a compliment,” Hannibal advised.

The pair conversed about Will’s dietary needs until Hannibal unexpectedly changed the subject in the elevator. “Your perfume is exquisite, similar to the aroma on the air just after lightning strikes. However, I detect something potentially sinister lurking beneath that lovely fragrance.”

Bella frowned and scrunched her eyebrows in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I have an acute sense of smell and have worked hard to fine-tune it during my life, especially as a surgeon. Would you humor me by leaning closer to my face and speaking?” Hannibal asked.

“Alright,” Bella looked at Barney and the guards. The orderly shrugged, and the guard holding the tranquilizer rifle put the tip to the cannibal’s neck and nodded. Now that she had tacit permission, she was uncertain. “What should I say?” she asked.

“How about your name?” Hannibal suggested. “Keep it simple.”

Bella shrugged and leaned closer to Hannibal until only a few inches separated their faces. “Phyllis Crawford,” she said before adding, “Yes, I go by Bella. It’s a long story.” Then, she leaned back.

As soon as Mrs. Crawford started to speak, Hannibal took a deep breath. He closed his eyes and held it for several moments before exhaling slowly. Only then did Hannibal open his eyes. His expression was serious, and his tone was grave when he spoke. “It is of the utmost urgency that you see a doctor and request a chest x-ray. Insist on an MRI if the x-ray comes back clear. Please do not wait. It is urgent. I believe your life depends on it.”

To say that Bella was shocked would be to say the water was wet or the Pope was Catholic. She could only nod until words returned to her, “I’ll… I’ll call my doctor today.”

🔪🔪

Matthew Brown couldn’t believe his luck when the social worker from the ORC walked off and left him alone with the object of his affection. Thankfully, Dr. Chilton had been receptive to his off-handed comment that morning about Will not being the only person in that cell in need of therapy. Alone in the security room, Matthew hadn’t bothered to repress his smile of satisfaction as he watched Dr. Lecter be wheeled away. The serial killer would undoubtedly be subjected to one of Dr. Chilton’s famously prolonged “therapy” sessions. A man like Chilton was easy to manipulate.

Matthew observed Will's body language closely once they were alone. Will appeared preoccupied, but Matthew didn’t hold it against him. He understood that omegas felt their emotions more strongly than alphas or betas. If what Matthew had observed through the cameras was true, Will experienced emotions more intensely than most.

At first, it seemed Will wasn’t thinking of much beyond the lunch in front of him. However, when Matthew entered the cell, Will’s attention snapped to him. The omega smiled, or was that a snarl? Either way, it was a treasured reaction from the one he adored.

“Hello, Mr. Graham,” Matthew said, patting the back of the newly-installed chair. “Why don’t you have a seat and enjoy your dinner? I’ll keep you company.” Will sat in the chair that Matthew indicated, giving the orderly a sense of stewardship over the omega.

“Thanks, Matthew, but I think I’ll wait for Hannibal,” Will said, glancing at the hallway as if his Support Alpha would appear any moment.

Matthew gritted his teeth, the muscles of his jaw tightening noticeably. After the resounding rejection Dr. Lecter delivered to Matthew’s friendly advances, the last thing he wanted to hear was Will’s deference to the man. Matthew just didn’t understand what he said to anger Dr. Lecter. Surely it couldn’t have been his comments about Will’s desirability. Matthew’s experiences with other alphas included sitting around, ogling attractive omegas, or bragging about those they had knotted. Who would have guessed that Dr. Lecter wouldn’t enjoy typical alpha camaraderie?

Pulling himself out of his ruminations, Matthew sat in the chair opposite Will and nudged the tray of food closer to the omega. “You don’t want your dinner to get cold,” Matthew said. He purposefully ignored the second tray intended for the other alpha. The temperature of Dr. Lecter’s meal didn’t concern him in the least.

“I guess you’re right,” Will agreed after a moment, picking up the cooling pork chop with his fingers and taking a bite. He was careful to avoid eye contact.

Matthew preened internally when the alluring omega complied with his suggestion. Will was so delightfully submissive. Or, at least, he showed signs of submitting to Dr. Lecter. Matthew had observed their interactions closely over the security cameras. He planned to mimic Dr. Lecter’s successes in his own pursuit of Will. A growing desire to set Will free and keep him safe forever rose in Matthew’s chest. He wanted both of them to fly free, establish a nest, and live happily together. A bonded pair.

Will must have been studying Matthew in turn because he suddenly said, “You’re sitting in Hannibal’s seat.” He looked meaningfully at the chair that was always in the cell, then sipped the fruit juice that had been included with his meal.

Matthew also looked down at the chair, “This chair is for the alpha who is taking care of you.” Then, he looked up and caught Will’s eyes, “It appears Dr. Lecter has succeeded his place to me.”

Will narrowed his eyes and opened his mouth to reply, but Matthew remembered something he wanted to give Will and held up a finger to halt him.

“Oh, that reminds me. I have something special for you,” Matthew said. He reached into the pocket of his lab coat, brought out a bar of chocolate, and set it on the table. He smiled when he saw Will eye it longingly. How long had it been since the omega enjoyed a candy bar?

Will made no move to take it, so Matthew nudged it closer to him with a finger. “It will be our little secret, okay, Mr. Graham? I’d be happy to bring you more or anything else you would like. I’m always happy to do a favor for a friend. Just say the words.”

Will’s face was still angled down at the tray, but his eyes peeked up at Matthew through a curtain of curls. Matthew’s breath caught at the other man’s captivating gaze. “Thank you, Matthew. I’ll keep it in mind,” Will said, picking up the chocolate bar and slipping it into the pocket of his coveralls.

Matthew smiled like a child who'd just been told Santa was real and that everything on his wishlist was sure to come. Before he could reply, the resounding bang of the cell block door was heard, followed by the rumbling of the hand truck. Dr. Lecter was being returned to his cell, and Matthew’s alone time with Will was at an end. Quickly, he stood from the chair, ready to leave, before the other alpha drew too close and saw Matthew encroaching on his territory and on the omega in his charge.

“I’ll see you later, Mr. Graham,” Matthew said before quickly leaving and disappearing deeper into the cell block. He planned to sneak by Dr. Lecter’s cell and exit the ward while the alpha was distracted by the removal of his restraints.

Matthew ignored the crying, moaning, and gibberish from the other inmates on the ward as he walked by as if floating on a cloud. That was the longest conversation he had shared with Will Graham so far.

More importantly, Will had accepted the chocolate bar. There weren’t any hidden meanings or obligations in the giving or receiving of items between alphas and omegas. Still, Matthew found it significant because it was the first of many special things he planned to give Will. He would treasure the memory forever. To ensure he didn’t forget, Matthew intended to monitor the trash coming out of Dr. Lecter’s cell to retrieve the candy wrapper and keep it safe, just like he would protect Will.

Matthew felt a rare sense of pride and confidence as he recalled Will’s longing look as he stared at the candy. He started to plan what else he could give Will that might evoke a positive reaction from the man.

Will Graham was amazing, intelligent, strong, resilient, beautiful, wonderful… and there wasn’t anything Matthew wouldn’t do for him.

🔪🔪

Chapter Text

Will was warm and comfortable. He floated in a haze of blissful contentment… until he was unceremoniously yanked from slumber by the obnoxious morning buzzer.

Grumbling in annoyance, he pulled the blanket over his head, blocking out the unrelenting glare of the overhead lights. The night had passed exceptionally well, with no sign of the nightmares that usually plagued him. Beneath the blanket, Hannibal’s scent was subdued but comforting. Will rolled to his stomach and stretched, digging his fingers into the soft bedding that made up his nest. Somehow Hannibal managed to make Will’s replacement nest more comfortable and welcoming than the first one he built.

Will sighed and played with the thought of going back to sleep, but the sound of Hannibal’s measured breaths convinced him to poke his head out from beneath the blanket to observe the alpha instead. Hannibal occupied the open space between their beds. He stood on one leg with the other bent at the knee, his heel pulled up to his backside to stretch his quadriceps. Stretching before and after exercise was part of Hannibal’s daily routine, helping the man maintain his strong and supple physique. The alpha exerted tight control over his movements, giving the impression that each motion was carefully considered and executed.

As Will watched Hannibal’s limbs extend, he recalled being wrapped in the man’s strong arms the previous day. Details of the embrace emerged as Will continued to watch the alpha. The memory was impossible to ignore:

Hannibal must have scented something amiss as he had been returned to his cell after the ill-advised session with Dr. Chilton. There might have been hints of distress in the air that Hannibal had detected despite the bite mask covering the lower half of his face. As soon as he was in sight, Will had felt Hannibal’s sharp eyes cataloging him from head to toe, apparently inspecting him for any signs of trauma or injury. Finding nothing, the alpha had turned his attention to the cell. He must have realized the source of Will’s distress was the disassembled nest because he had released a short, soothing rumble.

The sound, which had resembled a low warning growl more than a reassuring purr, had the desired effect on its intended recipient, but it had the unfortunate consequence of making the guards jumpy. The one carrying the tranquilizer rifle had jammed it roughly into the side of Hannibal’s neck while he barked at the alpha to be silent. Hannibal had complied immediately, cutting off the sound, but he had glared menacingly at the guard, his garnet eyes smoldered with malevolence like the burning glow of a distant wildfire. The officer had stepped back involuntarily, but the rifle had stayed in place against the prisoner's neck.

A few words from Barney had calmed the situation, and the guard had stepped back, allowing the head orderly to unfasten the straps securing Hannibal to the hand truck. With Hannibal so close to being unbound, the slightest hint of an instinctual whine had left Will’s throat. Hannibal’s attention had snapped to him immediately. The alpha’s gaze had stayed on Will until he was ordered to face away and rest his forehead against the wall so Barney and the guards could back out of the cell.

Will had hardly waited for the door to be locked before he’d rushed to Hannibal, removing the bite mask and straight jacket with shaking fingers. His session with Bella had left him unsettled, so Will had sought reassurance from the one person he instinctively knew would give it.

As soon as the straight jacket dropped to the floor, Hannibal had turned around and pulled Will into his arms. Hannibal had started to purr. The throaty rumble had a rusty quality from apparent disuse, but its snarling nature hadn’t fazed Will in the least. If anything, the menacing aspect had Will wrapping his arms more firmly around his Support Alpha’s body. He had turned his head, pushing his nose against the scent gland at Hanniba’s throat, and closed his eyes. As Hannibal continued to purr, Will had relaxed completely. He’d floated in a haze of comfort and safety, his mind subconsciously repeating one phrase: my alpha…

Will was abruptly ripped from his memories by the rattling of the food cart. He quickly rose from his nest and disappeared behind the privacy screen to use the facilities and dress for the day.

He emerged in time to see Hannibal accepting the first tray from Barney. The trays designated for Hannibal and Will stood out among the others on the cart. They held omelets made with fresh vegetables and low-fat cheese instead of an unappealing lump of gray oatmeal. Included with the eggs was an entire mango, cut into chunks and topped with toasted shredded coconut with a squeeze of lime and a pinch of salt. Bottles of water, cups of fresh squeezed orange juice, and a cup of rich, earthy coffee were included, all superior to what was customarily served to the inmates of the BSHCI.

Wow,” Will observed as he sat at the table and stared at the food tray in surprise. “Where did they get this food? It’s different from what everyone else is being served,” Will said, watching Barney’s retreating back as he headed to the next cell with the remaining trays.

“The ORC has been sending over food for you in compliance with your prescribed meal plan. Unfortunately, Frederick had it rerouted to the staff refrigerator, most likely for his own consumption. Mrs. Crawford was most perturbed by the ‘misunderstanding,’ and Frederick felt the brunt of her displeasure,” Hannibal said, evidently pleased by the censure Dr. Chilton received. He sat across from Will and spread the paper napkin on his lap.

Will raised his eyebrows and picked up a piece of mango with his fingers, popping it into his mouth.

“Will,” Hannibal said evenly, drawing the omega’s attention. He picked up the plastic spork lying forgotten on Will’s tray and held it out to the omega. His face was neutral, and no direction was given by his scent or posture.

Will sheepishly accepted the utensil. “T-Thanks,” he said, an endearing flush on his cheeks. “It’s been a while,” was all he said. But he transferred the spork to his dominant hand and used it to eat without further comment. It was quiet while they ate; the meal was small because another would be delivered in a few hours. Still, it was enough to fill Will’s chronically shrunken stomach. It’s incredible what the human body can accomplish, even with limited caloric intake.

After polishing off the last of the coffee, Will picked up his and Hannibal’s empty trays and set them beneath the box by the glass wall. He returned to the table and sat across from Hannibal, waiting patiently for the alpha to speak. When he did not, and they continued to stare at each other, Hannibal at Will’s face and Will at Hannibal’s shirt collar, Will fidgeted uncomfortably. Eventually, he felt compelled to speak. “So…what are your plans for the day?” he asked, feeling foolish. How many options did he or the alpha have when confined in such a small space?

“I am pleased you feel comfortable enough to ask, Will,” Hannibal said, purposefully ignoring the obvious unease the omega displayed only moments before. Still, his praise seemed to have the intended effect. Will subconsciously straightened his shoulders and met Hannibal’s eyes, evidently pleased by the alpha’s approval.

Hannibal continued, “I propose we spend some time getting to know each other. We could go about this one of several different ways, but feel free to speak up if you have another idea.” Before making any suggestions, he waited until Will nodded, indicating his understanding. “We could engage in conversation and see where that organically takes us. We could take turns asking each other questions with agreed-upon limits. Or we could try a combination of both,” he said.

“Um, I think it might be easier to start with questions. I’m not very good with… with conversation,” Will said, his gaze dropping back to the collar of Hannibal’s coveralls.

“Very well. Unless you have objections, we should avoid certain aspects of our pasts for now. I have no wish to discuss parts of my childhood or the events that led to my incarceration, though I am open to speaking about some of that another time. What boundaries would you like to establish?” Hannibal asked, tilting his head in polite curiosity.

“I don’t want to talk about… him or what happened at his house,” Will said eventually.

“Very well. We can discuss more sensitive topics another time, should we choose to do so,” Hannibal said with an agreeable nod.

“Okay,” Will agreed, looking at his knees and quickly tapping his index finger against the tabletop. Nervous sweat broke out on his forehead and beneath his arms. He grimaced in discomfort, cursing his damaged psyche for exposing itself through physical symptoms.

Hannibal pursed his lips consideringly. Will felt the weight of his considering gaze. He wondered if Hannibal regretted suggesting this activity since Will was so obviously unsuited. However, the alpha surprised him when he said, “There are no right or wrong answers, Will, only answers. And even some of those are subject to change on a whim. I am not here to judge you, no matter the topic.”

Will nodded and wiped his brow with the sleeve of his coveralls but did not otherwise reply. He honestly wasn’t sure what to say. Of course, he understood on an intellectual level that Hannibal was a neutral third party, but it was Will’s nature to hide his tension and fear.

“Would you like to start?” Hannibal asked, interrupting Will’s spiraling thoughts.

“I… I’m not really sure what to ask,” Will said, furrowing his eyebrows and laughing nervously. He sat back in the uncomfortable aluminum chair and looked at the ceiling. Feeling the need to move, Will ran a hand through his hair, damp at the base of his skull from perspiration. “What’s your favorite color?” he asked, glancing at Hannibal with a shrug and a rueful smile.

“Ah, the classic opening question most people defer to in this type of situation,” Hannibal said, amusement tinting his voice. Will opened his mouth to defend his choice but closed it again when no rebuttal came to mind. Hannibal waited until it was apparent Will would not continue before he answered, “I’ve always been partial to crimson. Depending on the space, its deep, vivid color is suitable for either a dominant or accent color. One of the walls of my former office was painted crimson, in fact. In my personal life, I found various ways to incorporate a splash of crimson…color.

“Wow, you’re even knowledgeable about interior design,” Will said, completely missing the reference to blood. “And crimson… you couldn’t just say ‘red,’ could you?” Will continued. “I’m not criticizing at all, just commenting,” he hurried to add. “I’m actually surprised you didn’t answer ‘soylent green.’”

Hannibal pursed his lips thoughtfully. “I am not familiar with that shade,” he admitted.

Will laughed, then waved his hand in the air when Hannibal frowned. “Sorry, sorry… it was a joke!” His voice changed as though he was impersonating someone else, “It's people! Soylent Green is made out of people!”

When Hannibal still looked confused, Will explained further. “It’s from a dystopian film from the 1970s starring Charlton Heston. In it, the world’s water supply was drying up, and the poor were starving. A new ‘food’ called soylent green was created for them. Ultimately, it’s revealed that soylent green is made from humans. I just thought a cannibal joke would be funny considering….” When Hannibal didn’t reply besides raising an eyebrow, Will quickly declared it was the alpha’s turn to ask a question.

Instead of asking a question immediately, like Will expected, Hannibal rose and approached Will’s nest. The blankets and sheets were rumpled, and the pillows askew. The alpha calmly rubbed his hands against the scent glands on his neck and straightened the bedding, leaving a fresh scent marking in his wake. When the nest was orderly, Hannibal said, “Would you feel more comfortable in your nest, Wil?”

“Yes.” Will stood. The impulse to luxuriate in the straightened nest was irresistible. When Hannibal stepped away from the bed, Will went to it immediately and ran his hand over the soft blanket. Climbing over the side, he took a moment to test the comfort of the layered bedding, then sat crossed-legged with his back to the wall. The straightened nest was as warm and welcoming as when Hannibal built it the previous day. Will sensed the elaborate nest building was an extension of the alpha’s generous and hospitable nature (assuming his multiple instances of homicide could be overlooked). The nest was as perfect as Hannibal sought to present himself. Or nearly so. Will pulled the pillow into his lap and pressed his nose against the fabric. It mainly smelled like industrial soap and himself, with only a dusting of Hannibal’s scent. That wasn’t right! A subconscious whine left Will’s throat, communicating his distress with a single sound.

As Will explored the nest, Hannibal had anticipated Will’s need and had picked up his own pillow to rub against the scent glands at his neck. When it was satisfactorily saturated, the alpha called Will’s name. Will’s eyes snapped to him, and Hannibal offered his pillow. Warmth flooded Will’s cheeks when he accepted, handing over the disappointing cushion in exchange. Will hugged Hannibal’s pillow to his chest, releasing some of the Alpha’s scent from the fabric. It wasn’t until he buried his nose in the pillow that Will started to purr contentedly. The pillow smelled just right.

Hannibal returned to his side of the cell and sat on his bed. “Will, are you ready to continue?” he asked before Will lost himself in Hannibal’s scent.

Will nodded, his nose still buried against the fabric of the pillow.

“What’s your favorite outfit?” Hannibal asked immediately as if it was a question he had longed to ask.

“Outfit? You want to know about clothes?” Will asked incredulously

“Yes, Hannibal said, lacing his fingers together and placing them in his lap. “I have only seen you in the lovely attire provided to us by Frederick and the State of Maryland. Clothes make the man, as they say, and you describing what you are most comfortable in will help me gain a clearer image of you.”

“Okay, that makes sense, I suppose,” Will said, thinking momentarily. “Probably a comfortable pair of pants… a flannel shirt, maybe a jacket over that,” he shrugged. After so many years of wearing little or nothing at Mason’s, those clothes sounded perfect. Then a thought struck him, and he asked the alpha, “What do you like to wear?”

When Hannibal heard Will describe his preferred attire, his smile softened, expression almost wistful. “I hope to see you dressed as such someday,” he said. “To answer your question, I feel most like myself in a three-piece suit. I am quite fond of pocket squares and neckties,” Hannibal added.

“Somehow, that seems fitting,” Will said with a smile. He could almost picture Hannibal dressed as he described. The alpha radiated a sense of formality and decorum even in his prison-issued coveralls.

“Go ahead, Will. It’s your turn to ask a question,” the alpha said.

“But I just asked one,” Will protested, but Hannibal waved it away.

“That was simply a request for me to also answer my own question. I would prefer a unique question from you,” Hannibal said, leaning forward slightly.

Will realized Hannibal was gleaning just as much from the questions he asked as the answers he gave. “Okay. Guess I can’t take the easy way out,” Will conceded the point. He paused and pressed his nose against Hannibal’s pillow again. The scent made him feel safe even as his mind drifted, allowing abstract noises from his captivity to rise to the surface despite his efforts to drown them.

For a moment, Will’s ears were filled with shouts, cheers, and curses that combined to form an overwhelming roar. Exhausted panting and groans of pain managed to break through the din. Frustrated grumbles or chuckles of glee accompanied money changing hands. Images rose from his memory next, like water rising in a clogged sink, threatening to overflow. The blinding gleam of a knife. Gore on a pockmarked concrete floor. His own hands splattered with blood. Suddenly, he looked up. “Do you think people can change?” he asked.

Hannibal looked off to the side, apparently considering the question. His eyes narrowed when he looked at Will, focusing on the man across from him. “Even if you know the state of who you are today, you can’t predict who you’ll be tomorrow. You’re defined up to now, not beyond,” he said. “So yes, I believe people can and do change.”

“I hope you’re right,” Will said quietly. “It’s hard to shake off something that is already under your skin.”

“Part of the challenge is figuring out what can be changed and what needs to be accepted. Do you desire change, Will? Or do you just need to accept yourself?” the alpha asked in an equally low voice.

Will blew out a heavy breath and squeezed Hannibal’s pillow tightly. “I guess we’ll see,” he said.

The two sat in contemplative silence for several minutes before Hannibal asked,” Would you like to continue?” When Will nodded, Hannibal asked, “If you devoted the rest of your life to philanthropy, what cause would you choose?” Apparently, the alpha was steering them away from the maelstrom that threatened to pull Will beneath the turbulent eddies of his memory.

Will appreciated Hannibal’s efforts to steer their conversation back into calmer seas. Memories had the power to cut like glass: sharp, jagged, and red with blood. It took only a moment for Will to answer his Support Alpha’s question. “Animal rescue, specifically dogs,” Will said.

Hannibal’s answering smile was genuine. Will was awed by how the expression lit up his face. “I’ve heard it said that dogs don’t lie. A dog’s tail is a strikingly honest window to their soul,” Hannibal said.

“True. I’ve always wanted a dog,” Will admitted.

The alpha’s face was contemplative, as if he was adjusting something in his mind. “I believe a four-legged companion, a dog, would be good therapy for you. Dogs have a way of finding the people who need them and filling an emptiness they didn’t know was there.”

“Have you ever owned a dog?” Will asked, curious if a man as exacting as Dr. Hannibal Lecter could abide a creature as chaotic as a dog. Hannibal might prefer a cat, but the thought of Dr. Lecter in a three-piece suit scooping a litter box with solemn dignity was enough to make Will laugh.

“My family owned dogs when I was young. Great wolfhounds of some variety or other, but they were working dogs, not pets. My father kept them in a kennel away from the house. They were used for hunting, a gentlemanly sport for my father and other members of the nobility,” Hannibal explained.

“Nobility? Where did you grow up?” Will asked. He had been curious about Hannibal’s accent since meeting the man but didn’t dare pry. Little was known about Hannibal Lecter’s childhood, and Will wasn’t sure if the alpha would answer. However, he was pleasantly surprised when Hannibal responded with almost no hesitation.

“Lithuania,” he said. “My father was a Count.”

“Whoa. Are Lithuanian titles hereditary?” Will asked.

“They are, though hardly anyone there would recognize me as such,” Hannibal said dismissively.

Will wished to keep the conversation lighthearted, so he sought a question without a more profound meaning. “Do you have any tattoos?” he asked. “I guess you wouldn’t have any prison tattoos since they will never put you in the general population of any prison.”

“Tattoos? No,” Hannibal said with a shake of his head.

“I’m almost disappointed you don’t have ‘Live. Laugh. Love.’ tattooed in a fancy script somewhere on your body,” Will said, and Hannibal huffed amusedly.

Hannibal looked Will up and down, consideringly, “What about you, any tattoos?”

“No tattoos. Plenty of scars, though,” Will said, rubbing his stomach surreptitiously, though it was apparent Hannibal noticed as his eyes tracked the movement.

“Our scars have the power to remind us that the past was real,” Hannibal said sagely.

“Yeah, well, I’m not so sure that’s a good thing,” Will retorted with a mirthful snort. He had to laugh so he didn’t cry. It was a coping mechanism, one that his Support Alpha could apparently see right through.

Before Hannibal could reply, Barney came into view carrying two trays. “I’ve got Will’s next meal,” the orderly said, placing one tray inside the box and pushing it through to the men before repeating the process with the second tray. “I’ll be back soon to collect them,” Barney added before leaving.

Hannibal rose from the bed when Barney appeared and accepted the trays from the orderly. “This looks delightful. I must commend Mrs. Crawford next week. I believe she was responsible for selecting your meal plans in conjunction with a nutritionist from the ORC,” Hannibal said. He placed both trays on the table and arranged their contents just so.

“Looks rather… green. What is it?” Will asked after he climbed from the nest. He stood across from Hannibal, not sitting yet, and eyed the trays with distrust.

Hannibal sat and leaned over the tray, inhaling deeply. “Kale tabbouleh made with bulgur wheat, greens, feta cheese, and spices. I believe we are supposed to scoop the salad onto these romaine lettuce leaves,” he said. He looked up at Will and gestured to the empty chair across from him. “Please, join me, Will.”

Will sat less reluctantly than his childhood self might have expected when served a plate containing so much green. He accepted the spork when Hannibal held it out and copied the man using the utensil to scoop a portion of the tabbouleh onto the lettuce leaf, then used his hands to eat. The mini-meal was delicious, and Will suspected it would make an excellent side dish for someone who ate a more typical diet.

Barney returned to collect the trays shortly after they finished eating. Instead of returning to their question-and-answer session, they decided to engage in quiet, solitary activities.

Will took his journal and pen from the shelf and climbed back into his nest. His mind buzzed with various thoughts, from names for his hypothetical future pet to the memories that threatened to overwhelm him earlier. He spent a bit too long contemplating what little he knew about Hannibal’s childhood. He had to suppress a giggle at the thought of Hannibal wearing a tunic, leggings, and the pointed shoes that were the height of fashion among the medieval European nobility.

Hannibal, meanwhile, retrieved a piece of fine stationery and sat at the desk to write a letter to his attorney. Will took a break from journaling to watch Hannibal. Small, neat words started to fill the page, each letter falling from the tip of Hannibal’s pen like grains of sand in an hourglass. Even though his head was bent over the letter, Hannibal’s back was straight, and his feet were planted firmly on the floor. Will straightened his own posture slightly, subconsciously imitating Hannibal’s example. The alpha’s hair had fallen down over his forehead, and Will had the unexpected urge to run his fingers through it, push it back from his face, and tuck the longer strands behind the man’s ear. Hannibal didn’t react to Will’s focused observation of him, though his parchment and sandalwood scent thickened, revealing how pleased Hannibal was with Will’s appraisal.

Will envied the alpha’s unshakable confidence.

Barney brought more food for the pair. This time, it consisted of a whole banana for each man, cut into chunks and topped with peanut butter and granola. Also included was a spicy yogurt-hummus dip with strips of bell peppers. Will was pleasantly surprised by how much he could consume without feeling ill. It helped that the portions were so small it felt less overwhelming. And if he couldn’t finish it all, he didn’t feel like a failure.

🔪🔪

When the next mini-meal was due to be served, Frederick appeared instead of the expected food cart. Though his arrival was hardly one of stealth. His ubiquitous cane announced his approach with a measured cadence that was more theatrical than hair-raising.

“I half expected Mycroft Holmes,” Will murmured with amusement, referring to the tapping cane.

Hannibal smirked, pleased at Will’s biting humor. “Frederick is closer to a clown than a prodigy,” he said, ignoring the doctor who was within earshot.

Will huffed in amusement. “A nincompoop,” he said, considering another term to describe the hospital director.

“Ignoramus,” Hannibal suggested.

Will thought for a moment. “Nitwit,” he offered.

Hannibal immediately countered with, “Buffoon.”

“Moron” was Will’s next submission.

“Imbecile,” Hannibal said.

Frederick’s face slowly darkened with anger. Finally, he broke in, “Yes, well, we will see who has the last laugh.”

Hannibal continued to ignore the other doctor and addressed Will. “We should co-author a thesaurus of descriptors that could be applied to Frederick. Some of the orderlies may have submissions as well. Perhaps we should take a poll.”

Will laughed, an honest-to-god belly laugh. Hannibal’s insides warmed at the sound. He had done that. He had made Will laugh, and it was a glorious sound as worthy of praise as the most revered deity. When he stopped chuckling, Will said, “Sounds like a bestseller. Though, it wouldn't be a book suitable for children or those faint of heart.”

“Indeed,” Hannibal agreed.

Frederick was almost purple with rage, and a vein throbbed at his temple. An amusing sight indeed. Hannibal pretended he had just noticed the man’s presence. “Oh, Frederick. There you are. Will and I were just having the most intriguing conversation.”

“I am here,” Frederick began through gritted teeth, “to oversee Will’s removal from your cell.”

Hannibal immediately straightened and stepped between Frederick and Will, blocking the man’s view of the omega. He kept his face calm and hands relaxed at his sides, but his shoulders and legs tensed, ready to propel the alpha into action. “For what purpose?” he asked tightly. Just then, the sound of multiple footsteps and the rumbling of the hand truck could be heard echoing down the hall. Hannibal resisted the urge to bare his teeth and snarl.

Frederick eyed Hannibal with a smug grin. “And here I thought you’d want to look your best for Will,” he said before pulling a packaged safety razor from his pocket.

“You have never removed an omega from my cell for this purpose,” Hannibal said, balling his hands into fists behind his back. Barney and the others stood outside the door of his cell, waiting for a sign to proceed.

Frederick looked down at his fingernails, seemingly bored. “Everything that happens here is at my sole discretion,” he said, trying for a voice of authority but missing the mark by several degrees and landing somewhere closer to petulance.

“Unless the lovely Bella Crawford objects,” Hannibal said pointedly.

Teeth gritted, the hospital director stepped back. “Secure him!” he commanded.

Barney moved closer to the glass, handcuffs in his hand. “If you would turn around and place your hands through this opening, I would be much obliged,” he said, indicating the waist-high air hole in front of him.

Hannibal did not move. Instead, he stared at Frederick, eyes practically boring holes in the man’s head. If only that were possible. Hannibal briefly fantasized about plucking out Frederick’s eyes, then hollowing out his skull after drilling a series of holes that would resemble extra eye sockets. One could look into Frederick’s “eyes” and see out the back of his head. How pleasant it would be for his exterior to match his thoughtless interior.

Frederick must have sensed Hannibal’s murderous glare because he raised his eyes and met Hannibal’s briefly before averting his gaze.

Another set of footsteps in the hall belonged to Matthew, who smiled at Will when he came into view and pointedly ignored the warning growl from Hannibal. “Hi, Mr. Graham,” he said, his eyes shining with such devotion that it made Hannibal want to rip out his eyes as well. “I thought you might want to shave, too. We can go up a couple of floors to the community washroom the non-violent offenders use.” He pulled another packaged razor from the pocket of his lab coat and smiled. “Maybe we can even visit the kitchen for a snack.”

Hannibal detected anxiety in Will’s scent, and the urge to possess and protect was almost too strong to ignore. He wanted to mark every inch of Will with his scent. He wanted to challenge the other alpha and then claim Will as his prize. He wanted to tuck Will into his nest and guard him from the world. His challenging growl was interrupted by Frederick.

“Comply, Hannibal,” he demanded, “or I will withhold food from both of you.” He shrunk back visibly when Hannibal turned his menacing glare on him.

“Please, Dr. Lecter,” Barney pleaded quietly.

Hannibal eyed the group assembled in front of the glass with cool disdain. Without a word, he turned, intending to allow Barney to secure the handcuffs. He could not let Will go hungry.

However, when he turned, he was met with Will’s wide, anxious eyes. Even though Hannibal was a superior predator, he felt powerless at the moment. He was not yet ready to escape, and he would employ another method in any case. Will had not yet recovered physically or mentally enough to assist if necessary, nor was Hannibal confident the omega would remain by his side outside of the prison walls. He wouldn’t allow his true mate to leave his side, not when he anticipated a fulfilling future for them. For now, he had to wait and plan. But still….

There had to be something he could do to reassure Will and declare his intentions. Hopefully, it would ward off his rival in the process.

🔪🔪

Will watched Hannibal turn, preparing to slip his hands through the air hole. Will anticipated the clicking sound of the handcuffs being fastened. One of the guards asked him to stand next to the cell door so they could enter and secure Hannibal. He didn’t even have time to reach the door when he heard the alpha’s voice behind his back.

“Will …”

He stopped, then turned to see Hannibal walking confidently up to him and ignoring Barney’s call. Will was so surprised that he didn’t even notice when Hannibal gently took him by the chin and kissed him without warning.

Despite Will’s initial confusion, the soft touch of the other man’s lips and the tip of Hannibal’s nose that brushed his cheek felt so right. Hannibal wasn’t rough, despite the potent claiming scent that surrounded them. No, the alpha’s kiss was confident and gentle.

At first, Hannibal simply pressed their lips together. When the alpha opened his lips and ran his tongue along the seam of Will’s, Will shuddered imperceptibly and let out a quiet gasp of pleasure. Will was afraid to open his eyes, but he wondered if Hannibal had his eyes closed or was looking at him while they kissed. He knew his face must be bright red from the unexpectedness of the situation.

The fingers cradling Will’s chin were warm. However, with each passing moment, the pressure on his skin lessened. Eventually, Hannibal’s lips pulled back from his own. He heard someone breathing, tremulous and irregular, and he wondered if that was his own breath or Hannibal’s. Will could sense Hannibal’s face was still there before his own, so he opened his eyes. A faint blush covered the alpha’s cheeks, and his eyes appeared glassy like he was trying to save the memory of their kiss in his mind palace.

Will had lost track of time and their surroundings. He didn’t know if that kiss lasted only a few seconds or 5 minutes. The only thing Will knew for sure was that he had just kissed the most dangerous person he had ever met. He’d kissed Dr. Hannibal Lecter. The Chesapeake Ripper. Will shivered again, but the second shiver was from excitement and awe, not fear.

Hannibal released Will’s face, straightened, and looked into the omega’s surprised eyes. Finally, he took Will’s hand and brought it to his mouth, gently kissing each finger.

Will never took his eyes away from the older man. Even when Hannibal took several steps back and put his hands through the air hole as Barney instructed. The alpha glanced over his shoulder at the orderly before looking back at Will with what could only be described as a sultry stare.

Will stood for a few seconds without speaking. His heart was beating incredibly fast, like a hummingbird in a cage made of bone. Hannibal’s possessive scent still lingered in the air.

When Will finally turned to the cell door, the guards were waiting to come in and subdue Hannibal. Will had a passing urge to sink his teeth into the guard’s neck and rip out large swaths of flesh, preparing the way for his alpha to escape and take him far away from there, to some place they could be safe and alone together. He dismissed the thought as quickly as it came, more affected by his desire to have Hannibal as his alpha than the possibility of him committing an act of violence.

Will repressed the urge to whimper as Hannibal turned away from him, hands secured behind his back, and pressed his forehead to the opposite wall when instructed. The cell door was soon unlocked, and the guards entered, weapons pointed at Hannibal. Barney followed behind with the hand truck, bite mask, and straitjacket.

When Hannibal was wholly secured, Dr. Chilton called out to Will. “This way, Will,” he said in a cajoling voice like he was trying to lure a skittish cat from beneath a bed. In a dreamlike state, Will moved to stand beside Dr. Chilton and Matthew in the hall. His gaze was still on Hannibal.

Matthew took Will gently by the arm, exerting gentle pressure to lead him away. “Come on, Mr. Graham, I’ll take you upstairs so you can clean up and get something to eat.”

However, Will resisted, pulling his arm away from Matthew’s grip and stepping closer to the glass and Hannibal on the opposite side. “I don’t like how I look clean-shaven,” he said absently.

“Well, we have beard trimmers upstairs,” Matthew offered. “It will be nice to walk and stretch your legs.”

For a moment, Will was tempted. It would be nice to see something other than the inside of Hannibal’s cell. But then he looked back at his alpha and shook his head. “No, I’d rather stay here,” he said.

“Matthew, he doesn’t want to go. Go get a trimmer and the next meal for these two and bring them down,” Dr. Chilton demanded in an annoyed tone.

“But-” Matthew started but cut off when Dr. Chilton scowled at him. A bout of Olympic-level glaring commenced. It didn’t last long and ended with Dr. Chilton taking home the gold while Matthew turned to stomp off down the hall, the very definition of resentment and defeat.

From there, it was a long, drawn-out process before Will was permitted to return to the cell. It seemed ridiculous to him that they would go so far as to strap Hannibal to the hand cart just so he could leave the cell and stand in the hallway. Wouldn’t it have made more sense to just handcuff Hannibal and make him stand against the wall until Will was safely outside and the door locked? As soon as Hannibal was wrapped up as tight as a mummy, Barney started undoing the straps, ties, and buckles again. When he was finally freed from all restraints, the razor was passed through, and the alpha was permitted to shave.

Will watched, fascinated, as Hannibal wet the razor and his face, then lathered soap for a crude shaving aid. Will wondered why the BSHCI didn’t supply shaving cream before realizing it was another expense for the State of Maryland to bear. Hannibal returned to the glass to look in a small mirror Barney held up. Occasionally, the alpha returned to the sink to rinse the razor or clean his face. Each one of Hannibal’s movements was refined. Even by calmly shaving his face, Hannibal proved superior to other men. Or was Will biased? And if so, why? Whatever the reason, Will couldn’t deny there was something compelling about Dr. Hannibal Lecter.

Matthew returned at some point with trimmers and trays of food. Will absently accepted the trimmer and ran it over his stubble, allowing hair to fall to the floor without a thought, his eyes still fixed on Hannibal. He didn’t notice Matthew’s attempts to draw him into conversation. He felt like an airplane circling high above an airport, waiting for permission to land. His mind kept swirling: We kissed. He kissed me. What does it mean? Will he kiss me again?

Before he knew it, Hannibal had finished shaving, rinsing, and drying his face. He passed the razor through to Barney via the box in the glass wall. Only then did his gaze rest on Will. Will wasn’t sure what he expected from the alpha. There was no sign of regret or apprehension. His expression could best be described as confident. But in his eyes, Will could see elation, contentment, and desire. Something inside, something instinctual, returned those feelings, insisted they were right and longed for more.

Will waited while Hannibal was restrained again, ready to return to the cell. Suddenly, Matthew stepped in front of Will, breaking his fixation on his Support Alpha. Matthew touched Will’s jaw. “You missed a spot, Mr. Graham,” he said.

Surprised, Will looked down at the trimmer still in his hand. “Thanks, Matthew.’ He turned the trimmer on and ran it over the side of his face again. “How does it look now?” he asked.

Matthew ran his eyes carefully over Will’s face, examining every inch. “You got it all,” he said before adding so lowly only Will could hear. “You look very handsome, Mr. Graham.”

Will blushed bright red from the compliment, more so over the words than the man who bestowed it. “Thanks,” he said. “And thanks for the trimmer.” He handed the beard trimmer back to Matthew, who slipped it into the pocket of his lab coat. “And the food,” he added, gesturing to the trays Barney had placed on the table for them.

“Anytime,” Matthew said.

Will had been distracted again by Hannibal and unconsciously stepped to the side to have a better view. It seemed to take forever and an instant, but he soon stood before Hannibal, who wore the straitjacket and bite mask. Their eyes met, and the intensity was enough to burn him. Will dropped his eyes to Hannibal’s lips seeking a reprieve from that demanding gaze. However, when he realized where he was looking and recalled their kiss, he blushed and allowed his eyes to drop further to the alpha’s shirt collar.

Moving behind Hannibal, Will removed the bite mask and unfastened the buckles of the straitjacket. When his eyes found Hannibal’s again a few moments later, the alpha had softened his gaze. He appeared content. “Will,” was all the alpha said as if the sound of his name alone was pleasing. He reached out and caressed Will’s cheek in the same place Matthew had touched, replacing the orderly’s scent mark with his own.

Will's eyes were drawn to Hannibal’s, like lead to a magnet. “Hannibal, what… what is this?” he asked earnestly, gesturing between them.

“We’ll discover the answer to that together,” was the alpha’s soft reply.

🔪🔪

Chapter Text

Dr. Hannibal Lecter was not the kind of man who second-guessed himself. He accepted events as they occurred and reacted accordingly. Whenever possible, he orchestrated the affairs of his life so they proceeded smoothly and entirely within his control. Anyone viewing him from the outside would see a charming and engaging gentleman, though few would claim they truly felt close to him.

Between his arrest and trial, Hannibal had been visited by various so-called "experts" on the human psyche. During these sessions, he usually remained silent, acknowledging neither their presence nor their questions. If he chose to engage, he spoke only of art, historical figures, or musical compositions that have withstood the test of time. Despite his lack of cooperation, these "professionals" still wrote reports and testified under oath about his mental state.

When the term "Machiavellian Man" had been ascribed to him, his attorney had objected strenuously. Though, Hannibal privately acknowledged the appropriateness of the diagnosis. When Hannibal had a goal, he knew what skills to utilize to achieve it. He didn't shy away from lies or manipulation if they helped his cause. Very rarely did he pause to consider the feelings of other people involved, and when it came to the pigs he slaughtered, he gave no regard to their squealing.

One prim, overly-smug "specialist" sat on the witness stand, declaring him an unemotional psychopath. She claimed his lack of remorse when shown images of his victims was the proof. Firstly, those rude pigs were not victims. His sister… had been a victim. He could not place the disrespectful, boorish swine he killed into the same category as his beloved Mischa. Secondly, if the "specialist" wanted evidence of his emotions, her strategy for invoking them was doomed to failure. Photographs of the unworthy only brought forth a sense of pride. And wasn't it logical that an artist would be proud of their work? If the woman wanted to see a physical reaction, she should have played Giulio Cesare or asked him to describe his favorite venues in Florence.

Hannibal felt plenty of emotions; he just chose not to display them publicly. Only a few were ever permitted a glimpse behind his mask. Even feelings of anger, frustration, or annoyance were tightly controlled and more often felt than shown. It was the mark of his gentlemanly nature to know himself and control how he interacted with others and the world.

Still, Hannibal would concede that there were few people he considered friends, though he didn't view the lack as a flaw. Few adults boast a large group of friends, with so many demands on one's time. Those Hannibal surrounded himself with were not friends; instead, they were individuals who helped him reach his own version of fulfillment. Each person was a rung on the ladder leading him to power, praise, and respect.

Hannibal's alpha nature was just one aspect of his life and not the most interesting part, in any case. He didn't ascribe to the stereotypical view of alphas as lustful or quick to anger. Instead, he purposefully set out to control those more primal emotions in his daily life. Given his unconventional hobbies, he didn't allow anyone close, so bonding or marriage was out of the question. His lack of a partner rarely entered his mind.

Once convicted, he knew the only ones interested in him would be those suffering from hybristophilia. Occasionally, a letter from such a fan would be received, filled with lewd suggestions and obscene proposals. Those same individuals would not have been interested in him before his crimes came to light. If only he had been able to treat someone suffering from the condition while still a practicing psychiatrist. His mind briefly drifted to the unctuous Franklyn Froideveux, but he did not regret turning the man away.

Since entering adulthood, Dr. Hannibal Lecter lived with one goal in mind: to be an example for others to follow. He strove to embody his own ambitions for the benefit of others. Naturally, he was the subject of others' envy. Despite his arrest and conviction, he felt he had lived up to his objectives and had been content enough with his life in its current state, despite his imprisonment.

Until Will Graham.

The omega had managed to flip much of that on its head, at least as it related to himself. Hannibal was still capable of seamless lies and effortless manipulation. He just had no desire to lie to Will. The urge to manipulate was still there, but Hannibal wanted Will to be part of his game, an equal teammate instead of an opponent or pawn. Hannibal wished to test Will's manipulative skills and hone them further into a razor-sharp point that would seamlessly slide through another's defenses like a scalpel through flesh. Even though he lacked a clear understanding of what Will endured during his captivity, the omega had to be a skilled and resourceful manipulator to survive as long as he had. Hannibal longed to witness Will put those skills into action.

When it came to Will's feelings, there were many situations where Hannibal could see himself prioritizing the other man's desires more highly than his own. The thought of Will being distressed made Hannibal want to snarl in vexation. It was a disquieting realization, and he hadn't yet come to terms with it, especially considering the briefness of their acquaintance. Hannibal had not truly regarded anyone's feelings since Mischa.

One aspect of being so taken with Will, with discovering that the omega was his true mate, was the slipping of the tight control Hannibal kept over his negative feelings, such as anger, jealousy, and possessiveness. The latter two emotions were practically foreign to the man. There was little in life that Hannibal could not upstage with connections, status, or money. There wasn't anything to be jealous of in his world. He was at the top of the social ladder, a man of envy, an unbonded alpha of sophistication and wealth. Over the years, other alphas, betas, and omegas had tried to catch his eye. He had politely entertained some individuals if they caught his attention; none of them had tempted him to pursue a more lasting (or honest) arrangement.

Even though Hannibal had long ago dismissed any possibility of bonding, now he could not picture a future that did not include Will Graham.

A rustling sound drew Hannibal from the depths of his mind palace, and he allowed his consciousness to drift closer to the surface. Thankfully, there was no need for alarm. Will had simply shifted positions in his nest, moving from reclining with his journal propped against his knees to laying on his stomach, upper body supported by his elbows and socked feet swaying in the air as he wrote. It was oddly endearing to see the omega so at ease.

Hannibal settled again but didn't allow himself to sink as deeply into his thoughts. His self-reflection had allowed him to reaffirm his sense of self, and he was prepared to objectively examine his spontaneous and possessive display the previous day. Carefully, he teased the memory from where it had been stored among his most treasured recollections and placed it in an open space. He allowed the moment to play repeatedly as he studied it from multiple angles.

His most vibrant recollection was Will's soft, dazed expression when he opened his eyes after their brief meeting of lips. The omega's gaze had been so compelling, surprised but far from displeased. Hannibal had been tempted to kiss Will again. The younger man was obviously overwhelmed and uncertain, but something within the depths of that look responded in kind.

But it was too soon.

It had only been five short days since they met. Four days ago, Hannibal had resolved not to rush, to wait and focus on Will’s mental and physical recovery before allowing instincts to influence his actions. His loss of control was both concerning and intriguing.

And what was the impetus for that loss? Matthew Brown: an unprincipled alpha of inferior intellect. Hannibal had encountered such a person numerous times in the past. Depending on the transgression, Hannibal had either ignored it or added the person to his Rolodex for later retribution. But never had he been provoked to act in the moment. Why that person? Why that moment? What was Matthew Brown compared to him? Nothing more than an earthworm who longed to be a lion.

He restarted the memory again, this time focusing on the other alpha. Matthew's scent had intensified when he came into view, releasing pheromones designed to entice an unbonded omega. The scent, combined with Matthew's offers of physical care: a chance for Will to shave in another location of Matthew's choosing, the offer of food that the other alpha would procure - was all intended to lure Will away.

Hannibal was wary of Frederick's insistence that Will be removed from the cell while Hannibal shaved. Then, there was Will's confusion, as Frederick's unexpected request had prevented Hannibal from preparing Will for the possibility in advance. Will's apparent discomfort with Hannibal being restrained and his reluctance to leave the safe cell for Matthew's company all combined to release Hannibal's control over his instincts, and he had reacted accordingly, staking his claim on Will for all those assembled to see.

Though Hannibal’s intentions were above approach, at least in his own mind, he disliked being forced into a situation that made reacting in such a way a likely occurrence. He vowed to keep a tighter rein over his instincts going forward.

But that still left a problem.

The spontaneous kiss he shared with Will needed to be addressed. Though secretive about some aspects of his life, Hannibal’s training as a psychiatrist and his experience treating patients had taught him that it was better to acknowledge potential issues head-on. Hannibal was a rather blunt individual, with no qualms over stating awkward facts or asking questions that might make someone else squirm. Indeed, he privately enjoyed the latter reaction, even in patients he found generally agreeable.

Dr. Lecter had counseled his patients vacillating between sticking their heads in the sand or employing blunt honesty to confront the truth directly. This was doubly true for romantic partners or family members. Those who were forthright were more likely to achieve a positive outcome or, conversely, were less likely to experience regret if their honesty wasn’t well-received.

Thus, Hannibal resolved to speak with Will about the impromptu kiss. A person who acted boldly need not shy away from acknowledging it. Will would not know Hannibal's motivations if the alpha did not tell him. Likewise, if Hannibal wanted to know Will's feelings, he had to ask. It was as simple as that.

Additionally, as the Support Alpha, it was his responsibility to clear the air. His only hesitation revolved around their status as true mates. While Hannibal viewed their connection as undeniable, Will may not be emotionally ready to confront what the knowledge would mean for them. He resolved to "read the room" when determining whether to confess his theory. Much was contingent on the conversation's context and Will's overall reaction. Overwhelming Will was the last thing Hannibal wanted to do.

Confident in his decision to discuss the kiss with Will, Hannibal allowed his mind to replay the scene again. This time, he focused objectively on himself. As Matthew Brown had attempted to lure Will away, the omega's scent had spiked with anxiety. Hannibal observed his nostrils flare as he took in the nervous pheromones. For an instant, a possessive rage flashed across his face before he ruthlessly suppressed the reaction and schooled his expression back to serenity. Thankfully, no one present noticed his lapse in control. The only one perceptive enough would have been Will; however, Will had been looking in another direction.

Hannibal noted the instant he decided on some form of action to demonstrate his claim on Will. His eyes had narrowed in annoyance but then suddenly cleared. He watched himself confidently approach Will, like a predator focused on prey. Except Will didn’t look or act like prey. The alpha’s cheeks had pinked slightly as he pressed his lips to Will’s, but who could blame him? He doubted anyone would approach the prospect of kissing the beautiful Will Graham without a healthy amount of appreciation and awe.

Throughout the kiss, his eyes remained open and focused on the other alpha so he did not miss Matthew's jaw tightening in anger or his hands clenched into fists at his side. The kiss elicited the desired response in both Will and his rival. Regardless of the outcome of his discussion with Will, he did not regret the action.

🔪🔪

For almost half an hour, Will had attempted to write in his journal, but his gaze kept straying to Hannibal instead. The alpha lay on his bed, fingers interlaced over his abdomen, gazing sightlessly at the ceiling. Even though his eyes were open, Will knew the alpha was not seeing the concrete roof above them. Instead, he was most likely utilizing his vast memory to tour his favorite places or interact with people from his past. Will wondered if he would earn a place in Hannibal's memory palace and whether it would be a place of honor or one of regret. Will wished he could claim the question was one of mild curiosity, but he could admit to himself a keen desire to know precisely where he stood with the other man.

Pushing his glasses further up his nose with a finger, Will shifted to lie on his stomach, feeling more like a teenager in that position than a fully grown man. Hopefully, the move would allow him to focus on something other than the handsome alpha in the opposite bed and his place in the man's life.

Once settled, Will flipped to the back of the journal, where he had been carefully documenting his cycle of hunger and satiation surrounding each meal. Since he still struggled with recognizing his body’s hunger pangs, he found writing down how he felt and what he ate extremely helpful.

Suddenly, the hairs on the back of Will’s neck began to rise, and he couldn’t tell if the tingling sensation was from anxiousness or excitement. His handwriting, never referred to as “neat” by any of his teachers, had shifted to a near-illegible scrawl, practically ruining his attempt to describe his satisfaction after eating a hearty mushroom soup.

He suddenly realized Hanibal was looking in his direction. Will’s change in position must have roused the alpha from his own mind. Draping Mason’s unaffected attitude over himself like a shroud, Will ducked his head closer to the page and kicked his feet nonchalantly in the air. Though he refused to delve deeply into Mason’s mind, after so many years spent as the man’s “prize,” Will was familiar with his mannerisms. He could wield his empathy to almost become Mason on command, and he hoped the feigned indifference would ease Hannibal’s instincts.

Will’s impersonation must have been convincing enough, as Hannibal’s intense gaze soon dimmed, and the alpha returned to the depths of his mind palace. Will released a near-silent breath of relief. He didn’t want to disturb the alpha, who was taking some time for himself after a day of attentive care.

Will slowly angled his head to the side, where he could surreptitiously study Hannibal's profile while appearing engrossed in his journal. His hand holding the pen continued to move. Though, instead of writing words, a crooked line streaked across the page, ending only when the pen had gone off the page to stop at the book's edge.

From what he had observed, Will determined that Hannibal Lecter was a man who occupied two extremes. He sincerely appreciated beauty, and his keen insight into human nature made him profoundly human. However, his shockingly vicious murders and the way he apparently manipulated colleagues and so-called friends alike was profoundly inhuman. Hannibal was the perfect union of man and beast: privileged, alluring, and cultured, but also sadistic, discerning, and savage. Despite himself, Will couldn't help admiring the man and his hidden darkness.

A memory buzzed insistently in the back of Will’s mind. Though he had repeatedly tried to brush it aside like a common housefly, it proved as unrelenting as waves in the sea. Will sighed. Ignoring his feelings had been necessary while in captivity, but Will knew denial was no longer an appropriate coping mechanism. Bella would counsel Will to face situations directly and handle them in a healthy way. Resigned, Will flipped to a blank page closer to the front of the journal and started to write:

So far, my musings have centered around random reflections on my past or whimsical commentary regarding prison life. But today, it feels more personal. Maybe I should have started this entry with "Dear Diary." Hannibal suggested I use this book to sort out my thoughts, so I will make an attempt. I'm just going to write it in hopes doing so will make it real and not just a product of wishful thinking:

Hannibal kissed me.

Somehow… the more I stare at those three words, the more giddy I feel. It actually happened.

But how do I feel about it? How do I feel about him?

Should I bring it up? Question his motives? No. Even though I am free from Mason's clutches, some hooks are still deeply buried. I can defend myself, have proven it on countless occasions…. Still, I have never gone toe-to-toe with an alpha. I'm not implying that I would need to defend myself against Hannibal. I only mean that my courage flees when confronted by an alpha. My heart pounds. My hands sweat. My breaths become quick and shallow. I can't lift my eyes from the ground. Yes, that lesson was hard learned.

I remember my youth and teenage years in Louisiana's boatyards. No one could best Will Graham. My father saw to that, especially after I presented. He ensured I knew how to defend myself and fight when necessary. Those skills served me well before and after I was taken. I wielded them for Mason's benefit… Though he imparted lessons of his own. Namely, never challenge or question an alpha.

Until I know Hannibal better, that seems like good advice. I doubt he will bring up the kiss. Alphas rarely explain anything. I think they stop trying when they gain the ability to knot.

Hannibal has been kind and supportive, of course. That is precisely what I expected when Bella suggested a Support Alpha. (Side note: What will Bella think?) Ever since meeting Hannibal, I sense an increasing depth, like sailing out to sea and encountering the steep descent of the continental slope. Rarely have I encountered someone so complex.

Mason and his "friends" radiated lust, amusement, or aggression. It was like seeing the same person with different faces on repeat. Likewise, the other omegas I encountered were resigned, terrified, intoxicated, or rage-filled. The most shallow layer of Hannibal's personality is more profound than anyone I have ever known.

Something vast lurks below his controlled and carefully crafted exterior. Strangely, I feel that reclusive part of him beckoning me closer. Instead of shutting me out or fortifying his defenses, an untamed part of him wants me near. Am I sensing his inner alpha? And if so, what part of me is aware of it? Is it my empathy? Or, perhaps my inner omega finally found someone… interesting.

Still, if things were to progress further, I can’t say I’d be wholly uninterested. I don’t know if that makes me impetuous or open-minded.

🔪🔪

Both men maintained a contemplative silence for the rest of the day, though it was far from uncomfortable. If anything, it was peaceful and reserved. Hannibal observed Will surreptitiously, waiting for the right time to bring up the kiss.

Eventually, they sat together on opposite sides of the table to consume the last meal before bed, a spicy potato and peanut curry. Will almost seemed to be in a hurry to eat, taking large bites and thankfully using the provided spork. Hannibal studied Will as he wiped his mouth and set the paper napkin on his tray. Will must have sensed his gaze because he glanced up briefly and smiled before returning to his meal.

Hannibal was charmed. The spicy curry warmed him on the inside, and the omega's smile warmed him on the outside, but there were some internal parts of him that were still cold that neither the curry nor the smile could touch. Those hollow, empty spaces had been there for as long as Hannibal could remember, long before Mischa's birth, only widening with her death. He wondered if Will could fill some of those empty places.

Clearing his throat, Hannibal again gained Will's attention before speaking. "I think we should discuss the kiss we shared, what it means to both of us and where we go from here." He tilted his head slightly and raised his eyebrows, creating a welcoming and inquisitive countenance.

Will froze with the loaded utensil halfway to his mouth. The rich curry sauce dripped from the spork onto his tray. "You… you want to talk about that?" he questioned, looking for the whole world like Hannibal had just informed him that he caught Frederick performing a tap dance wearing only a necktie.

Hannibal pursed his lips thoughtfully. “Yes, I believe we should discuss it,” he said.

Will shoved the spoonful of food into his mouth, apparently giving himself a moment to think. Hannibal was all too pleased to give the omega whatever time he needed. After swallowing his bite of potato and licking his lips, Will allowed his eyes to meet Hannibal’s. “Okay,” he agreed. The eye contact must have been too intense for the younger man because he pushed his glasses back up his nose and dropped his gaze to Hannibal’s chin.

"Perhaps you would feel more comfortable discussing this in your nest," Hannibal proposed. Will appeared surprised by the suggestion, but Hannibal reasoned he was still getting used to an alpha who considered his feelings instead of whatever horrors the monster that held him prisoner had subjected him to.

“Yes, I would,” Will admitted, looking down and pushing his glasses back up his nose again.

“Very well. Why don’t you get settled while I clear away our trays?” Hannibal suggested.

Will nodded but didn't move from this place at the table until Hannibal gathered their utensils. Then, he stood and went to the nest, climbing over the side and wrapping the topmost blanket around his shoulders.

Hannibal smiled when he noticed Will burying his nose in the soft fabric and inhaling deeply. He had freshly scent-marked the blankets that morning while he straightened the omega's bed. Will had not asked Hannibal to make his bed; the alpha was spontaneously compelled to do it. Hannibal had never straightened the nests of any other omegas he had supported, not even his previous patient, confined to a wheelchair. It was just one more way that Will was unique. Will brought out a new, hereto unknown side of the alpha, a side Hannibal was eager to explore. It was always fascinating to learn something new about oneself.

Once the trays were removed and any spills wiped away, Hannibal sat on his bed facing Will. Will shyly glanced at him, an almost inaudible whine of discontent leaving his throat. Hannibal immediately straightened, tilting his head slightly to the side, listening. Then, he released his own gravelly croon to reassure the omega. He had never purred so much in his entire life as he had in the almost week he had known Will. “Will, there is no requirement that we have this conversation if it will make you uncomfortable,” Hannibal said.

"Yeah. W-We, we should… I mean, you're right. We should t-talk about it. It's a good idea to know where we stand," Will mumbled. Hannibal found Will's stutters absolutely endearing, though such behavior would be irritating from anyone else. Hannibal opened his mouth to start the discussion when Will spoke again, unprompted. "Could…Could you come sit over here?" he asked carefully, indicating the edge of his nest at the foot of the bed.

"Of course, Will," Hannibal agreed immediately, immensely pleased by the request for closer proximity. He rose and approached the omega's nest cautiously, senses alert for any signs of discomfort or distress. Will held himself rigidly in place, but the omega noticeably relaxed as soon as Hannibal was settled.

The two stayed at opposite ends of the bed, yet they were connected by eye contact. Hannibal realized he wasn’t the only one having difficulty breaking their stare. Will proved to be the stronger of the two when he simultaneously dropped his eyes and raised the fingers of one hand to his own lips, touching them gently as if in remembrance. To Hannibal’s delight, Will broached the subject on his own. “Why did you kiss me?” he asked. Though Will wasn’t looking at Hannibal’s face, his eyes fixed somewhere near the alpha’s collar, his voice wasn’t weak or tentative. If anything, it was peremptory, demanding.

The expectant tone caused a delicious shiver to race down the alpha's back. Yes, Will was indeed his true mate. Who else could challenge him in such a way and elicit delighted anticipation instead of repressed violence?

Will appeared vexed by the alpha’s lack of immediate response. “Hannibal?” Will questioned. His demanding look met Hannibal’s own besotted one for an instant before dropping again.

Hannibal had to restrain himself from pinning Will to the bed to mark and claim him forever. That would come in due time. He reminded himself that Will's recovery should remain his focus. "You were distressed by the situation, and I employed a technique to distract and calm you," Hannibal offered vaguely. Would the omega blithely accept the explanation or demand more? What a fascinating game.

To Hannibal’s delight, Will scoffed. “Kissing me was a therapeutic approach?” he asked incredulously.

"Do you object to my treatment methods?" Hannibal countered an eyebrow raised questioningly. He needed to derail Will's line of questioning as he was not yet ready to reveal their true mate status.

“In general, no, but…” Will started, but Hannibal continued, pushing them further from the realms of his own secrets and into the recesses of Will’s past.

"I only want what is best for you, Will. My actions during your moment of distress were within my alpha nature and deployed to help. How did your inner omega respond to my actions?" Hannibal questioned. He leaned forward slightly with an open, interested expression, hoping to prompt a divulgence from Will.

“Eagerly,” Will admitted to Hannibal’s astonishment. Will’s expression immediately after the kiss had been far from displeased, but he wouldn’t have guessed “eagerness” lurked under that visage.

Hannibal sensed Will’s gaze upon him, seeking a reaction to the unexpected confession. It wasn’t his training as a psychiatrist that made him deflect; it was a long habit. “Indeed. I concur. And how does that make you feel?” Hannibal asked, his serious countenance transforming into a smirk when Will rolled his eyes.

Will chuckled and shook his head almost fondly. He countered with an evasive question of his own. “Abandoning subtlety?” he accused.

"Only when a direct question is most effective in gaining the information I seek," Hannibal replied, crossing one knee over the other. He resembled a giant stork, perched one-legged on the edge of a stream, patiently waiting for the knowledge he hunted to swim by so he could snatch it from the water and swallow it whole like the most filling meal.

“Happy at first, then uncertain. I don’t trust my omegan instincts. I’ve done the opposite of what they tell me for most of my life,” Will said, looking down at his hands, fidgeting nervously in his lap.

"You said your father was disappointed you presented as an omega, yet your captor kept you hostage because you were one, correct?" Hannibal asked leadingly, but Will did not respond besides balling his hands into fists. Hannibal backtracked and tried again. He sensed Will was on the verge of a breakthrough. "I want to help you. You would be more comfortable if you would relax with yourself. We don't invent our natures; they're issued to us, along with our lungs and pancreas and everything else. Why fight it?"

“I didn’t have a choice!” Will exclaimed, jumping from the nest and pacing before the bed.

Hannibal remained quiet. He had been waiting for this, and it was easier to bring forth than anticipated.

Though clearly agitated, Will went back to Hannibal’s first observation. “Yes, my dad wanted me to hide it,” he admitted.

When Hannibal responded, he spoke in a low voice, intending to provoke Will into losing emotional control. Omegas weren't known for maintaining such a tight grip over their feelings, and allowing Will to express himself as an omega would ultimately be healing for him. "You've mentioned that before. You weren't allowed to hone your natural instincts: to nest, form tight social and emotional connections with other omegas, and experience your heats safely. You were denied the foundations of what being an omega is. It is far more than a relationship with an alpha, bonding, and offspring. That is secondary. To be an omega is to be vulnerable," Hannibal said, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees.

It appeared Hannibal's technique was working as Will's face darkened with anger, his eyes closing to angry slits. He resembled an alpha on the verge of attack more than an omega. "Don't you ever refer to me as vulnerable! You don't know what I endured! Being 'vulnerable' would have gotten me killed!" Will ground out through gritted teeth. The dark chocolate of his scent intensified, though only the bitter elements broke through, completely overwhelming any hint of sweetness.

Hannibal intently studied Will in his glorious anger. After a moment, he spoke. "You seem to equate vulnerability with weakness, Will, and they are different. With vulnerability, we can let our guard down and be seen for who we truly are. That is a strength, not a weakness. Vulnerability allows us to be our authentic selves instead of trying to please others," Hannibal said. His gaze was intense as it fixated on Will's own startled expression. When he saw his meaning sinking in, Hannibal decreased the intensity of his stare and smiled.

As if he had been holding his breath, Will exhaled shakily. "You see quite a lot, Dr. Lecter," he said, studying his shoes.

“Perception is a tool that’s pointed on both ends,” Hannibal said. “It reveals as much about me as it does about you.”

“Do you ever feel vulnerable?” Will asked quietly.

"Rarely. Though, admittedly, few would appreciate or accept my authentic self, so I choose to save it for those rare individuals," Hannibal said, with meaningful eye contact that Will could interpret however he wished. Clearing his throat, Hannibal attempted to steer their conversation back to what Will endured while kidnapped. "Did the one who took you punish you for your lack of instincts?"

"No, he didn't care, wouldn't let me do any of those things. Well, except induced heats that were a form of punishment," Will said, starting to pace again. His shoes slapped on the concrete floor, reflecting his agitated state.

"Your file said the captor didn't beat you, yet you are found with extensive bruising," Hannibal said, indicating the file folder stored on Hannibal's shelves near his books.

Will glanced at the file and grimaced, looking away. “It wasn’t from him,” he said.

“And the scarring? Some of those were near-fatal injuries. He must have been quite a sadist to allow an omega to come to such harm. It’s against the most basic instinct of an alpha to stand by and allow an omega to be injured. Why did he do it?” Hannibal asked pointedly.

“I don’t know. He hardly touched me,” Will said with a disinterested shrug, but Hannibal wouldn’t allow him to deny his ordeal for long.

“Strange, wouldn’t you say: for an alpha to induce a heat in an omega and not take advantage? Based on your description, he was adept at ignoring his own alpha nature,” Hannibal said intently.

“How did we go from talking about you kissing me to talking about this?” Will cried, throwing his hands in the air.

“Focus, Will. You are on the verge of something important. Why did he stand by and allow you to be hurt? To endure a heat alone?” Hannibal asked intently.

Will gripped his hair with both hands as he paced. “He was conducting experiments,” he admitted.

“Was he trying to bring out your omega side, something you had never done before? Did he want you to cower and whine and beg in fear?”

“No, I tried that at first. I couldn’t help it, but it made no difference,” Will said.

"An alpha would be driven by instinct to protect you. Do you think he was experimenting on himself or you?" Hannibal asked.

Will stopped pacing. “Both, I guess,” Will said hesitatingly.

“Clever boy. Did he allow other alphas to beat you until your omega instincts came to the fore?”

“No, it was nothing like that. He liked that I rejected my instincts. It was the reason I survived so long when others did not.” Will turned away, staring at the shower area at the back of the cell.

Hannibal rose and approached Will. The younger man did not seem to notice the predator at his back, too caught up in memories. Hannibal leaned forward and inhaled Will's confused scent deeply before practically whispering in his ear, "You lived while others did not. You adapted to survive and pushed your instincts away. Tell me why only you survived."

Will shook his head as if fighting against answering, but Hannibal's voice was compelling, and his experience and training as a psychiatrist allowed him to bring forth hidden secrets. Before Will knew it, he spoke, "Other omegas tried to do the same as me. I was just better at it, stronger, more ruthless."

Hannibal's gaze focused. They were finally getting somewhere. "Yes, you are powerful. You proved it by surviving, by escaping. I am most interested in your captor's behavior. It's almost impossible for an alpha to allow an omega to be injured. Even I have never harmed an omega, and I have greater control over my instincts than most. What kind of alpha was he?" Hannibal asked pointedly.

This was the moment Will would uncover the truth on his own.

“Maybe…,” Will began consideringly, “maybe he wasn’t an alpha at all.” Then he turned unexpectedly and stood face to face with Hannibal. “A beta!?” Will gasped.

"Marvelous boy," Hannibal said, cupping Will's cheeks with both hands. "He was only a beta playing at being an alpha. He was probably ashamed of his presentation or shamed by his parents, who wanted an alpha son."

The omega didn't seem to notice or be bothered by the physical contact. "He lived and presented himself like a stereotypical alpha who inherited vast financial wealth," Will said, eyes glazed as he lost himself in recollections.

“And what kind of entertainment amuses a man like that? A beta, acting like an alpha, but without alpha instincts?” Hannibal asked.

"Omega fighting ring," Will gasped, as if holding that admission behind his teeth had been a herculean effort.

"I see," Hannibal said, and he did. He saw the true horror Will endured from those few words. He still held Will's face, so he used his thumbs to gently rub the omega's cheeks comfortingly. "It is a vile thing for any human to do. Omegas usually form tight bonds of companionship, but to twist those instincts and force omegas to fight...to kill each other, is almost unspeakable." Hannibal pulled his eyes away from Will's devastated expression. Though he was a man who would usually be delighted in witnessing another's pain, seeing the hollow look on his true mate's face was unsettling.

"So much blood. There was always so much blood," Will said then, bringing Hannibal's attention back to his face. Instead of the haunted, shattered expression Hannibal expected, Will seemed almost inquisitive, captivated by the observation. He tilted his head slightly to the side and looked down as if he could see blood pooling at their feet.

Will was Hannibal’s perfect mate.

Starting to purr, Hannibal pulled Will into his arms and allowed the omega to tuck his nose into his neck for comfort. His purring intensified when he felt Will tentatively return the embrace, and he pressed his face against the side of the omega’s head and took in his scent. Thankfully, the sweeter elements were returning after the purgation.

Quietly, too low for the listening devices or cameras to pick up, Hannibal whispered in Will's ear. "We will discuss this another time, but let me tell you now: You didn't deserve what you endured, my dear Will. But what does he deserve? The pretender who shattered your world, broke you down, and rebuilt you according to his whims? I would not have had that happen to you. Discourtesy is unspeakably ugly to me. Do you want to see him broken, bleeding on the floor beneath your feet? You are strong enough. I will help you."

Will pulled back enough to look into Hannibal's face. He was obviously conflicted, tempted but ashamed of the suggestion's appeal. "I... I don't -" he began, but Hannibal pulled him close again.

This time Hannibal spoke at a normal volume. "I want you to close your eyes, Will. Imagine what you would like to happen. Darkness is the best place for planning. What do you look at while you're making up your mind? Ours is not a reflective culture; we do not raise our eyes up to the hills. Most of the time, we decide the critical things while looking at the linoleum floor of an institutional corridor, or whispering hurriedly in a waiting room with a television blatting nonsense. When you decide, I will know."

His voice dropped again as he spoke into Will’s ear, “There is no limit to what we can accomplish together. Trust the darkness, Will. Trust me.”

🔪🔪

Chapter Text

Dr. Frederick Chilton looked his reflection square in the eyes and repeated his daily affirmations aloud, “I am a man of high intelligence. I am a published scholar of note. I am the envy of my peers.” He remained in front of the full-length mirror behind his office door until the meaning of his words sank in. Quickly straightening his tie and smoothing down his hair, he picked up his favorite coffee mug before settling into the chair at his desk. The mug’s handle still fit his hand comfortably after many years of use, and he was pleased to have found such a fine piece of crockery at the gift boutique near his house. The dark earthy brew the mug contained was too strong for his liking, so he added a fourth packet of sugar to the steaming liquid. After another sip, he set the mug down with a satisfied sigh. A drop of coffee leaked from the rim and ran down over the words, “World’s Best Boss.”

Frederick moved the mouse impatiently to wake his computer from its overnight rest mode. After logging in, he opened his emails to review what had happened since the previous morning. Frederick viewed emails as a tedious, though unavoidable, form of communication. He much preferred to speak on the phone, so he could share his vast knowledge with those on the other end of the line. If he got to hear his own perfect tenor during the conversation, all the better. He tried to look at emails only in the morning. Anything urgent received after that would have to be dealt with another way.

Most of the messages in his inbox were quickly deleted. An advertisement for male genital enhancement pills. A request for a patient consultation and possible hospital admittance from a colleague. A sale at the local health food store. A plea for support from a local homeless shelter. He paused before deleting that message, his lip curled in disgust. It was pitiable that many of the homeless suffered from untreated mental health conditions. However, a gifted physician of Frederick’s caliber wouldn’t besmirch his reputation by treating those that could not afford to reimburse his time. The mere suggestion that he would volunteer or donate his expertise was laughable in the extreme. With a feeling of vindication, he hit delete.

Next, were the emails he had to at least pay half a mind to before deleting. These included several incident reports from his staff. One involved the overnight breakdown of a long-term patient who had ripped his clothes to shreds and smeared feces on the walls. He opened the patient’s chart and prescribed a strong sedative to be administered for the next two weeks. He’d like to see the man keep from drooling, let alone cause trouble for his staff members for the foreseeable future.

There were a couple more mundane reports. "Touchy Ted Thompson" on the second floor had groped another nurse. Frederick sighed. He had hoped assigning a male alpha nurse to deal with the man would prevent such an occurrence. Apparently, "Touchy Ted" wasn't picky. Frederick added another antipsychotic drug to the man's daily cocktail. Hopefully, it would make a difference. He couldn't keep reassigning staff members. It just wasn't practical.

There was an email from the state ethics review board. They requested documentation and advised him that a hearing date would be set to review a complaint they received. It had to be that woman, Bella Crawford, who had carried out her threat to report him. He didn't believe any other people who had threatened to report him recently had the gumption to carry through. Frederick cleared his throat and straightened his shoulders before composing a very carefully worded email where he blamed a subordinate for the "misunderstanding" and promised to cooperate fully with their investigation, which he had no intention of doing. He ran a spelling and grammar check before hitting send. Frederick didn't want to make a careless mistake again, such as accidentally writing prostate instead of prostrate. He didn't think he would ever live it down.

After dealing with the more tedious messages, Frederick was free to peruse the one he was most interested in: the daily update from Barney Matthews. Barney was one of Frederick's most trusted orderlies. He was professional, polite, and followed Frederick's rules to the letter. He seemed to have a way with the psychos under his care, earning the respect and cooperation of even Multiple Miggs and Hannibal Lecter.

As requested, Barney monitored his patients during his shift and reported any issues or anomalies to Frederick. Barney's daily reports rarely included anything of note; however, ever since Will Graham had arrived and been assigned to Hannibal Lecter's care, Frederick had eagerly devoured each update from Barney with the zeal of a bored housewife with the latest tabloid.

Frederick had been intensely interested in Hannibal Lecter's interactions with any omega ward he had been assigned. The infamous serial killer's actions toward Will Graham astonishingly resembled classical alpha-courting behavior. Frederick almost couldn't believe it and was beside himself with glee at the prospect. What a paper he would publish! Let those fools at the American Psychiatric Association laugh at him again!

Frederick didn't have time to review hours of security camera footage, so he relied on Barney's reports to pinpoint any particular actions of interest. He would then scour the recordings for the referenced moments and watch, making careful notes for his future work.

The first surprise had been Hannibal building such an elaborate nest for Will. Then, more behavioral treasures were uncovered. Hannibal singing or humming. The alpha purring and exhibiting care-taking behaviors, such as straightening Will's bed and ensuring the omega was well-fed. The level of comfort the two had developed with physical proximity was startling, given the crimes that led Hannibal to be under Frederick's care. Then the unexpected kiss, of all things, which Frederick was fortunate enough to witness firsthand. It was absolutely fascinating.

Did this particularly traumatized omega bring Hannibal’s long-buried instincts to the fore? And what was the ultimate purpose? Was the alpha nursing the omega back to health only to kill and eat the younger man before guards could intervene? Frederick sincerely hoped so, especially if the cameras captured all the action!

He didn't believe for a moment that Hannibal Lecter could become attached to another person. After all, the esteemed Dr. Frederick Chilton had diagnosed the killer with the dark triad of personality traits: narcissism, psychopathy, and Machiavellianism, none of which allowed the patient to see beyond their selfish needs. He knew Hannibal had to be catering to this omega for egocentric reasons, and he couldn't wait to see (and publish) his findings.

Frederick skimmed through the updates regarding the other prisoners on Barney's ward before he got to Hannibal. Before allowing himself to read it, he opened the leather-bound notebook on the corner of his desk, where he recorded all his significant observations. Frederick picked up his favorite pen and placed it over the paper, poised to write. Only then did he allow his eyes to return to the screen to read.

Dr. Hannibal Lecter - Patient Dr. Lecter and omega ward, Will Graham, ate together throughout the day. Both consumed adequate amounts, and the omega's appetite appears to be improving. The pair spent time in individual pursuits until a discussion after dinner. Patient Dr. Lecter proposed discussing their spontaneous kiss from the previous day. A brief conversation ensued. During their talk, omega ward Will Graham disclosed information about his captivity that was previously unknown. Patient Dr. Lecter was suitably consoling. Recommend advising Patient Advocate Bella Crawford of the breakthrough on her next visit. Both parties went to bed shortly after lights out. The night nurse reports no disruptions during the night.

Even though Frederick was privately annoyed by Barney's insistence on referring to the disgraced former physician by the title Doctor, he couldn't fault the man's thorough documentation. Opening security footage from Hannibal Lecter's cell the previous evening, he fast-forwarded to the end of dinner before he pressed play and watched the pair's discussion play out. He couldn't help but admire how skillfully Hannibal turned the conversation and teased information out of the reluctant Will Graham. Frederick wasn't interested in the cathartic benefits of unburdening one's mind or how helpful such an act would be for Will Graham's recovery.

After watching the footage several times and making copious notes (and assumptions), Frederick sat back in his chair to contemplate his next steps. He had several options. He could leave things as they were while continuing to document and observe. He could alert the local chief of police of a possible breakthrough in the case of Will's abduction. He could contact Alanna Bloom to disclose what he had heard from her patient. Bella Crawford was also an option, but he just knew the woman would insist on interviewing Will Graham in a private room, away from any convenient recording devices. Though his employee, Matthew Brown, was handy rigging hidden cameras and speakers, there was another, more entertaining option: Jack Crawford.

It was well-known in higher law enforcement and psychiatric circles that the cantankerous Jack Crawford was bitter about the missed opportunity to apprehend the Chesapeake Ripper. Frederick had even heard that Jack requested Hannibal's assistance in profiling the Chesapeake Ripper but was turned down. The sheer hubris of Lecter: declining the opportunity to keep tabs on the FBI's investigation into his own crimes. Frederick couldn't decide whether it was admirable or foolish. Either way, it hadn't been the FBI that caught the cannibal. It had been some rookie cop out on beat patrol. The officer, fresh from the academy, still felt uneasy working alone at night and had therefore called for backup before engaging in the routine traffic stop. Who would have thought the Chesapeake Ripper would be finally caught over something as trivial as a burnt-out license plate light? Fortunately for Hannibal's would-be victim, the traffic stop dragged on long enough for the man to regain consciousness and make enough noise in the trunk to arouse suspicion.

If Frederick brought Jack Crawford in on this matter, it would benefit both of them. Jack might be able to tease more information from the reluctant Will Graham, and Frederick would be able to obtain more data for his next book on Hannibal. Despite being the head of the Behavioral Science Unit, Jack was anything but delicate when it came to demanding information and cooperation. Frederick had been a victim of the man's bullish tendencies over the years.

But, in this situation, Frederick held all the cards. He had authority, in a way, over Will Graham through Hannibal Lecter. He could permit or prevent Jack’s access to the men on a whim. Who knew what mind games Hannibal might be inclined to play with Jack, especially with Will as his pawn? Frederick shivered, as if in orgasm, at the very thought of the potential manipulation, and he rubbed the head of his walking cane in subconscious appeasement of his thoughts.

Straightening his shoulders and clearing his throat, Frederick opened the top drawer of his desk and sorted through a stack of business cards until he located the right one. With a gleam in his eye, he dialed Jack’s number. One way or another, his next book would be a bestseller.

🔪🔪

Jack Crawford leaned forward in the uncomfortable vinyl-covered chair of the cancer treatment center, bowed his head, and sent a silent prayer to the heavens. It had been several decades since he last prayed. His grandmother had carefully lowered herself onto boney knees beside her bed each night, asking God to bless her loved ones and protect them from harm. Jack had stopped believing in heavenly grace long ago. As an adult, he had learned that the God his grandmother had praised and read him stories about from her well-loved Bible during his childhood was neither just nor merciful. The proof was all around. Horrific suffering. Twisted, evil deeds. Humans inflicting the unimaginable on other humans. Jack came into contact with the worst of humanity on a daily basis. It would lead anyone to question whether a loving God was overseeing it all and whether a divine plan could include the worst horrors of mankind. Of all the people and beings mentioned in the Bible, Jack had only seen evidence of the devil.

Still, his prayer that day was heartfelt and desperate. Tears squeezed out of the corners of his eyes as he sent his plea into the ether. If God was there, surely he would hear. Jack would do anything, give anything if it meant relieving his beloved wife of her current condition. He would even gladly exchange places with her and bear her burden himself.

Cancer. Stage 3 lung cancer, to be exact. The diagnosis was as devastating as it was unexpected. They dismissed the persistent cough Bella couldn't shake the past few years. The blame had been placed on scarring from an almost-fatal bout of pneumonia his wife had suffered as a child. Neither had expected something so sinister to lurk beneath the occasional wheezing.

After the diagnosis, everything happened so fast.

Just that morning, wearing a blue hospital gown, her beautiful hair braided against her head and tucked within a sheer bouffant surgical cap, Bella's team of nurses had paused before wheeling her behind a set of wide double doors. His wife had seemed so small on the gurney, despite her stately demeanor. And she had never looked more beautiful to Jack's eyes. Her smile had been reassuring and confident as she patted his hand, then held it in a strong grip. He knew she was putting on a brave face for his benefit, and he loved her all the more for it.

“I’m just going to take a little nap, and I will be back before you know it,” she had said, squeezing his hand and accepting his kiss on her cheek.

He had barely managed to tell her he loved her and would be waiting before she was wheeled away. A surgical nurse promised to keep him updated throughout the surgery and directed him to the waiting area after giving directions to the restroom and cafeteria. As if he could enjoy anything as trivial as food while his beloved wife was going under the knife.

Feeling restless, Jack stood from the chair he had temporarily claimed and walked to the window, staring aimlessly out at the roof of another part of the hospital. The view of air conditioning units and small puddles of standing water on the flat surface was hardly encouraging. He lifted his eyes and was almost surprised to see cheery, blue skies and fluffy, white clouds. Surely, the weather should reflect his current mood: depressing and overcast.

Thankfully, Bella’s prognosis wasn’t all doom and gloom. He was grateful that the cancer wasn't as widespread as it could have been. After Bella underwent a series of tests, the oncologist had called the couple into his office. Jack had been impressed by the well-appointed space, with shelves holding medical books, degrees, awards, and accolades. Somehow the lush surroundings had not been enough to drown out the news the doctor had to convey. Bella’s hand in his had tightened to a painful grip at the word cancer. The diagnosis hit Jack like an anvil, and he was sure he would lose his beloved wife. The doctor, accustomed to delivering grim results, allowed them several minutes to absorb the news before continuing. Bella’s cancer was considered advanced but only locally. That meant the cancer had spread to the lymph nodes on the same side of the chest as the primary lung tumor but had not traveled to distant areas in the body. For stage 3 lung cancer, it was the best possible scenario.

Their first stage of treatment would involve surgery to remove as much of the tumor as possible. In Bella's case, it would mean removing the entire lower lobe of her lung on that side and several impacted lymph nodes. This would be followed by chemotherapy and radiation. The doctor was going to take advantage of Bella's sedation to install a subcutaneous port in order to deliver chemo during the second stage of treatment. She would also undergo targeted radiation therapy. It would be a long, arduous journey, but one Jack intended to be a part of every step of the way.

The pale green walls of the waiting area offered muted comfort as he returned to his self-assigned chair. The vaguely citrus smell of the cleaner used on the furniture to mask scents left behind by stressed alphas or omegas caused him to wrinkle his nose. However, it was still preferable to the smell of human decomposition to which he was too accustomed. Jack glanced around the room and saw an elderly woman dabbing the corners of her eyes with a tissue and a pregnant omega nervously biting his lip as he looked back and forth between the double doors and an elementary-aged child reading a book. Perhaps Jack should have chosen the couch on the far wall, but he didn't want to allow himself to become too relaxed given what his wife was going through.

In his jacket pocket, his phone vibrated, and after a moment's hesitation, he pulled it out and looked at the screen. Dr. Frederick Chilton: a man of unbearable egotism on a good day. He couldn't think of a more unpleasant way to pass the time while awaiting news of his wife. Somehow it seemed fitting to be just as miserable as Bella. With a shrug, Jack answered the call and put the phone to his ear. "Crawford," he announced himself gruffly in his usual way.

“Jack,” the smarmy psychiatrist greeted. “I have an update for you about Hannibal Lecter that is right up your alley.”

“Lecter?” Jack asked, his back straightening. “His case is closed. Has he confessed to some new crime?”

"Not exactly. It's about Will Graham. He's the -" Dr. Chilton began but was interrupted by Jack, who was never one to let people drone on to hear themselves speak.

"Yes, he's the omega who was recently rescued after being held captive by persons unknown," Jack said. Jack knew that Bella had been involved in the man's care, but his wife maintained a strict standard of confidentiality for her patients, even from him, and he was unaware of what had become of the man. "What does this have to do with Lecter? Make it quick," he added, with another look at the double doors. Surely, the surgical nurse would appear soon to provide an update.

Dr. Chilton pointedly cleared his throat in a way that conveyed his displeasure at being interrupted. “Hannibal Lecter was selected as Will Graham’s support alpha. He is currently in residence with Hannibal in my facility. Mr. Graham has revealed some details of his captivity that I believe will offer insight into the cases of the 20 or so beaten and murdered omegas you have been working on.”

Jack's mind raced, and his eyes quickly darted back and forth between the double doors and the elevators on the opposite side of the waiting area. He couldn't leave Bella at a time like this. She would rise from her sick bed to string him up by his ears. His days of losing himself in work and leaving his wife largely to her own devices were over. "I can't come today. Probably not even this week. A personal matter requires my attention at the moment. How did you come by this information?" Jack asked.

“The security cameras picked up their conversation. Hannibal can’t resist drilling into people’s minds, as you know,” Dr. Chilton said.

Jack shook his head. Dr. Chilton had no scruples. But was the psychiatrist's lack of morality any better than the system that allowed a convicted serial killer to mentor abuse victims? Despite his wife's work and advocacy, his own career with the FBI had instilled in him that dangerous individuals couldn't be anything other than dangerous.

Still, he wouldn't ignore a lead, not when the lives of other omegas could be at stake, even if it meant dealing with the likes of Hannibal Lecter. He briefly considered sending in one of his team members. Beverly Katz, perhaps. She had a disarming way with even the most recalcitrant of suspects and was a soft touch with omegas or distraught individuals. Despite how skilled Beverly was, Jack dismissed the idea.

Jack had spent years searching for the Chesapeake Ripper and had missed the opportunity to identify and capture Dr. Hannibal Lecter. His attempts to interview the cannibal while in custody had yielded nothing but frustration and inane commentary on prison meals and color schemes. Disgusted, he had left the man to the justice of the law and gone back to solving other crimes. Criminals rarely seemed to take a day off, so Jack rarely did either.

His obsession for the past eight years had been kidnapped omegas that were later found either beaten to death or killed by a sharp instrument. All signs pointed to omega trafficking of some kind, but he hadn’t been able to crack the case. Some assumed-kidnapped omegas had not yet been found, dead or alive, and Will’s escape gave him hope that others would be recovered alive as well. Jack wouldn’t leave such an important interview to a subordinate.

He knew Bella wouldn’t be pleased, but he would contact Dr. Bloom to arrange an interview with Will Graham. The omega might be the key to solving the crimes and rescuing other kidnapped omegas.

Just then, the surgical nurse came through the double doors and headed toward him. "I've got to go. I'll call when I have more time to interview Mr. Graham," he said before hanging up on Dr. Chilton, who was sputtering indignantly into the phone. As the nurse approached, he stood and buttoned his suit jacket nervously.

“Mr. Crawford, the surgery is going well. The tumor was more contained than the doctor expected, which is a good sign. He is excising the lymph nodes he mentioned now and removing a little extra tissue for biopsy. Your wife’s blood pressure and heart rate have remained stable. We will be closing her up soon and installing the chemo port. If everything continues at this rate, we’ll have her in recovery in the next half hour,” she said with a smile.

Jack’s shoulders slumped with relief, and he covered his eyes with a shaking hand momentarily before dropping it and asking, “Will I be able to see her then?”

“We’ll monitor her for a while in recovery. We want her to wake up so we can assess her pain level and manage that before we invite you back, but it shouldn’t be more than a couple of hours. I’ll be back once she’s in recovery,” the nurse said, touching his forearm reassuringly.

“Thank you,” he managed as she turned to walk away. Jack stood in place watching her retreating back until she disappeared behind the double doors. Relieved but still guarded, he returned to the window. This time he wasn’t surprised to see the bright blue skies. If anything, it seemed a sign of good things to come.

Several hours later, the nurse led him to his wife's room. At an encouraging nod, he took a deep breath and opened the door. Bella was lying in bed, a heart monitor beeped steadily at her side, and a cannula carrying oxygen rested under her nose, the tube looped over her ears. IVs in each arm delivered fluids and, presumably, pain medication into Bella's veins. He hesitated for a moment, then closed the door.

Beautiful russet-colored eyes opened at his approach, and Bella smiled. “Hey,” she said, her voice almost a whisper. She turned her hand so the palm was facing up.

He took her hand and leaned down to kiss his wife’s forehead. “Hey, yourself. How are you feeling?” he asked gently, cupping the side of her face as he sat gingerly on the side of her bed.

"Sore," she admitted in a raspy voice that Jack strained to hear. Her face turned disgruntled, and she moved her head irritably from side to side. "Can you take this thing off?" she whispered.

Jack chuckled, pulled the blue surgical cap from her head, and put it on the bedside table. "Better?" he asked.

“Hmm,” Bella hummed in affirmation. Her eyes closed for a minute before opening again sluggishly. “Tired,” she said.

"Sleep, my beautiful Bella," Jack said. He stood and pulled a visitor's chair closer to the bed. He took her hand again and kissed the back of it when he sat. "I'll be here when you wake up," he promised. She smiled again, and when she squeezed his hand in reply, her grip was firm. Jack watched as her eyes closed and her breathing became even. He wondered if she could tell the difference in her breathing now that a portion of her lung had been removed. Jack would have to ask her later. For now, he intended to stay by her side.

Bella was still sleeping when her oncologist stopped by. He checked her vitals before addressing Jack. "The surgeon tells me there were no complications when removing the lung tissue or lymph nodes. She will be by soon to check on Bella, but I wanted to drop in during my rounds to see how she is."

“She said she’s sore,” Jack said. “What are the next steps?” he asked.

“She’ll be under the surgical oncologist’s care for a week or so to confirm there are no complications, then she will be released to my care. We’ll start chemo. I’ll also refer her for targeted radiation to address a few areas that appear as shadows in our scans. She’s not out of the woods by any means, but we’re on the right track,” the doctor said.

Jack took more comfort from the man’s smile than he probably should have. “She’s a fighter,” he said, gesturing to his wife.

“I’ve no doubt,” the doctor said.

Later, the surgeon arrived with a nurse to check on Bella. They gently woke the sleeping woman to assess her pain level and check her bandages. Jack stood near the door and waited while they did their assessment. The doctor issued some orders regarding medication and meals before leaving and promised to be back the following day.

After the doctor left, the nurse helped Bella to the bathroom. Jack was just relieved to see her on her feet. When she returned, the nurse ensured Bella was comfortable and raised the head of the bed so Bella was more upright. Jack helped her drink some water. The trip to the bathroom and back exhausted the woman, and Bella dozed intermittently.

The doctor had ordered a liquid diet for the next 24 hours. A tray of jello, chicken broth, and juice was delivered for dinner. The nurse returned and offered to sit with Bella so Jack could run to the cafeteria. Seeing his wife was not in any immediate danger, Jack gratefully accepted the nurse's offer and returned with dinner and several sandwiches and snacks to hold him until the next day.

When Bella awoke, she grimaced at the bland, meager meal and hoarsely declared a preference for steak and potatoes. Jack chuckled, relieved Bella felt well enough to make her opinions known. Despite their disparate meals, the couple ate together and watched the news at a low volume.

Jack didn’t think about his conversation with Dr. Chilton until later after Bella had been settled in for the night. The thought of putting off the investigation bothered him on a deep level, but one look at his beloved wife, the bandages covering her chest peeking out at the collar of her hospital gown, made him put the guilt from his mind. He wouldn’t say his entire philosophy or drive had been changed by Bella’s diagnosis, but his priorities had certainly been realigned in the short term.

Besides, the more he thought about it, the more confident he grew that Bella would have his hide if he interrupted Will Graham's recovery. Even if he was tempted to rush off and interview Mr. Graham, it would have raised Bella's ire. He shuddered at the thought of Bella protecting her charge. Jack Crawford might be many things: pushy, single-minded, driven, and unsympathetic, but he was not a fool.

He would wait until Bella was aware enough to run the idea of interviewing Will Graham by her first. With a sigh, he rubbed a hand over his face and leaned back in the uncomfortable visitor’s chair. It was going to be a long night.

He recalled spotting a coffee machine near the nurse's station while returning from the cafeteria earlier. He would probably visit it several times throughout the night as he kept vigil at his wife's bedside.

🔪🔪

Jack didn't mention his conversation with Dr. Chilton until the following evening. Bella had passed the 24-hour liquid diet requirement and could eat solid food. The tray delivered by a hospitality staff member was almost as disappointing as the liquid meals had been. When the lid was removed, Bella's face conveyed her thoughts more clearly than the most pointed words. Jack always admired her ability to express herself with just a look.

Hoping to distract Bella from the notoriously lousy hospital fare, Jack detailed his conversation with the director of the BSHCI. Bella’s gaze immediately shifted to him from the pitiful excuse for rice pilaf in front of her. Jack congratulated himself; his ploy was working perfectly. Bella listened intently to every word about her charge, Will Graham, and hardly seemed to notice the food as she ate.

Bella's face became increasingly concerned as Jack spoke of his desire to interview Mr. Graham about his captivity now that he knew it might be linked to the other cases he was looking into. Bella's lung capacity had obviously been decreased by the surgery, even when accounting for the space the cancer cells previously occupied. Her voice was not as strong as it once was, and speaking was more of a struggle. The doctor had reassured her that she would adjust and would regain her usual speaking volume as she healed.

Despite the current deficit, Bella did not hold back on expressing her concerns for Will’s emotional health if Jack interrupted his healing too soon with demanding questions.

Bella was relieved that Will was comfortable enough to confide some of what he had endured to someone. Much to Jack's surprise, she even appeared approving of Hannibal Lecter in his capacity of Support Alpha. Jack could only shake his head at the very idea of offering a vulnerable person up to the mercies of a man like Hannibal Lecter. Jack did his best to persuade Bella that Hannibal was the last person who should be entrusted with the care of anyone, let alone this particular individual. He wasn't interested in scent compatibility or Support Alpha screenings. Nothing could convince the head of the FBI's Behavioral Science Unit that pairing would lead to anything positive.

However, no matter how much Jack railed against the idea of Hannibal caring for a crime victim, Bella would not be swayed from her way of thinking, even going so far as to insist that Will would be damaged beyond repair if he was removed from Hannibal’s attentive care.

Before he could go off on another point, Bella revealed something that stole the breath from his lungs. “This cancer would have killed me if not for Dr. Lecter,” Bella said. Her voice might have been soft, but the look in her eyes was confident and unyielding.

The chill that went down his spine at her words was like the vacuum of space. “How was Hannibal Lecter involved in this?” he demanded.

“He sniffed me,” Bella said before wincing slightly in pain.

Although Jack was sympathetic and reassured his wife as the pain passed, he could not hold back his incredulity at her statement. "Sniffed you? Is he part dog now?" He scoffed at the very idea. For all he knew, this was the set-up for the cannibal's next insanity defense for an appeal of his conviction.

Despite his disbelief, Bella smiled. "Not a dog," she whispered, "Gifted physician." She held up a finger to forestall any outbursts while she gathered her strength to continue. She had done more speaking that day, exhausting her meager reserves. "When I went to see Will, I spoke to Hannibal too. He detected the sickness on my breath… insisted I get it checked out."

The thought of the serial killer close enough to his wife to be able to smell her breath made a slimy feeling creep through Jack’s gut, like a belly of eels twisting wetly upon themselves. His face twisted like a foul odor was in the air, but Bella continued before he could voice his concern.

“We owe Hannibal Lecter for my chance of recovery,” she said in a stronger voice than she had managed for the past several hours.

This brought Jack up short. If the killer hadn't detected something amiss, they would have continued dismissing her symptoms as minor unexplained annoyances. That would have delayed her diagnosis until the symptoms could no longer be ignored. By that point, the cancer could have spread to her bones, brain, heart, or any other part of her body, leaving her with virtually no chance of effective treatment. He shivered involuntarily at the thought of Bella receiving a stage 4 cancer diagnosis. He didn't think he could face such an outcome. He probably would have ignored the problem, and Bella, by burying himself in work. His beautiful wife, his Bella, didn't deserve that. So maybe he did owe a debt of gratitude to Hannibal Lecter.

“What do you suggest?” he asked.

“I assume you won’t agree to wait until I am healed enough to accompany you?” she asked with a wry twist to her lips and raised eyebrows.

"Bella, my sweet, innocent omegas could be dying now," he said fervently. He gripped her hand with both of his and kissed her thumb.

“I thought as much. If you go, you need to approach this delicately, not barge in as you often do. And treat Dr. Lecter with respect. His approval will help persuade Will to cooperate. It may take more than one visit. Be patient. Will is not an enemy or suspect,” Bella said. She winced and delicately placed a hand on her chest.

Jack saw his wife's discomfort and pushed the call button for the nurse. Bella would probably need more pain medication to help her relax. He should have waited for this discussion, as Bella had overtaxed herself. Guilt radiated from his chest with each beat of his heart. He should be prioritizing her and her recovery. The castigation he had given himself earlier was ineffective, it seems.

The nurse arrived and administered another dose of pain medication. Bella was due for another one soon, anyway. Before long, her eyes grew heavy. Jack ran a hand over her brow to remove the moisture that had beaded there from the pain. "Rest, my love,” he said gently.

Bella smiled as she blinked at him sleepily. He always loved that look on her, though he preferred it when they were lying together in their bed, and she gave him that look as she awoke in the morning. Jack pressed another kiss to her hand and leaned back in the visitor's chair to wait. Bella's eyes closed after several minutes, and her breath evened in sleep.

Jack's mind wandered over their conversation and the warnings his wife had given him. He was so lost in thoughts that it took a moment for him to realize that Bella was squeezing and pulling weakly on his hand. Surprised she was awake, he rose to his feet and leaned over the bed so she didn't have to strain to be heard.

Bella looked him in the eye with a severe expression, and Jack knew what she had to convey was of great importance to her. "When you go-" Bella began, then paused to gather more strength before continuing. "Tell Dr. Lecter….thank you."

Jack was stunned at the very idea of thanking the cannibal. True, he was grateful to the man for recommending his wife see a physician, but Jack wasn't the kind of man to express gratitude in general, more often going with a nod of the head and silence if any sort of acknowledgment was required. The thought of specifically thanking Hannibal the Cannibal was appalling to Jack on a visceral level, but another glance at Bella's face told him she meant business.

He kissed her forehead and smiled a gentle smile that was only for her. "I'll tell him," he reassured.

Bella nodded and rolled slightly to get more comfortable, her hand still laced with his. When she closed her eyes, Jack sat again and leaned back to ponder his next steps.

🔪🔪

Chapter Text

Will tipped his head back to gaze at the smooth concrete ceiling. Hot water poured down over his shoulders, relaxing tense muscles. Hannibal had been right: a shower was just the thing to calm that restless feeling inside of him. For the past several weeks, Will felt increasingly antsy. Something was coiling beneath his skin, just waiting to break free. The more settled he felt, the more his restlessness increased until he found himself pacing inside the cell for a portion of each day, like a wildcat in a zoo.

Will sighed, releasing the last of the coiled tension. Billows of steam rose around his naked frame: water seeking freedom in its gaseous form, only to be sucked into the exhaust fan a moment later. Without the fan, the cell would become dank and cloying each time one of the men bathed, fogging the thick glass wall and leaving surfaces damp to the touch. The constant hum of the fan had become a familiar background noise, like the moans and giggles from some of the other inmates on the block.

Will rinsed his hair a final time under the spray and conceded the showers were another thing Hannibal was right about. The water temperature and pressure at the BSHCI were excellent. Turning off the water, Will pushed wet hair from his eyes. He was having a good day, maybe even a great one, even though it was a typical day at the hospital. A smile, which he had been struggling to suppress, danced at the corners of his mouth. Eventually, he stopped resisting and allowed the broad grin to curl his lips and crinkle the corners of his eyes.

Behind the opaque privacy screen, Will's naked form was hidden from view. The only exception was the ever-watchful security cameras. For a moment, his skin crawled, and it wasn't only from rapidly cooling air. Grabbing the nearby prison towel, Will held it over his groin and looked around. After a moment, the watchful feeling subsided, and Will ran the white terry cloth over his skin, carrying away water droplets with each swipe. His movements were mechanical and practiced, leaving his mind free to roam.

Will’s thoughts turned to an amusing conversation from that morning, and he chuckled internally as he dried his chest, a small smile on his lips. Somehow, his and Hannibal’s discussion had devolved into imagining what Dr. Chilton would say while stoned. Their impersonations of a loaded Chilton reaching “profound” realizations were met with honest laughter and had both men wiping gleeful tears from their eyes. Will couldn’t recall ever feeling so connected to someone as he did through those laughs and shared grins.

Utilizing one of the methods Hannibal had been teaching him, Will opened a mental filing cabinet and pulled up a memory. His technique could admittedly use some work, and his small filing cabinet was no match to the mind palace Hannibal utilized, but he managed to queue up the requisite moment in his mind again. Will froze the memory when Hannibal had tipped his chin up to laugh. The alpha's profile had been so striking that Will couldn't resist admiring his face at the moment, and he found himself doing so again. At the time, Will had looked away before Hannibal could catch him staring, but Will took time to observe the man now.

Every time Will studied Hannibal, he became more and more drawn to the man. The gray streaks in his hair gave him an air of wisdom. The stubble on his cheeks and chin tempted Will's fingers to reach out and touch, and the largely unlined forehead showed a life lived free of concern or worries. And really, what did an apex predator have to fear?

Will then studied Hannibal's smooth neck. The unmarked skin beckoned Will, causing his mouth to water and his teeth to ache. Victims aside, Will found himself suddenly grateful that Hannibal's killer tendencies made him reluctant to mate with anyone. Not that Hannibal had ever brought up the topic of mating. Still, the alpha made no effort to hide his own admiring glances, and whenever Will allowed their eyes to meet, Hannibal radiated a profound contentment that took Will's breath away.

Will allowed the memory to fade and tucked it back in the filing cabinet. As he became more aware of his surroundings, Will realized he was still standing completely naked in the back of the cell. Blushing, he picked up the boxers and undershirt he had left folded on the edge of the sink and began to dress. Will peeked around the edge of the privacy screen and saw Hannibal had not moved since entering his mind palace after breakfast. The alpha was lying on his bed, interlaced fingers resting on his abdomen and unseeing eyes focused on the ceiling. Will’s cheeks burned again at the sight.

To distract himself, Will moved toward his bed as silently as possible. He knew Hannibal would not be disturbed by his movements in the cell, but it still seemed like the polite thing to do. Donning a clean jumpsuit before pulling on socks, Will crawled into his nest. He sat with his back against the wall and finger-combed his drying hair to settle the curls into a semblance of order.

When he finally felt put together, Will picked up a book and feigned reading while he studied Hannibal as openly as he dared. Earlier, once their hilarity at Dr. Chilton's expense had subsided, conversation smoothly returned to more mundane or academic topics. It was so easy to talk to Hannibal. Even though the older man was far more educated and knowledgeable about various subjects, when he spoke to Will, he offered his wisdom humbly, as if he was presenting a gift to a friend rather than lording his intelligence over the younger man.

At times, Hannibal's intellectual acumen left Will adrift as the alpha easily made leaps of logic that were more difficult for Will to follow. Will's mind (and empathy) worked differently than the alpha's analytical brain. Other times, Hannibal seemed to speak out of both sides of his mouth at once, hiding a deeper meaning behind a more obvious truth. Though Hannibal's statements would be indisputable, Will often sensed a second, veiled intention obscured behind allusion and tone.

Although confused at times, Will was fascinated by Hannibal and more than a little smitten. He paused his mental ramblings to check in on his emotions. His experience at Mason's led him to repress his feelings as a coping method, but Hannibal had encouraged him to take time each day to reflect on his emotions. Striving to be as objective as possible, Will searched his vocabulary for the right words. Satisfied? Content? Happy? Giddy? No, giddiness was going too far, but 'happiness" had to be the emotion he was feeling, though it had been so long that it was an unfamiliar frame of mind.

If Will had to identify a single reason for his happiness, then that reason would have to be Hannibal. Even in his unmoving state, the alpha was refined, genteel, and handsome. An unconscious strength radiated from the man, reflecting his physical condition and the force of his mind. Yes, Hannibal was the reason Will felt so happy. The emotion was as fresh and welcome as the first blooms of spring after a long winter and just as unfamiliar.

Was he sure the emotion was his own?

Ever since his kidnapping, Will had practiced taking on the emotions of others until he could easily assume another's frame of mind, like slipping on a second skin, even if it didn't fit as well as his own. Empathy allowed him to mimic the attitude of his captor and was one of his most vital survival tools. Will's father had counseled him to resist emotions that were not his own, but the skill had atrophied like an arm too long in a cast. His treatment at Mason's estate had weakened some abilities while strengthening others.

Immediately after escaping, Will had struggled to stay in his own head. Taking on the emotions of others mainly happened unconsciously, so he retreated from the other omegas and therapists at the ORC. His emotional voyeurism would probably be considered a bad habit, perhaps even rude. What did that say about the substance of Will's character if it was easier to copy someone else's emotions rather than feeling his own?

Thankfully, Will's mental control (like his posture, eating habits, and eye contact) had improved since his arrival at the BSHCI. Hannibal's unwavering support and rigid control over his own feelings allowed Will to strengthen his defenses and rediscover his sense of self.

Sometimes, though, Will doubted himself, especially when confronted by something unexpected, like the "happiness" he felt. It seemed the only way to know for sure was to verify the source of the emotion.

Will shifted to lay on his side, still holding the book before him, and allowed his empathy to reach out to the other person in the cell, probing the man's mind gently. Hannibal had retreated behind the walls of his mind palace after breakfast. The alpha might be walking through his memories of the Louvre, a place he frequented while a student in Paris. Or Hannibal could be soaking up remembered praise from one of his now-infamous dinner parties. Will didn't know because the man's emotions were muted, almost to the point of being closed off. The only thing Will could sense was a vague attentiveness, an awareness focused around Will himself.

Is Hannibal always so aware of me? Will wondered, rolling onto his back and putting the book at his side. Unable to keep his eyes away from the alpha on the other bed, Will turned his head to take in Hanniba’s profile. Will decided Hannibal was probably always in tune with him. It was expected: Hannibal was his alpha, after all… his support alpha he corrected himself. Embarrassment intensified at the unconscious mental slip. His blush spread, the redness tinting the tips of his ears and moving down his neck. He just needed to concentrate on something else.

Resolved to push that train of thought aside for the moment, Will focused again on his feelings. If he wasn't assuming Hannibal's emotions, then the happiness he felt must be his own. Will suspected Hannibal felt the same, especially after the kiss he initiated. Hannibal was, as always, caring, solicitous, and attentive, but he had pulled back somewhat after their rushed intimacy and seemed to be focusing on Will's recovery instead. Will couldn't help feeling resentful. The kiss and expanded closeness it represented was something Will desperately wanted, not with just anyone but with Hannibal in particular. He felt drawn to the alpha like the tide follows the moon as it orbits the earth. Though they remained close and touched often, Will was too often forced to suppress a whine of discontent when Hannibal pulled away and placed space between them.

The thought was a momentary downer, and Will’s buoyant mood fled, leaving room for his usual doubts and second-guessing. It was no wonder Hannibal pulled back. Will didn’t have much to offer an alpha like Dr. Lecter, even if the man wasn’t sentenced to serve a life sentence in a hospital for the criminally insane. There had to be something wrong with Will that he would even be attracted to such a man, and he wasn’t referring to Hannibal’s chiseled and aristocratic features.

After so many years under Mason's dubious care, Will wasn't sure there was much about him that an alpha would find appealing. Omegas were "supposed" to be acquiescing, gentle, restrained, and focused on family. But Will had no experience with any of that. At his core, Will was volatile, treacherous, but yearning; a mess of contradictions: hard, yet brittle. He needed someone with patience and skill, like a glass blower who could handle his fiery core but still appreciate the twisted, complex creation left behind when his heat cooled.

Will's instinctual side had been degraded, ignored, and abused until it was hard to remember feeling more than suspicion, resentment, and vindictiveness. Despite that, he had a deep longing to trust, belong, and be cared for. His encounters with other omegas included fighting or killing them. His experience with alphas (assumed and actual) involved degradation, taunting, and baiting. The only gentleness he had known for years came from his own hand when he tended his wounds. He was a raw, exposed nerve begging to be soothed and healed.

And then he met Hannibal.

By either destiny or circumstance, Hannibal was turning out to be the most influential and significant person in Will's life. It was fitting that this alpha would painstakingly carve out the steps Will would use to rise out of his hole. It was almost pre-ordained. With his alpha's help, Will would ascend those steps and stand next to Hannibal, two men shaped by circumstance and fate, prepared to face what came next together. Would Will be able to return the favor and assist Hannibal from his own hole, literally or figuratively? Will wasn't clairvoyant, so he could not predict the future, but he felt confident if Hannibal was by his side. To Will, Hannibal was more than just an alpha. He was a protector, confidante, and provider. He was a mentor and a source of stability in Will's life. He was the one Will lov-

Will stopped himself short before he could complete that thought. A door somewhere on the cell block slammed before Will could list more of Hannibal's positive attributes.

The metallic thud reverberated down the hall and served as a wake-up call for the withdrawn alpha. Hannibal's blank stare sharpened as his keen mind focused on his surroundings. The ominous sounds of clinking chains, multiple footsteps, and the rumbling of the hand truck were heard next. Eyes fixed keenly on the hallway, Hannibal contracted his abdominal muscles, smoothly rising to a seated position. Will was privately impressed. He knew of younger people who could not manage the same.

Hannibal approached the glass, his feet spread shoulder length apart and hands held behind his back. Will climbed slowly from the nest. He, too, watched the glass for the first glimpse of their visitors. And there was no doubt the footsteps were headed their way. Of all the inmates on that cellblock, only Hannibal's transfer and handling instructions required using the hand truck. Hannibal had not mentioned expecting any visitors, and it wasn't yet time for their cell to be searched and cleaned. Will was nervous and curious. Who had come to call?

Barney came into view first, pushing the hand truck, followed by two guards. Next was Dr. Chilton, his ubiquitous cane tucked under his arm reminiscent of a circus ringmaster. All he was missing was a tophat.

Next to Dr. Chilton was a relatively short man with deeply receding hair in a horseshoe around the back of his head. He wore yellow-tinted eyeglasses that clashed terribly with his overly white teeth. His mustache was thick, though closely trimmed, and his tie was so wide that Will wondered if it was an effort to compensate for his narrow shoulders. The suit he wore was sharp and apparently expensive. He carried a briefcase and smiled sleekly at Hannibal.

“Ah, Dr. Lecter,” the man said. “Lovely to see you. I scheduled an appointment, though I suspect you were not informed of my impending visit?”

Will couldn’t see Hannibal’s face, but the man’s hands tightened into fists for a moment before he replied. “I’m pleased to see you, Mr. Kenner, though I’m afraid my secretary has been lax in his duties. Frederick, you really ought to keep me informed of the events on my social calendar,” Hannibal admonished the sputtering Director of the BSHCI.

Mr. Kenner turned to the fuming man standing beside him. “Dr. Chilton, I require a private word with Dr. Lecter, and I have several papers for him to sign.”

Dr. Chilton's face took on a woeful expression, and he shook his head sadly as though in regret. "I'm afraid that is quite impossible with all the security measures surrounding Hannibal. If you need privacy, I can remove Will from the cell during your meeting."

“Despite his conviction and commitment here, Dr. Lecter still enjoys attorney-client privilege. I do not trust that we will remain wholly unobserved here,” Mr. Kenner said, looking pointedly at the security cameras.

Waving his hand dismissively, Dr. Chilton said, “Nonsense, it takes a moment to turn those off.”

“Yes, and a moment to turn them back on again. I booked this appointment two weeks ago and included the parameters of my visit. You had ample time to accommodate our needs. I insist on a private meeting with my client,” Mr Kenner said firmly. His eyes had taken on a steely, uncompromising look, and Will knew immediately why Hannibal had hired this man to represent him. “I suspect another complaint to the ethics board would be unwelcome, Dr. Chilton. My sources tell me they are quite busy looking into other accusations they have received about you lately,” the lawyer added. His unamused face was so stoney even a statue would be impressed.

At this admonishment, Dr. Chilton froze, like a thousand-dollar call girl being offered a two-dollar tip. His lips spread, revealing gritted teeth, though the expression could hardly be mistaken for a smile. He rubbed the head of the cane tucked under his arm and opened his mouth to reply several times before stepping back and motioning Barney forward. “The secure visitor’s room,” he said under his breath before turning sharply and marching away without looking at anyone.

Will watched the three men's interactions with fascination and had to suppress a chuckle at Dr. Chilton's hasty exit. Seeing the man's pomposity deflated by sharply pointed words was pleasing.

Will studied the unknown man on the other side of the glass as he stepped up beside Hannibal. He stopped short of leaning against the alpha, though he privately craved the reassurance. Hannibal seemed to sense Will's unspoken need. He started to croon, then put an arm around Will and pulled the younger man into his side. Will responded by turning his face toward Hannibal's neck and breathing deeply. The alpha's scent never failed to calm his anxieties. Though some comfort was typical for a traumatized omega and their support alpha, Will didn't yet realize that his connection with Hannibal went deeper than most.

As they stood together, Will's empathy butted up against Hannibal's mind like a cat seeking companionship and solace. Hannibal's psyche welcomed Will, supporting the places where Will was weak and standing as an equal where Will was strong. All aspects of Will seemed to slide easily into place alongside Hannibal, the way one automatically finds oneself in a favorite recliner at the end of a long day.

Hannibal turned to Will, his arm still around the omega's shoulder. Will appreciated the closeness and practically melted into the older man's side. "I could not warn you about Mr. Kenner's visit due to Frederick's incompetence. I wrote to him after your arrival some weeks ago. There are several matters I need to discuss with him. I will return shortly," he said. Then, he addressed his attorney. "Mr. Kenner, this is Will Graham, the person I mentioned in my letter."

Mr. Kenner lowered his head respectfully as if he were meeting someone of high standing. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Graham. If you ever need me or my services, please do not hesitate to call," he said. He approached the box, placed a business card inside, and pushed it through to the men.

Will left the safety of Hannibal’s side to retrieve the card. The cardstock was cream-colored and thick, a sign of its quality. “Thank you, Mr. Kenner, though I doubt I’ll be able to afford your rate,” he said. Will was intensely curious about Hannibal’s business with the lawyer, but he wouldn’t ever be so forward as to ask.

“Nonsense. Dr. Lecter has instructed our firm to extend services to you under his retainer,” Mr. Kenner said, adjusting his glasses with one hand.

Will gaped as Barney stepped forward and asked Hannibal to put his hands through the waist-high air holes so they could fasten handcuffs around his wrists. Ignoring the orderly's request momentarily, Hannibal gently touched Will's shoulder. "Trust me in this, Will. There may be a time when you need representation or advice. If you never require Mr. Kenner's services, that is fine. However, do not hesitate on my account. It is the greatest honor of my life to provide for you in every way I can." The alpha subsequently turned to comply with Barney's command.

Hannibal's words left Will both fulfilled and speechless. This was yet another example of his alpha's devoted care. Hannibal fit so perfectly in the role of Will's alpha that Will didn't even notice his slip. The omega remained silent, almost in a daze, as the guards entered the cell, and Hannibal was summarily restrained and secured to the hand truck, straitjacket, and bite mask in place. The alpha kept his eyes on Will until he was wheeled from the cell, his hospital entourage and Mr. Kenner close behind.

Will was left alone in the concrete and glass enclosure for the first time. He didn't feel trapped as the door was open, but the alpha's absence was impossible to ignore. Will imagined the walls might cave in without Hannibal's dominant presence filling the empty space.

Feeling unsettled, Will climbed into his nest to think. He and Hannibal had been together for over a month. Time had passed quickly, and much had changed. Will had progressed from eating eight times daily to four times. He was using appropriate table manners even given the limited access to proper dining utensils. Hannibal's lecture about table settings and meal arrangements had been strangely riveting. Maybe it was the alpha's intense stare and smooth, accented baritone. Hannibal could probably make the most boring technical manual sound interesting.

Will slouched less and rarely had trouble looking Hannibal or Barney in the eye. He was not hesitant to start a conversation, occasionally complaining to Hannibal, the orderlies, or the guards he saw regularly. Best of all, Will couldn't remember the last time he awoke in the middle of the night, sweating and panting from a nightmare.

No matter how Will sliced it, his mental and physical health had improved under Hannibal's devoted care.

Will knew Bella would be pleased with his progress, and he was looking forward to her return. During her absence (which Barney had relayed was due to urgent medical leave), Dr. Alana Bloom, the Executive Director of the Omega Rehabilitation Center, had stepped in to attend to Bella’s patients. Though Alana’s professional demeanor lacked Bella’s warmth, the ORC Director visited Will without fail each week to provide counseling and support.

Will's mind returned to Hannibal again, like a homing pigeon seeking refuge in its home loft. Since meeting the alpha, Will realized he didn't feel alone anymore. He had a companion, an advocate, and a partner. He stopped himself before he allowed his mind to list "mate" as one of Hannbal's attributes. It wouldn't be fair to heap an unspoken hope onto the alpha's shoulders.

But, it was an impossible feeling to shake.

Feeling unsettled, Will rose and retrieved Hannibal's pillow before crawling back into the nest and burying his nose in the starchy fabric that smelled perfectly like his alpha… like Hannibal. Mine, his mind purred in contentment, and the notion was so fitting that Will's mind accepted the declaration unconditionally.

Unlike Hannibal, who experienced the truth of their true mate status crashing down upon him like an anvil to the head, Will, on the other hand, had the knowledge blanket him gently, almost tremulously, like a light dusting of snowflakes on a calm winter’s night.

With his nose buried in Hannibal's pillow, Will relaxed and settled to await his alpha's return. His mind drifted from shared conversations to impossible scenarios, such as Hannibal saving him from Mason's clutches or even the two of them living in domestic bliss somewhere else, perhaps a cottage in the middle of the woods, where they could be alone and undisturbed together.

“Mr. Graham?” a voice called from the cell doorway.

Will opened his eyes in time to see Matthew Brown entering the cell with a wide grin and a tray of food. Will’s mental ruminations faded as his mind focused on the other alpha. He must have been out of it not to hear the orderly’s approach. “Matthew,” he greeted neutrally.

Matthew approached Will's nest, squatted on the ground, and offered the tray. "I have your next meal," he said, setting the tray on the bed next to Will with a boyish smile.

Will surveyed the meal, his second of the day. It appeared to be a Creole-inspired chicken gumbo with okra and green peppers. His nose was not nearly as refined as Hannibal's, but growing up in Louisiana taught him the best flavors for gumbo came from cayenne, paprika, cumin, and thyme. A sniff confirmed the presence of the fragrant spices. A slice of cornbread and an ear of corn accompanied the thick stew. Will's mouth watered at the sight, and he silently thanked Hannibal and Bella for insisting on his more robust and appetizing meals.

"I'll eat at the table," Will told Matthew. Hannibal would not have approved of eating in bed when a perfectly serviceable table and chair were nearby. Will deferred to his alpha's preferences even though the man was absent.

Seemingly pleased, Matthew smiled and picked up the tray. As Will climbed from the bed, Matthew set the tray at Will’s usual place and sat in Hannibal’s chair. “I’ve been hoping to share a meal with you,” the orderly said, though he had no food of his own to eat.

Will sat and pulled the tray closer, eyeing Matthew across the table from him. Though Matthew lacked Hannibal's commanding presence, ignoring the other alpha's scrappy strength was impossible, like a junkyard dog waiting to be unchained.

Unaware of Will’s silent assessment, Matthew continued, “After you eat, I can take you to the upstairs conference room with lots of windows or even into the garden. It might be nice to have a change in scenery. It’s been a while since you saw the sky, right?”

It was a tempting offer. Sunlight did not reach the subterranean basement where Hannibal's cell was housed. Vitamin pills were a poor substitute for a body's natural production of vitamin D. While Mason's captive, Will had endured months or years at a time without seeing the sun. He was either kept in a windowless room or when he was forced to sleep chained in the filthy pig sty, he was led to and from the stall under the cover of darkness.

As enticing as the suggestions were: strolling in a garden under the sun or sitting in an airy room in comfortable chairs around a long rectangular table…. those were things Will wanted to experience with Hannibal. Will’s mind conjured the scenes effortlessly, though they were situations he had never considered before. He and Hannibal bumping shoulders along garden paths, smiling shyly at each other. Hannibal would pick a flower and present it to him while describing the characteristics of the genus or its meaning in the language of flowers. Will imagined Hannibal would be knowledgeable on both subjects. Conversely, he could picture Hannibal in a gray suit, sitting regally at a conference table. He wouldn’t appear out of place as a business owner or sleek politician…even if he was a serial killer.

Recalling Hannibal's crimes stopped Will's fantasies in their tracks. Unbidden, the scenes in his mind changed, from he and Hannibal walking side by side in a garden to him following behind Hannibal, who was secured to the hand truck, bite mask and straitjacket in place and surrounded by armed guards. Will probably wouldn't be able to see Hannibal's face, much less converse about their surroundings. Besides that, Dr. Chilton would never agree to allow Hannibal outside. The prisoner wasn't permitted out of his cell except under the most stringent protocols. Will wondered if the man would ever be allowed to walk anywhere besides within the walls of his cell. The conference room scene, likewise, shifted to Hannibal in his prison jumpsuit, secured the hand truck, and parked out of the way in the corner of the room. Guards and Barney would be present, blocking some of the precious sunshine and interrupting what could have been a quiet time of contemplation for the couple… for the Support Alpha and his charge.

“Mr. Graham?” Matthew’s questioning voice was a welcome intrusion into Will’s unsettled thoughts. When Will’s eyes focused on the orderly again, Matthew gestured toward the tray before Will. “Is the food not to your liking?”

“Oh,” Will said, looking down in surprise at the food. He had been so withdrawn into his mind that he had forgotten the bowl of fragrant gumbo. Picking up the spork, Will took a bite and hummed in appreciation. Though it had cooled somewhat, it was still warm in the middle. The dish was rich, familiar, and savory, the very definition of comfort food. “It’s good,” Will said between bites.

Matthew smiled warmly, his cheeks turning pink. He looked at the ground and rubbed his neck as if embarrassed. Then, he leaned forward and gripped the wrist of Will’s free arm that was resting on the table next to his tray, squeezing gently and leaving behind traces of his scent from his scent glands. “I’m pleased to provide something for you to enjoy. I have been thinking about you a lot and all the ways I could please you,” Matthew said, still holding Will’s wrist.

When Matthew touched him, Will jumped, the contact unexpected. It felt like the skin on his wrist was objecting to the other man’s touch, and though he wanted to jerk his arm free of Matthew’s hold, he allowed it to remain and smiled slightly. “Thanks for the food. I’m… I’m not sure if there is anything else I need. As for your offer, I’m not sure when Hannibal will return. I don’t want him to go through being secured twice if I am not here when he gets back.”

Matthew looked disappointed for a moment and glanced down at the tabletop. “I understand. I am not on the clock anyway. I saw Barney and the others heading this way on my way out, so I decided to bring you a meal before I went home.” He seemed to brighten when he realized he was still touching Will's arm. When Matthew looked up again, the smile was back on his face. "Maybe another time?" he pressed. "I'll find out the next time Dr. Lecter is going to be removed and come get you then."

“We’ll see,” Will said noncommittally. He gently pulled his arm until Matthew let go. Will didn’t resume eating until Matthew had returned his hands to his own lap. Even then, Will did not rest his free arm on the table again.

It didn’t take long before Matthew was talking again. “I still want to do something special for you,” he insisted.

Will shrugged. “I don’t have a house, and I am limited on what can come in here. There isn’t much I need.”

"I think you're just testing my ingenuity. You're a crafty one, Mr. Graham," Matthew said with a strange light in his eyes. He grew quiet, obviously pondering something deeply. Eventually, Matthew sat back and sighed, eyes darting around the cell for a clue. Then, he brightened and leaned forward again. "Would you like a book, Mr. Graham?"

Will recalled his first appointment with Bella after arriving at the BSHCI. She had also asked about books and promised to bring some. Unfortunately, she was not yet able to return, and Dr. Bloom had made no mention of books during her visits. Will had been content to read Hannibal's books and wait for Bella, but Matthew's suggestion was tempting. "I have my imagination," Will said neutrally.

"We all have one of those; some are more visionary than others. Mine has been focusing on you, so I want to give you something to make you happy. A book seems like the best idea, given your current situation," Matthew said eagerly. He put his hands on the tabletop, and Will had the impression he would have reached out if Will had not sat back with his hands in his lap.

Will made eye contact with the orderly long enough to realize the man would not accept no for an answer. He needed something bland, innocuous that wouldn't give this pushy alpha any more inroads. He racked his brain for what to say even as his instincts urged him to discuss Matthew's behavior with Hannibal. "News," Will blurted, feeling like he had run a marathon in just a few seconds. "I've been out of the world for a long time. I'd like a newspaper or a magazine to catch up on what is happening in the world."

Matthew appeared thoughtful. "That's a great idea!" He stood suddenly and quickly moved for the cell door before hesitating. "If you're done, I'll take your tray. I should go now to find the best news for you."

“I’m done,” Will said, pushing the tray toward the edge of the table closest to the orderly, any remaining appetite gone.

Matthew appeared even more delighted at the prospect of taking Will’s tray to the kitchen. “It might take me a day or two, but I’ll bring you the best news possible!” He left the cell but turned around to wave before disappearing from sight.

Will let out a relieved breath and shook his head. The orderly was unbalanced. Given Matthew's unique blend of mania and derangement, Will wondered how the man avoided being confined in a cell of his own alongside the patients he attended. In either case, Matthew's fixation on Will was concerning. He would definitely bring the issue to Hannibal's attention. Alerting Barney, Dr. Chilton, Dr. Bloom, or the guards didn't seem like an effective way to handle his concerns. It was natural that he would go to Hannibal if he had problems with another alpha, right? Was he becoming too attached? His logical brain wanted to agree, but it was thoroughly overridden by every other part of Will that insisted following his instincts was the right thing to do.

Maybe, Will reflected, his instincts were right more often than he gave them credit for, and he should trust them more. Besides, wasn't that the point of working with a Support Alpha? So he could learn to get in touch with and rely on his natural omegan instincts? Will felt that was true for himself on both counts.

Will returned to his nest and lay down as he seriously considered those questions. After settling comfortably on his side, he tugged Hannibal's pillow closer and buried his nose in the starchy fabric. The soothing scents of parchment, iron, and absinthe immediately filled Will's nose. He breathed deeply, allowing the pheromones to penetrate more than just his lungs. He imagined them surrounding every cell of his body and crossing the blood/brain barrier to calm rapidly firing neurons that always had him on edge.

Will allowed those comforting thoughts to soothe him as he reached an understanding with his omegan nature more profound than he had ever known before. Time passed at an indeterminate pace as Will floated in a haze of bliss and pheromones.

🔪🔪

Hannibal projected the very picture of cooperation and patience as he waited for Barney to remove his restraints and attach shackles to his wrists and ankles. Chains clinked softly with each movement. Hannibal mused the sound was jail’s version of a wind chime, a Stradivarius of steel even the most amateurish prisoner could play.

A burly alpha, brandishing a taser, barked commands at Hannibal to pass through a nearby door. Ignoring the brute's braying, Hannibal moved through the doorway as if the decision to do so had been his own. The room beyond was barely large enough for more than a single occupant and consisted of a window of glass, a chair, and a pass-through box. Once inside, the door behind him slammed, and a lock slid into place. Hannibal sat in the chair bolted to the floor opposite the thick pane of glass. Air holes, smaller than the diameter of a pencil, ran up and down the sides of the glass to allow sound to pass. The only other feature of the room was a box set into the wall, similar to the one in his cell.

Although Hannibal was eager to return to Will, the secure visitor's room was a nice change of scenery. It certainly had more substance than the staged surroundings of Frederick's office. Hannibal had been in that room several times, but it had been years since he and Mr. Kenner prepared his insanity defense.

Mr. Kenner was waiting there again, sitting in a similar chair on the other side of the glass but absent the handcuffs and shackles. The lawyer was briefly distracted when Barney entered the room behind him. Probably going over the rules, Hannibal thought. Regardless, he couldn’t be bothered to listen. Instead, he went about straightening the sleeves of his jumpsuit, which had been set awry by the tiresome straitjacket Frederick insisted upon using.

After a moment, the sound of the door closing reached Hannibal, and he looked up to find his attorney alone on the other side of the glass.

“I brought the paperwork you requested and the petition to modify the terms of your confinement,” Mr Kenner said immediately.

Hannibal appreciated the lawyer's ability to get right to the point. However, as a man disliked being rushed, Hannibal cleared his throat twice before replying. "Thank you, as always, Mr. Kenner. I trust there were no issues with adding Will to my accounts?"

"None at all, Dr. Lecter, not with the details you provided," the attorney said, opening a file folder and removing several sheets of paper. He put them in the box and pushed them through to Hannibal, along with a simple ballpoint pen. Mr. Kenner knew better than to instruct Hannibal to read and sign. Both men were professionals, and they had enough mutual respect to dispense with trivialities.

The chains clinked as Hannibal retrieved the paperwork from the box. His fingers quickly checked for overlooked staples or paperclips, but Mr. Kenner was thorough and always followed the rules regarding Hannibal's detention. With that thought in mind, he located the Petition to Modify Terms of Confinement and settled back to read it first.

There were state and federal laws in place that outlined prisoner recreational requirements. It was unlawful, for instance, to confine a prisoner to a cell indefinitely, with no opportunities for exercise or unencumbered movement. Hannibal knew Frederick's draconian rules were illegal but did not care enough to object. It was more pleasing to go along with the Director's little plan and deny the man any satisfaction knowing his edicts got under Hannibal's skin.

Hannibal was prepared to formally protest his conditions for Will's sake. Will often became restless, pacing inside the cell. Most of the time, Will was silent, lost in his head as he paced. Occasionally, Will would converse with Hannibal while walking between the back of the cell and the glass wall. Neither situation annoyed Hannibal, as he was used to the various habits of his patients, but Will was not a patient; he was Hannibal's future mate, and it bothered the alpha to see the omega's need for space and not be able to provide it. Hannibal had the impression that Will paced often while in captivity. It seemed both a learned behavior and a coping mechanism.

Reading through the two-page document, Hannibal signed the petition with a satisfied air. The law was on his side, no matter how it might make Frederick grind his teeth. Hopefully, Mr. Kenner would put the paperwork in front of a judge before the end of the week. Forcing Frederick’s hand was always a joy.

Placing the petition at the bottom of the pile, Hannibal reviewed his account statements and noted with pride the names of the account holders: Hannibal Lecter or William Graham. Hannibal was wise to grant his lawyer power of attorney long before he was indicted. It allowed the man to handle matters like that in Hannibal's stead.

The final papers detailed an anonymous donation Hannibal intended to make to the Omega Rehabilitation Center. Previously, Hannibal assisted the organization by donating his time and expertise through the role of Support Alpha. However, through his association with Will, he became aware of the charity's other needs, namely a large enough budget to benefit abused omegas. Hannibal would be sure to fill in any shortcomings in their fundraising so they could continue their important work. Hannibal filled in the donation amount he had in mind and returned all the papers to the box. After a moment's hesitation, he added the ballpoint pen as well. Barney would allow him to retain the writing instrument during his transport, and it would delay his return to Will if the orderly and guards were forced to search his person.

Mr. Kenner retrieved the papers from the box and shuffled through them to ensure everything was in order. "Excellent, Dr. Lecter. I also added Will as a beneficiary to your estate and insurance policies. I took the liberty of researching options for mated pairs when one of them is incarcerated. I admit the possibilities are less than ideal, but we can cross that bridge when we get there," he said, returning the paperwork to his briefcase.

“Thank you, Mr. Kenner. I will be in touch the next time I require your services,” Hannibal said, leaning forward in the chair and staring at the lawyer intently.

If Hannibal's intense stare unnerved the attorney, he gave no indication. "Understood, Dr. Lecter. It's always a pleasure," the man said, adjusting his yellow-tinted lenses perfunctorily. With a nod, he stood, picked up his briefcase, and left the small visitor's room.

All that was left for Hannibal to do was wait impatiently for Barney and the guards to return, secure him to the hand truck, and return him to his cell. He wondered what area of the BSHCI would be deemed “safe” enough for him to enjoy recreational time with Will. Perhaps Barney would be willing to divulge details after his petition was approved.

🔪🔪

Will was roused from his haze by the slamming of the cell block door. Will opened his eyes, not even aware of closing them. The footsteps and the squeaking at the hand truck's wheels reached his ears next.

My alpha is returning, Will thought. Even though he was cognizant, his brain was still in a more primitive state brought about by Hannibal's potent pheromones. Will turned his head toward the glass as the alpha was pushed into view. Their eyes locked immediately, and an omega purr of contentment rumbled in Will's chest. It was so loud that even Barney and the guards took notice. Hannibal's responding croon started a moment later.

The two kept their eyes on each other for as long as possible until Hannibal was forced to turn the other way so the guards and Barney could exit the cell. Wil stepped forward, eager to free his alpha's strong arms from the straitjacket's unyielding grip and remove the bite mask that fogged each time Hannibal exhaled and obscured his handsome face.

When the alpha was free, the two stood face to face, each taking note of the other’s stance and expression, an entire conversation held without uttering a sound. Neither of them noticed Barney and the guards leaving them alone.

Between one breath and the next, Will pressed himself against Hannibal’s chest, his arms around the alpha’s waist and his nose buried by the man’s scent gland. It took several minutes before Will realized Hannibal was holding him just as tightly and rocking them back and forth, making gentle shushing sounds in addition to the purr. “I’m here, my Will. I’ve got you,” the alpha whispered in Will’s ear.

William sighed happily and snuggled closer before requesting, "Alpha, rest in the nest with me." He didn't notice Hannibal's eyes widening at the invitation, but it wouldn't have made any difference to Will. Still, in an instinctive frame of mind, Will stepped back and led the alpha to his nest, lying down first next to the wall and pulling the alpha next to him to form a barrier between himself and the outside world.

Hannibal didn't speak as the two arranged themselves into a comfortable position. Will started to purr again when he felt Hannibal's arm wrap protectively around him. The alpha's croon began soon after, and their rumbling sounds harmonized perfectly. If someone had told Will he would meet someone like Hannibal Lecter and be charmed by him, he would not have believed it, but as they lay together in Will's nest, Will realized Hannibal was special. Yes, an alpha, but so much more. Regardless of how the world might view Hannibal Lecter, to Will, he was safe, a source of comfort, and the essence of home.

🔪🔪

Chapter Text

The obnoxious tone of the morning buzzer echoed down the labyrinthine hallways of the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane. In the maximum security wing, Hannibal Lecter opened his garnet eyes and took in his cell of glass and stone. For just an instant, he was disoriented. Years had passed since the buzzer last served as a crude wake-up call. For most of Hannibal’s life, his circadian rhythm had allowed him to wake before dawn.

What made that morning different?

Seemingly in answer, the man in Hannibal's arms grumbled in discontent and cursed the buzzer for interrupting his dreams. He pressed his face into Hannibal's neck to avoid the bright lights that flickered on above. As the man shifted, the rich scent of dark chocolate rose in the air. Hannibal smiled and pushed his nose into Will's dark curls. The alpha's keen nose detected a decided sweetness overpowering the usual bitter undertones. He inhaled deeply, taking in the omega's scent, which was more rich and potent than usual. It made him feel both protective and relaxed. The contradictory drives weren't out of place to Hannibal, as Will was a man of paradoxes, much like the alpha himself.

Despite the lights and buzzer, patients at the BSHCI were not required to rise at a set time each day. Without discussion, the men decided to stay in bed for a while longer. There was nowhere to go, and no one was out of the ordinary except Dr. Bloom, who would arrive for Will's weekly therapy session sometime after lunch. For the moment, there was nothing more important for Hannibal to do than cradle his bedmate.

Hannibal straightened his legs and stretched the best he could. It was cramped in Will’s nest, with two grown men crammed onto a bed meant for a single individual, but Hannibal had never felt more comfortable. It certainly wasn’t owing to the thin jailhouse mattress, even with all the extra layers of plush blankets. The origin of Hannibal’s contentment was Will himself. Simply being in the man’s presence was fulfilling on every level he could think of: emotional, instinctual, physical, social, intellectual, even spiritual, though Hannibal was far from a religious man.

For a while, they lay together, neither speaking, when, without warning, Will's scent flared again, seeking to entice rather than soothe. The concentration of pheromones was so dense that Hannibal almost expected to see it in physical form, like fog on a cool morning. If feelings could be color-coded, Will's had shifted from the blues and greens of relaxation and safety to the fiery red hues of passion and danger. The omega moaned and rubbed his groin against Hannibal's leg. The tell-tale hardness beneath Will's thin boxers conveyed the omega's need as clearly as words spoken aloud. It was a call to action so strong it was all Hannibal could do to keep himself from flipping and mounting the delicious omega destined to be his mate.

Will looked up into Hannibal's face, his eyes hazy and unfocused. The scent of an omega going into heat swirled around them. Despite the omega's pheromones beckoning him to continue, tempting him to claim and bond with his True Mate, Hannibal realized Will was not wholly aware of his actions. The change had happened too fast, without the usual pre-heat symptoms that lasted days before a heat began. And when a heat started, it typically took between 3 and 5 days before it was satiated.

But Will’s body didn't seem to care what it was supposed to do. “Alpha,” he gasped desperately before smashing his lips against Hannibal’s so roughly the alpha had to pull back to prevent his lips from being cut by his own teeth. Will was caught between the kiss and a moan, his mouth half open and panting, his motions uncoordinated.

Even though Hannibal knew the situation was wrong, his inner alpha would not permit his True Mate to suffer when it was within his power to help. Overwhelmed by the potent scent, Hannibal touched Will’s cheek and tilted the omega’s head so their lips could slot together at a more comfortable angle. Hannibal then took control of the kiss. Slowing the pace and gently parting Will’s lips with his tongue, Hannibal used the appendage to map out the inside of Will’s mouth.

When Will moaned again, the energy changed, and Hannibal kissed Will with a ferocity suppressed before. Will squirmed in his arms, moaning and occasionally biting Hannibal's lips with sharp teeth that almost drew blood. The evidence of Will's fierceness drove Hannibal's ardor to new heights, and it was all he could do to prevent himself from ripping the omega's clothes off. When the smell of slick joined the pheromones produced by Will's scent glands, Hannibal growled in approval. His mate was beautiful, perfect, wild, passionate, and all Hannibal's.

Suddenly, a voice called to them through the brightly lit cell block. “Lecter, I can smell that omega’s cunt!” Multiple Miggs from the next cell said loudly enough to carry. The frenzied slapping masturbation began, along with a grating, erratic giggle.

Pulling his mouth away from Will's, Hannibal turned his head toward the glass and snarled like a wild animal. The insane giggling and rhythmic whacking sound from the adjacent cell stopped immediately.

Hannibal then returned his gaze to Will and, for the first time, took note of their situation. The omega's eyes were still glazed. He whimpered and glanced around, seeming not to remember his surroundings. He recognized Hannibal, though, at least on a primal level. "Alpha," he whimpered, a pleading whine escaping his lips.

Seeking to soothe his distressed mate, Hannibal purred and rubbed his cheek against Will's face and hair. Will relaxed in increments until his whine tapered off. Encouraged by his success, Hannibal moved lower to run his cheek over Will's throat but froze when the omega growled lowly. Apparently, the alpha's teeth had been too close to Will's bonding gland.

“Hannibal?” Will asked softly then, confusion lacing his tone.

Concerned, Hannibal pulled back to reevaluate his future mate. Garnet eyes bounced over Will's face, taking in minute details. Relief washed over him when he saw signs of Will's rational mind reappearing. No longer enmeshed in an instinctual haze, the tantalizing traces of sweetness disappeared from Will's scent, and familiar bitter undertones returned. While the ultimate goal of a Support Alpha was for their omega charge to feel comfortable following their instincts, the onset of a heat or thoughts about bonding were premature.

“I‘m here, Will,” Hannibal said comfortingly. “Everything is fine. Rest.” He started to croon, and it wasn’t long before Will relaxed, and the even sounds of breathing could be heard.

Cradling his omega, Hannibal's mind raced. Will's body must recognize Hannibal as his alpha, even if his conscious mind was not yet aware. During medical school, Hannibal had read studies about omegas and alphas undergoing pseudo-heats or ruts. Such situations were usually attributed to unbalanced hormones, but in one particular study, the authors credited the anomaly to the true mate phenomenon, something Hannibal himself had discounted until recently. Now, that study might be worth a second look.

In the meantime, it was imperative that Hannibal remain in control of himself. He would never treat his mate disrespectfully or claim him without prior consent. As much as he desired a future with Will, the omega had not yet recovered enough. The trauma Will suffered had to be fully exposed so healing could begin. Will was not yet ready, but Hannibal hoped that between himself and Bella Crawford, Will would soon feel comfortable enough to confide what he had endured. The only information Hannibal hoped Will would hold back was the name of his captor.

When it came to Will, Hannibal found himself pulled in different directions. His alpha instincts urged him to shelter and hide his mate away from anything that would cause him distress. Hannibal's experience as a physician was focused on Will's health, his weight, and complete physical recovery. Meanwhile, his inner psychiatrist longed to pick Will's mind apart to see what made him tick, then put him back together and observe what would happen. The killer instincts that had been present since Hannibal's youth recognized a fellow hunter and rejoiced that his future partner was a predator, too. Maintaining control over his various instincts would be difficult, but Hannibal welcomed the challenge. Will made his life more fulfilling and interesting. Only then could he acknowledge the banality of his existence before Will's arrival.

The concept of destiny was not something Hannibal considered seriously in the past. In fact, he had assumed patients who believed in the idea were uneducated, if not delusional. However, he was reevaluating his suppositions after meeting Will. Why had Hannibal been content to sit in prison for so long? Despite his deeds coming to light, he was a cunning man with wealth and influence. Hannibal could have escaped. With Mr. Kenner's assistance, he was already taking steps to free himself and Will. The reason for the delay hadn't seemed entirely clear. He occasionally considered escape but deemed it more entertaining to remain confined, vexing Frederick at every opportunity.

Now, it appeared the universe kept him in the cell to patiently await Will's arrival. And like a good alpha, he had waited.

A slam from down the hall and the rumbling of the food cart woke Will a few minutes later. Even though he hadn’t napped for more than ten minutes, the second time Will awoke was different from the first. He quickly pulled away from Hannibal’s arms and didn’t glance back as he sat and looked down the hallway. “Is that breakfast?” he asked, his stomach rumbling loudly.

"Yes, it should be," Hannibal replied, trying to repress a growl of annoyance at Will avoiding eye contact. Despite his time analyzing their situation and his responsibilities, Hannibal's inner alpha was still remarkably close to the surface. It did not like its mate putting distance between them while behaving strangely. Still, Hannibal was a man of logic as well as lust. He was as aroused by the chance Will offered for Hannibal to challenge his own self-control as he was tantalized by the man's body. With a great effort and a thrill of victory, Hannibal pushed his instincts aside. Genuine concern filled his voice a moment later when he asked, "Will, is everything okay?"

A long-held breath exploded from Will's lips at the question, and he turned to look at Hannibal, his eyes uncertain. Hannibal saw that Will's bottom lip was bright red from where the omega had been biting it. Will babbled, almost tripping over his words, "Hannibal, I'm not sure what happened. I've never felt like that before. I'm sorry if I… if I forced myself on you."

Will's words had a breathy quality that called to mind moans from their recent encounter. Hannibal's logical side lost control long enough for his instinctive side to growl out, "Omega, you never need to apologize to me for acting on your desires. I would see your every whim satisfied. Getting exactly what you want is dangerous, but I think you'd like the thrill."

Reacting to the alpha's charged words, Will's emotions shifted again. His eyes blazed with desire, and he turned in the nest as if he intended to pounce. Will licked his lips, taking in Hannibal. "Alpha," he purred, a carnal promise charging the word like lightning. For an instant, Hannibal wondered if his well-honed self-control was about to fail him. But before Will could close the distance, Barney arrived with breakfast.

"Morning, Will. Dr. Lecter," Barney greeted cheerfully. The orderly smiled in their direction briefly before turning his attention to the food trays. He didn't seem aware of the scene he had unwittingly disturbed. Hannibal couldn't help but be thankful for the interruption. Will seemed confused, possibly even shocked by his actions, and needed time to gather himself. Rising smoothly from the nest, Hannibal approached the glass and politely conversed with Barney. Thankfully, his erection had subsided quickly upon Barney's arrival. Hannibal accepted the trays and placed them on the table to give Will additional time. After Barney left, Hannibal checked over their meals and arranged the food in a visually appealing way. The eyes are the first sense one utilizes before eating, after all.

Will still had not moved when Hannibal finished, so the alpha called his name gently. Only then did Will return to himself. He climbed from the nest and retreated to the rear of the cell to freshen up. When he returned, he looked much the same, face thoughtful and still wearing his undershirt and boxers. He sat at his usual chair and ate perfunctorily, his mind evidently occupied. Hannibal watched him momentarily before excusing himself to spend several minutes behind the privacy screen. When he returned, it did not appear that Will had taken notice of his absence. Hannibal sat opposite the omega and ate his own meal, monitoring the man's scent and appearance for any sign of distress.

But Will didn’t appear distressed, just thoughtful. Hannibal intended to allow Will all the time and space he needed while his mind worked through whatever it was that had distracted him almost entirely. Hannibal was privately quite proud of Will’s trust. Why else would he let his guard down around Hannibal to such a degree? Hannibal was curious about what Will was working out in his mind. Did it involve the man’s past or his present? Hannibal very much intended to be Will’s future. To reach that goal, Hannibal had long ago decided to make each move in the present with the future in mind. The evidence thus far showed his efforts were paying off.

By the time their meals were consumed, Will was more animated, responding to Hannibal's occasional questions. However, he didn't seem prepared to discuss his thoughts. Instead, he assisted Hannibal in clearing the table and then excused himself to shower. "Let's talk later," Will said quietly before disappearing behind the privacy screen to start the shower.

Hannibal watched Will's opaque form for a moment, then glanced around the cell, searching for threats to his mate. Finding no evidence of a rival, Hannibal's rational mind managed to claw its way back to the surface. The alpha was keyed up. Adrenaline flooded his system. He needed to calm down. Hannibal closed his eyes briefly, then began his daily exercise routine.

At first, Hannibal rejected conscious thought and banished stray observances. He focused on moving his body with control and precision. The repetitive movements and familiar routine calmed his mind. Only then did he allow himself to evaluate the morning's events. Will's emotions had been volatile and erratic since he woke that morning. From the pseudo-heat to fear to neediness, hope, daring, and lust, the delicious omega was worth every twist and turn in the roller coaster of emotions.

Of course, mood swings and volatility were to be expected with traumatized omegas, and Will's file from the ORC contained numerous examples of that unpredictability. The difference between the care Will received at the ORC and the care Hannibal could provide was Hannibal's unique ability to sense Will's needs and meet those needs almost effortlessly. Hannibal's desire to please and soothe Will was instinctual but much more.

Switching from running in place to lunges, Hannibal allowed his intuitive mind to turn inward, to examine, and critique his own actions. He completed a set of squats while doing some self-reflection. In the end, Hannibal concluded his responses had been appropriate to meet Will's need with each shift in mood, especially considering the added complication of him knowing their true mate status while Will did not. Hannibal had no desire to tell him, either. Will would work out the truth on his own, Hannibal had no doubt. Judging from Will's extended period of contemplation, Hannibal judged that time to not be far off.

By the time Will had finished his shower and donned a fresh change of clothes, Hannibal was waiting to take his turn behind the screen. Will met his eyes and smiled shyly before ducking around Hannibal to bundle his dirty clothes.

Smiling to himself, Hannibal turned the pock-marked shower knob. Cold water sputtered from the showerhead before shifting to a steady flow moments later. Leaving the water to warm, Hannibal undressed, setting his soiled clothing aside to be laundered. The usual sounds of prison life faded away as soon as he stepped beneath the spray. Hannibal closed his eyes in his cell and reopened them in the familiar halls of his mind palace. Hannibal briefly surveyed his surroundings. Was it quiet enough? Peaceful enough? The acoustics in his cell usually did little more than amplify the ramblings of other inmates. However, there were times when the white noise from the shower drowned out enough for his memory to replay a beautiful piece with stunning clarity. Hannibal settled his mind further until the memory of a tear-jerking performance of "O mio babbino caro," the Mount Everest of soprano arias, rose to the surface of his thoughts. It fit his mood perfectly, and he allowed it to play.

As Hannibal habitually cleaned his body, his mind was equally awash in the lilting notes of a song about internal struggle and the desperate hope for requited love. Later, when Hannibal was rinsing shampoo from his hair, he heard the rattling of the empty food cart. It was a commonplace sound that didn't raise alarm. Barney always followed the same routine when gathering meal trays from each patient. When the clamor stopped in front of his cell, Hannibal wasn't surprised to hear the pass-through door open and close twice, as Will was more than capable of returning their meal trays to the orderly. Hannibal waited expectantly. At that point, the food cart should have rolled away. But the cart had not moved.

Dismissing the operatic aria with a thought, Hannibal's keen mind returned to the happenings in his cell. He inhaled deeply, gathering information on Will's state and evaluating the situation at hand. Relief at Will's well-being did not negate his surprise that the person Will was interacting with was not Barney as he expected, but was instead Matthew Brown. Where was Barney? The man had dropped off the trays an hour ago and did not mention an appointment or meeting that would keep him from his regular duties.

Suppressing his initial impulse to barge in, ward off his rival, and corral Will to a safe location, Hannibal instead strained to hear the conversation taking place by the glass. He even nudged the screen aside a couple of inches, as always silent when he wanted to be. The expanded opening allowed their words to more clearly reach his ear.

“...me longer than I thought to find the perfect news for you, but I finally have it!” Matthew Brown was saying, evident pride lacing his voice. The pass-thru box opened and closed again. News? What are they talking about? Hannibal wondered. Abandoning stealth, Hannibal lingered in the spray, listening intently without an ounce of shame. What new information could he glean about Will? Eavesdropping was hardly a line he would hesitate to cross, especially not when his future mate was involved.

“Uh, thanks,” Will said. Then, after a moment, he asked, “Tattle Crime? Wait, these look like articles printed from a website.”

"They are," Matthew said enthusiastically. "That's every article I could find written about you from when you were first taken to when you were found. There are some fun things in there, like a kidnapping word search. Oh! On page six are the results from the reader poll. People voted for what they think you would be doing right now if you weren't kidnapped. I think 'Omega Homemaker' won, but I voted for 'Car Wash Attendant.' You look like you'd be good at that ."

“I…I see,” Will said faintly. From the sound of his voice, Hannibal was concerned for Will’s energy levels and balance.

Apparently, Matthew had more to say on the matter. "You said you wanted to catch up on the important news since you were taken. I thought about what was most important and just kept thinking about you. I knew you'd want to read them, too, since we have similar interests! I looked up all the old articles after I saw a picture of you in the more recent ones. I haven't memorized them yet, but give me another week, and I'll bet you can read me any line from any of those, and I'll be able to tell you the headline, byline, or anything about it. By the way, I'm not sure who that author… uh, Freddie Lounds, uses for photos, but there is a great picture of you in a hospital bed somewhere in there," Matthew said, trailing off. "If you want to pass them back through, I'll find it for you."

Will’s voice sounded strained, but he was apparently managing. “I’m sure I’ll find it at some point,” he said. Hannibal heard the faint rustling of papers and imagined Will flipping through the sensationalized articles, riddled with falsehoods and centering around the most traumatizing event in his life.

"If you want, I can organize them by date, alphabetize them by headline, or put them in order from my most to least favorite!" Matthew offered eagerly.

“That’s very kind of you to offer, but I think I’ll be fine,” Will said.

“Sure thing, Mr. Graham. If you change your mind or think of anything else, just let me know,” Matthew said.

“Okay, well, thanks again,” Will said, evidently done with the conversation, but Matthew had more to say.

“People don’t understand much about me…. Or about you. I’m glad you’re here. We’ll at least understand each other,” Matthew said.

Will’s silence spoke loudly to Hannibal. He didn’t need to see the omega’s face to know Will was discomfited by Matthew’s declaration. Will had previously confided to Hannibal his difficulty with conversation, having gone so many years without a soul who wanted to hear him say anything. Small talk was particularly vexing for the omega, and he tended to skip pleasantries and instead dive right in. Will and Hannibal had been working on the omega’s social skills, including small talk. As a man who appreciated polite witticisms, historical tales, and compliments of all kinds, Dr. Hannibal Lecter was just the man to teach Will to value the art of the tête-à-tête.

Unfortunately, Will’s lack of skill was apparent when he attempted to deflect Matthew’s brazen comment with humor. “Is this therapy or a support group?” he quipped, leaving an opening a mile wide for an unscrupulous alpha to swoop in and destroy the still-curing support pillars Hannibal was carefully constructing in Will’s mind. Thankfully, Hannibal’s worst-case scenario did not come to pass.

"It's whatever you need it to be. You can tell me anything," Matthew said solemnly, almost innocently. Both men were momentarily silent. The only sound was the water from Hannibal's shower. Then Matthew spoke again. "I really like you, Mr. Graham," Matthew confessed. "We're not supposed to become personally involved with any inmates here, but you aren't technically a patient. If you need a place to stay or anything else when you leave here, just let me know, Mr. Graham."

"Matthew, I… I don't know what to say," Will said, surprised and wary.

The orderly didn’t appear to pick up on Will’s caution. “Just keep it in mind, Mr. Graham. I’m always happy to do a favor for a friend. Just say the words,” he vowed.

After that declaration, Hannibal was ready for Will and Matthew Brown's conversation to end. Even if the men had more to say, Matthew's offer had opened up possibilities Hannibal had not considered. It was up to him to signal the other alpha had lingered long enough and should move along to attend to the rest of his duties. Once Matthew was out of the way, at least for the moment, Hannibal intended to use all the finesse at his disposal to guide Will along the new path that had just opened up.

Turning off the water, Hannibal grabbed the towel hanging from the top of the privacy screen. As he dried off, Matthew murmured a farewell. The rustling of paper, as startling in the stillness as a gunshot, was followed by a sigh. Silence descended afterward, and Hannibal wondered if Will had forgotten to breathe. Moving quickly and precisely, Hannibal was soon dressed in clean undergarments and a jumpsuit.

After emerging from behind the screen, Hannibal wasn't surprised to see Will sitting at the table, staring absently at a disordered jumble of paper. Hannibal glanced at it. The words on several pages were badly smeared as if the paper was removed from the printer before the ink could dry. He dismissed the pages from his mind and focused instead on the man before him.

"It seems you have an admirer, Will," Hannibal noted as he sat on his bed to don his socks and prison-issued shoes. His direct approach to the subject was perfectly timed; just then, Matthew pushed the cart into view, heading for the exit. Hannibal was personally gratified to see the shorter alpha's hunched posture as he did his best not to be noticed.

Embarrassment then annoyance flashed across Will’s face as he glanced at the retreating alpha. “I suppose, though there’s not much to admire,” he said with a shrug and a gesture toward himself.

“I disagree,” Hannibal replied, looking the omega over with a decidedly different air.

Will scoffed and looked down at the concrete floor. He still had not put on socks or shoes after his shower, and the sight of his bare, delicate feet on the starkly industrial surface was almost obscene. "I'm nothing special," Will insisted, his arms crossed petulantly against his chest. Part of his face was obscured by soft brown curls, which simply would not do despite how undeniably cute the omega was at that moment. To properly guide Will, Hannibal needed Will's undivided attention.

“And yet, I admire much about you,” Hannibal countered. It was a simple statement of fact. Rising smoothly from his bed, Hannibal slowly circled Will. The alpha’s posture was straight and controlled without being rigid. He moved like a predator unsure of the status of its prey. His hands were loosely gripped behind his back, and he made no particular effort to catch Will’s eye as he paced. ”Did you see the way our friend Matthew looks at you?” Hannibal pressed.

Will shrugged. “I don’t care how people like him look at me,”’ he said defensively, his posture still closed off.

At that point in his circuit, Hannibal was directly behind Will. He darted closer to whisper into the younger man’s ear, his hot breath ghosting down Will’s neck, “And why not, Will? As an omega, are you not a source of lust? An object of desire for what you are and not who you are?”

“That’s not a fair assessment to put over any group of people,” Will protested, turning to look at Hannibal as the alpha continued his circuit.

“I agree. To apply such a generalization to you, in particular, would be most unjust. You, who so desires to be seen for more than your dynamic. I see you for what you truly are. Beyond a source of beauty or fascination, I see the potential for so much more in you. I see-”

But Will cut him off, scoffing, "Potential?" with all the disdain he could muster. "Trust me, Hannibal. Even if I continue to recover, when I leave this place-" Will paused and pointedly looked around before continuing in a quieter tone. "When I leave this place, I'll end up on the streets. What do I have? Not family. My dad is dead. He was broke, so there was no chance of help there. I'll have no home or money," Will finished defeatedly.

“Matthew has offered you a home,” Hannibal mentioned leadingly. He tilted his head slightly, reminiscent of a curious canine, as he observed Will’s reaction to the statement.

“Yeah, I don’t see that working out,” Will said flatly.

"Still, evaluating every option for the best advantage is wise. The opportunities in front of you are still blurry, but I will help you sharpen the image until your path forward becomes clear. Tell me, Will. Is your future weighing heavily on your mind?" Hannibal asked. He had slipped into a more professional tone, and though he hated to use it with his mate, he judged it best to insert a hint of emotional distance on his own end to knock Will further off-balance. Such an action wasn't a denial of autonomy to Hannibal's mind; instead, it was an alpha doing what was best for his omega.

Still, Hannibal privately acknowledged he might have moved too quickly when Will retorted, “Do you have some magical alpha powers that allow you to read my thoughts?” His annoyance was evident.

As much as Hannibal wished to spare Will such discomfort, he knew it was necessary. Finding self-acceptance was much akin to building up muscle. The process could be painful, but the tenderness was a necessary part of growth. Instead of answering the question, Hannibal steered their conversation in another direction. Verbal sparring with Will was always rewarding. After all, who knew where they might end up? But it was time to appeal to Will's sense of self-preservation, "After everything you have suffered and endured, don't you think you deserve something special, just for yourself?"

Will didn't reply directly. Instead, he murmured something unintelligible and didn't look in the alpha's direction.

Hannibal wouldn't let Will avoid the topic and so pressed on. "Would you like a small apartment somewhere and a job at the ORC?" the alpha asked.

When Will hesitated, Hannibal continued his barrage of questions. His circuit around Will tightened, and his pace increased, creating a rising sense of tension. "It is certainly a plausible option. Much like recovering addicts who find safe employment at sober living facilities, it is common for abused omegas to stay close to their sphere of recovery. It isn't a bad idea. Are you resistant to restarting your life, Will? Do you not desire to repay the kindness you were shown by, in turn, assisting other traumatized omegas?"

“Not particularly,” Will admitted bluntly.

Hannibal's eyes flared with interest. "Tell me why," he pressed, in a tone impossible to ignore.

“I can’t stand the whining of the omegas there. They acted so helpless; it’s pathetic,” Will admitted. He was equally ashamed and disgusted.

“You do not feel a sense of kinship with them? A bond formed by similar trauma?” Hannibal inquired.

Will squeezed his eyes shut, but whether he wanted to block out Hannibal or the images from his memories was unclear. “They were weak. They should have fought back! There is always a way. You have to keep fighting,” Will insisted.

“Like you did?” Hannibal asked, still circling the younger man. He ran his hand along Will’s shoulders as he passed behind him.

“I did,” Will agreed, meeting Hannibal’s look with a stare, intent and defiant.

Hannibal, overwhelmed by Will's intensity, shivered at the challenge in those eyes, and his alpha scent conveyed approval, "Yes. Your wild instincts have served you well." He resumed circling Will, his head tilted to the side, as he invited additional disclosures. "And who did you picture when you railed against the loneliness in your mind?"”

Will’s face darkened, and his eyes grew distant. “Him. Always him,” he grated out through clenched teeth.

Hannibal hummed in contemplation. Seeing hints of rage break through Will's unassuming shell was exciting. Hannibal stepped into Will's personal space until the men were chest to chest and studied Will out of the corner of one sharp eye. "I wonder, Will. Do you want me to feel jealous with all this talk about another man?"

Will appeared to come up short when Hannibal's words registered, and he stood slack-jawed for a moment before stuttering a reply. The faint scent of omega arousal returned at Hannibal's statement despite the disquieting nature of their conversation. Ignoring Hannibal's obvious flirtation with a determined look and, in spite, cheeks tinted pink in embarrassment, Will said, "He organized and oversaw the subjugation of kidnapped omegas and encouraged others to do the same. It was inhumane. Most omegas did not last more than a match or two. Rarely did I face the same opponent more than twice, but I survived them all."

Hannibal's eyes fluttered in bliss at the mention of Will's superiority over other omegas. "Indeed. Conventionally, docility has been a favored omega trait, but social fads can only undermine, not override, the fiercely protective nature of omegas. Your actions ensured your survival."

“You speak like harming others is something to be enjoyed…”

Hannibal leaned closer. His lips brushed the shell of Will’s ear. “And did you not enjoy it, Will?” Hannibal asked, hot breath ghosting over Will’s neck, causing him to shiver. “Do you deny your triumph at seeing an opponent defeated? Because I would not believe you. There are precious few who would understand the rush. Did your heart not race with adrenaline and the thrill of victory? Did your very being not exalt that you would live another day?”

“I... I hated to harm people who were just as much a victim as I was,” Will defended.

“Yet, you did what was necessary to survive,” Hannibal stated. Will did not respond, so Hannibal continued after a moment. “Did you imagine the violence you were forced to inflict on others was the justice he rightfully deserved?” Hannibal’s voice had taken on an appreciative tone, one Will couldn’t help but notice.

"Yes," Will whispered, apparently admitting the truth despite himself. The omega's eyes were wide and fixed on the floor, but they were dry, and his stare was hard.

“I wonder… what you would wish for if you could have anything you wanted,” Hannibal said. He was facing Will in the open space between their beds when the omega’s eyes raised to meet his own. Hannibal was unprepared for the murderous rage that Will had thus far concealed in the small lines at the corners of his eyes and in the tight clench of his jaw.

“I would have him know my helplessness and desperation,” Will grated out. His eyes sparkled, lit by an inner smolder, just waiting to be fanned into a roaring inferno.

Hannibal was overcome by the zeal in Will’s voice and slowly advanced upon him. Each step forward was calculated, almost silent, yet no less intimidating. Overcome, Will took first one hesitant step back and then another. Hannibal’s eyes glowed with a hidden need, and he growled approvingly of Will’s instinctual retreat. “Yes. He should know your wrath, that side of you that only your opponents have seen,” Hannibal said as he advanced.

Will had backed up into the concrete wall next to the glass with Hannibal right in front of him. Despite a deadly predator closing in on him, Will showed no fear. If anything, Hannibal's excitement fueled Will's own. "I know where it hurts," Will said, intently meeting the advancing alpha's eyes. The smell of omega excitement swelled again, but it was more than simply lust.

Hannibal closed in on Will and pressed their bodies together from chest to knee. An arm on either side of the younger man bracketed him against the wall. For a moment, Hannibal couldn’t speak, so overwhelmed was he by the omega’s riled-up pheromones. The scent was somehow different from other times Will had been excited. It was a fuller, more pure essence of Will, even more primal than the smell of his heat. With a rush of euphoria, Hannibal realized this was what Will smelled like when he wanted to kill.

The smell was everything and everywhere, all-consuming, compelling, sweet, and sharp like a knife dipped in raspberry jam. Hannibal wanted to claim it, to own the being associated with it down to its core. This creature, this omega, this man…was his.

It was then that Hannibal undertook the greatest internal struggle of his life. Every example of self-restraint he had shown up until that point had been child's play compared to the herculean effort required for Hannibal to stop himself from biting Will then and there. The victory over his more animal instincts was immense, but Hannibal did not forget the being that made the battle possible: Will. His glorious mate!

When he spoke, Hannibal's words were rough but quiet. As overcome as he was by the immensity of his emotions, he still didn't want their conversation to be picked up by the ubiquitous microphones. "You could leave this place and make him feel your wrath, end his charade, and show the world the truth about him," Hannibal said.

Will whined in response and melted against the wall, inviting Hannibal to press against him all the more. He appeared captivated by Hannibal's words and the possibilities laid out before him. Hannibal continued to whisper suggestions of brutal revenge and the sweet defeat of a man who deserved it more than most.

“Alpha, will you help me?” Will gasped, instinctively overcome by Hannibal’s pheromones. He turned his face to the side and shivered when Hannibal dropped his head to sniff at the proffered scent gland on Will’s neck.

“I’m here, Will,” Hannibal growled reassuringly. He rubbed his own scent gland against the omega’s, a bold action he had not contemplated before but was pleased to have followed his instincts when he saw Will’s reaction. The omega’s eyes fluttered closed, and he leaned heavily against the taller alpha. Hannibal tucked Will’s head against his shoulder and turned to whisper plans into Will’s ear. He wove together a glorious design of manipulation, escape, stalking, and violence. He spoke of their future together, filled with scenes of domestic tranquility only interrupted by thrilling spectacles of blood.

As Hannibal continued to outline his plan in a tone that could only be described as a verbal seduction, a small part of his vast mind marveled at the ease with which he had ensnared the other man. That same part also acknowledged that he was dancing to Will's tune as readily as he moved the omega's strings. If he and Will were to entwine their strings, becoming impossibly tangled, trapped, and knotted together, forever…. Well, there would never be an artwork, a symphony, or a natural wonder capable of rivaling their connection. Not even God in the heavens, as profound as existence itself and capable of making both Heaven and Earth tremble in wonder, could create something more breathtaking or miraculous as his bond with Will…

Abruptly, Hannibal ceased his inner observations, annoyed that he had allowed himself to ramble into prose. A glance at Will revealed the man’s captivated face. Had Hannibal actually voiced those thoughts aloud? It was impossible to tell by simply looking whether the other man was ensnared by Hannibal’s plan, his tone, his pheromones, or the confessions of his heart.

Hannibal's monologue continued, waxing on about the sweetness of revenge and how the color of blood changes in the moonlight from a bright gush of crimson to the shadows of a bottomless chasm. As he spoke, the importance of Hannibal's exact words fell away. No longer carefully planning each remark, he began paraphrasing ideas from his mind until he simply thought of what to say but was unsure if the words left his lips. Maybe it didn't matter if he spoke; he followed where his instincts led as an event beyond words unfolded around them. Will was discovering his place at Hannibal's side. Hannibal, who had long since accepted the inevitability of him and Will in each other's lives, was content with such an arrangement. A thrill shot through the alpha when he realized discussing murder and manipulation was reeling his mate closer. Was falling in love always so easy?

The sound of footsteps, accompanied by a low hum, interrupted the pair. They had been so wrapped up in each other that neither had heard visitors enter the cell block. They straightened and righted themselves, preparing themselves for the possible arrival of guests.

From down the hall came Frederick, his cane, for once, absent, and his face resigned. The doctor's entire being gave the impression of long suffering, and his posture was hunched as if he carried a significant burden. The cause? Most likely, the stack of books braced against his chest. Frederick never did give the impression of a man who enjoyed physical exertion.

Following Frederick was a professional, serious-looking man whose frown called to mind the deep scowl of a bulldog but whose general features gave the impression of a man who was handsome when he smiled. The man wore a pressed, though average, department store suit with a laminated "visitors" badge pinned to the lapel. His appearance would have been more note-worthy if not for his seated companion.

“Bella!” Will called out, his voice filled with joy.

Bella Crawford smiled from her wheelchair and raised a hand in greeting. “Hi, Will,” she said warmly. The approaching group reached Hannibal’s cell, and Bella was parked directly in front of the glass, her pleased smile never leaving her lips.

Will studied her for a moment. “Nice wheels,” he complimented.

Dark red nail polish shimmered in the overhead lights when Bella ran her fingers over the wheelchair's armrest. She shrugged and appeared regretful, "Too bad it didn't come in pink," she quipped. Will's laugh was unrestrained and genuine. Bella's smile widened, then turned wistful as she watched the omega. When he settled and made eye contact, his expression was pleased instead of anxious; Bella couldn't resist commenting on it any longer. "Will, I can't tell you how good it is to see you smile."

🔪🔪

Chapter Text

When Bella complimented Will’s smile, his cheeks turned rosy, and his gaze dropped to the floor. However, the grin she had praised never left his lips.

"Enough about me," Will said dismissively. "What kind of mess did you get yourself into?" He crossed his arms over his chest and a foot tapping expectantly on the floor. Will wouldn't normally speak so casually to a caregiver, but Bella was more than his social worker. She was a friend, and asking about a friend's health was perfectly acceptable. Bella had only been able to visit Will once after he arrived at the BSHCI. The following week, when it was time for their next appointment, Barney appeared instead with news that Bella would be away due to an undisclosed medical ailment. Although Dr. Bloom had been an acceptable temporary substitute, Will was pleased to see Bella return.

“Oh, you know, this and that,” Bella replied airily. With the two men flanking her, Bella resembled a queen on a palanquin more closely than a person recovering from a significant medical event. There were signs of fatigue around her eyes, but she was dressed to the nines, her makeup highlighted her best features, and the waves set in her hair framed her face perfectly.

Will’s gaze was assessing. “Well, judging by those killer heels, there’s nothing wrong with your legs,” he said.

Bella lifted a shoe from the wheelchair’s footplate, showing off her pointy-toe pumps in bright pink suede. “You know what they say: ‘The higher the heel, the better you feel,’” she quipped.

Dr. Chilton shifted on his feet and bobbled the books he was holding, nearly dropping the whole stack. Apparently embarrassed and fed up with being ignored, he cleared his throat pointedly. Unfortunately for Dr. Chilton, no one seemed to be paying attention.

“Will, I’d like you to meet my husband, Jack Crawford,” Bella said, gesturing to the tall, gruff man at her side and downright ignoring the BSHCI Director.

As soon as the caged men came into sight, Jack’s stare had locked onto Hannibal. However, at his wife’s introduction, he pulled his eyes away from the serial killer to nod at the omega in the cell instead. “It’s uh..very nice to meet you, Will,” he said.

“Anyway, he’s the reason I’m in this…thing today…,” Bella continued, tapping the wheelchair’s armrest with annoyance.

“He put you in a wheelchair?” Will snarled, surging toward Jack but stopping short of colliding with the impregnable glass. Will’s hands balled into fists, and his lip raised in disdain. Jack stepped back unconsciously, wary of the malevolent fury gleaming in Will’s eyes.

A loud, threatening growl left Will’s lips and reverberated around the cell. The sound, absolutely unheard of for an omega, took the group by surprise, including Hannibal. While Jack took a second involuntary step back, Hannibal bravely stepped forward, apparently captivated by the viciousness displayed. Though Will’s growl was designed to keep others at bay, Hannibal instead stepped closer, crowding Will against the glass until his chest was pressed against the omega’s back. Hannibal’s reassuring croon began immediately. Thankfully, it only took a few moments for Will to return to himself.

Will’s eyes closed as the tension left him, and he slumped heavily into Hannibal’s arms. With the ease of a man accustomed to hauling dead weight, Hannibal moved Will several steps away from the glass. He stayed behind Will, supporting him until the omega returned to a more rational state.

At first, Will was only aware of Hannibal’s warm arms and calming purr, but as the seconds passed, he heard sounds beyond the alpha’s safe embrace. Soon, the discordant noises became recognizable words, and he heard Jack say, “If anyone, Dr. Lecter is the one responsible for my wife’s current state.”

That brought Will up short. He glanced over his shoulder at Hannibal. The alpha raised an eyebrow and tilted his head with a knowing look. Will scowled and resisted the sudden urge to stick his tongue out at the other man. He quickly turned back to those in the hallway, cheeks tinted pink. Only then did he realize a concerned-looking Bella was trying to gain his attention. He took in Hannibal’s comforting scent for a moment more before stepping out of the man’s arms.

Bella straightened in the chair and crossed one leg primly over the other. The movement drew the group’s attention, and she didn’t hesitate to take advantage. “I’m in this chair today because Jack was worried I would tire myself out,” Bella stated unequivocally in a firm, clear voice. “But, I am stronger than I look,” she added, lifting her chin and glaring imperiously at her husband.

“I believe it,” Will said with conviction, overwhelmed by her commanding display. Still, his confusion remained. “So, what actually happened?” he asked, studying his friend for signs of injury. Even though Bella appeared unharmed, a sense of foreboding washed over Will, and he moved closer to Hannibal. Will felt more settled when close to the other man, and it was time he stopped denying it. When the alpha began purring again, a tension Will hadn’t noticed suddenly dissipated. Discomfort, it seemed, was no match for Hannibal’s rumble of safety and devotion.

Jack cleared his throat and spoke for the first time. “I believe I can answer that,” he said. “During Bella’s last visit, Dr. Lecter suspected an issue and insisted she see a doctor. Thanks to his timely intervention, Bella’s lung cancer was caught in time for her to have a real chance.” Jack cleared his throat again and addressed Hannibal, “I want to thank you, Dr. Lecter. Putting our history aside, I’m glad she had you to save her when I could not.”

No one acknowledged the disbelieving scoff nor the indignant sputtering from Dr. Chilton at the group's rear. The man thrived on drama.

Meanwhile, Hannibal accepted Jack’s gratitude with a gracious nod. “Of course, Jack,” he said. “Your wife is a lovely woman whose support and friendship have been invaluable to Will. Allowing such a bright light to grow dim would be a travesty.”

“Yes, well, it-” Jack began. He looked at the floor, his fist held in front of his mouth in contemplation. After a moment, he looked meaningfully at Will. “It makes me think of who else I haven’t been able to save and who could help me rescue them...”

Unfortunately for Jack, Will wasn’t paying attention to the leading statement. His brain had stalled out at the word cancer. Will moved closer to the glass, concern evident on his face. “Cancer?” he asked. “Bella, are you okay?”

“I’m getting there,” Bella said, her smile weary. “They managed to remove the tumors during surgery, but the follow-up chemotherapy has been anything but pleasant.” With a stifled groan, Bella braced herself against the armrests and pushed herself to her feet. The click of bright pink heels on the concrete floor echoed down the hall as she approached the partition. With each step, Will felt her commanding aura lessen until only his friend remained: unguarded and exhausted. “My doctor tells me I am not out of the woods yet, but, in truth, I am very lucky. I have both you and Dr. Lecter to thank,” she said.

“Don’t thank me. I didn’t even know about it until today,” Will said.

“Would you have remained silent if you had known?” Jack asked intently. His eyes were sharp and assessing as he studied Will.

“What? Of course not, but I am hardly the type of person who could suspect or diagnose cancer!” Will defended.

“And what if you found yourself in a unique situation where you did have the power and knowledge to save someone else? Would you just stand by and do nothing? What if they were dying?” Jack pressed, stepping closer to the glass. His alpha pheromones instinctively rose in potency, seeking to persuade or overpower the shorter omega.

The flow of subversive pheromones cut off abruptly when Bella turned sharply to her husband. “Jack! We talked about this,” she said crisply, warning evident in her tone. “Will is not one of your suspects!”

Jack scowled like a man who seldom accepted a reprimand with grace. “Am I not allowed to have a conversation?” he asked his wife, softening his glare at her raised brow. It appeared Will and Hannibal had been momentarily forgotten. On the other hand, Dr. Chilton was as necessary as the “g” in lasagna.

“Sure. Talk… ask. Don’t demand. Or guilt. Will doesn’t even know who you are to ask those questions,” Bella replied.

Before more could be said, Dr. Chilton erupted. “I refuse to tolerate this degrading treatment a moment longer!” he declared petulantly. “I am the Director of this facility, not a pack mule! I refuse to wait around to be acknowledged like a child.” He shoved the stack of books into Jack’s arms. “Have a nice day,” he snapped sarcastically, storming away without waiting for a reply.

“Uh,” Jack said, looking down at the books in his arms.

Completely ignoring Chilton’s disgraceful display, Bella smiled and said, “These are for you, Will.” She picked up the top book from the stack and turned it to show the title, The Power of Positive Dog Training. The second book on the stack was Decoding Your Dog, and the third was about the power of meditation. “I bought a few more on topics I thought might interest you. If not, I can exchange them for something else.”

“Thank you,” Will said sincerely.

Bella suddenly paled and swayed slightly on her feet. “Jack, help me back to the chair,” she whispered urgently to her husband. Quickly tucking the books under his arm, Jack accepted his wife’s extended hand. Steadying her with a calm surety, Jack gently guided her back to the wheelchair. Bella sat with a relieved sigh, “Thank you. Could you please send those through to Will?” she asked, indicating the books.

“Of course, dear,” Jack agreed. He complied silently, then returned to her side.

Hannibal retrieved the books, setting them neatly on the small metal table. He looked meaningfully over his shoulder at Will. “I believe Jack Crawford has something to ask you, Will,” he said loudly enough to be heard on both sides of the glass. Will sensed a meaning behind the man’s words. Closing his eyes, he focused his empathy intentionally. Will honed in on the surface of Jack’s mind. Hope, irritation, and a desperate need to make a difference jumped out at Will immediately. Such strong emotions could easily blind people to options beyond their preferred path. Despite his training and experience, Jack Crawford was a man easily deceived.

Jack, unaware of Will's mental eavesdropping, stepped forward. "Thank you, Dr. Lecter," he said. Bella cleared her throat pointedly, and Jack pinched the bridge of his nose between two fingers. "It appears I should listen to my wife more," he admitted reluctantly. When his hand fell, he was in control once again." I run the FBI's Behavioral Science Unit and could use your help, Will."

The omega frowned, unsure how he could possibly help. "I'm not sure I will be much help to the FBI," he said. Will glanced at Hannibal to gauge his reaction to the unexpected request, but Hannibal didn't appear surprised.

"You might be the break in the case I need," Jack said, preparing himself for a long-winded spiel. "I've been investigating omega disappearances for the past five years or so. You are the only trafficked omega we've been able to recover alive-"

“I wasn’t recovered, I escaped,” Will interjected. It was an important distinction. The clarification earned him a low chuckle from Hannibal at the choked face Jack made at being disrupted.

“Yes, well,” Jack said, more dismissively than he probably intended. “We know about the omega fighting ring and-”

“And how did you hear about that, Jack?” Hannibal asked crisply.

Will wondered if Jack was subject to apoplectic fits based on the faces he made at each interruption. Instead of answering the question, Jack glanced down the hallway in the direction Dr. Chilton had disappeared.

"Frederick," Hannibal growled. "He's never been accused of discretion. Perhaps I should instruct him on the meaning of the term."

Will glanced up at the numerous cameras focused on the cell, recording their actions and words for the casual perusal of the unscrupulous Dr. Chilton. Even though Will knew the cameras captured every moment of his life with Hannibal, the betrayal still stung. His secrets were not Dr. Chilton's to disclose to anyone, much less share the information with law enforcement.

Meanwhile, Jack was ready to pick up where he had left off. "Never mind that for now," he said preemptively. "I need you to be thinking about everything that happened while you were captive, Will. What did you learn or suspect of your captor?" Jack paced back and forth in front of the glass, ticking points off on his fingers. "I need you to describe everything in as much detail as possible. What conditions were you kept in? What did you see, hear, or smell? I need names. Locations-" Jack's eyes had taken on a manic glow, and his pheromones rose again, demanding compliance.

“Jack!” Bella snapped, unleashing a reprimanding tirade at her husband’s lack of tact.

Will was utterly taken aback by the request and watched, his mind racing, while Jack was thoroughly dressed down. Will had not told anyone more than the most basic facts about what happened to him, not Bella or even Hannibal. And Jack Crawford was the last person he wanted to tell. Will just wanted to forget. His initial shock was quickly being replaced by anxiety. What should he do?

Like an incoming tide, Hannibal's sharp scent of parchment and absinthe rose, drowning out Jack's scent, which demanded obedience. His alpha's calming purr started again, growing louder when Will leaned his head against Hannibal's shoulder. Hannibal nestled his cheek against Will's curls and wrapped an arm around his waist. "I'm here, Will," he whispered. "Tell him something small, so he will go away. This may work out to our advantage." Hannibal's words were quiet, too low to be overheard by either the microphones or visitors.

Still leaning against the alpha, Will frowned, considering Hannibal's suggestion. What should he tell Jack? Not Mason's name, never that. Nor any of his accomplices, as they might lead the FBI back to Mason. The future Hannibal had described, one splattered with blood, was still fresh in Will's mind. He already knew what it felt like to drive his fist into the flesh of another person, breaking bones and bruising organs beneath. Will was also familiar with the taste of blood as it oozed out of flesh held between tightly clamped teeth. In the fighting pit, Will's weapons were primarily his fists, feet, and teeth, but he was no stranger to the blade, both as a weapon to use and as a weapon used against him.

Will knew firsthand the fate of many of the missing omegas, as he had been the one to deliver it. Whether victorious or severely injured, Will would be dragged away and thrown into his room or another dark, out-of-the-way place. On rare occasions, he was forced to stand in the middle of a room while others partied around him. Sloppily spilling top-shelf liquor, they had studied him like a clockwork curiosity, not capable of feelings or dreams. They would laugh behind their hands at him and drink until their words came as readily as bile. Will was nothing more than amusing decor, they said, but still better than the "other one" who didn't win the fight. Then the drinking continued, and they laughed about throwing away a human being like garbage. Would Jack go away if Will proffered the little he knew?

Playing for time, Will made a show of pulling back from his alpha. "Thanks," Will told Hannibal, pretending to be bashful. He turned to those waiting in the hallway, his eyes down, but he occasionally glanced up at Jack's chin. "Hannibal is a big help…obviously," he added, acknowledging the interaction between alpha and omega they had all clearly witnessed. "I... I don't know much that could help you find others…" he began.

“That’s okay,” Jack interrupted. “Tell me what you can.” He leaned forward eagerly, like a child looking through the window of a toy shop.

“I d-don’t know who held me,” Will lied smoothly. “Or where we were.. exactly,” he added more truthfully, ”but I overheard what happened to some other omegas like me.” He glanced at Hannibal. The alpha’s face was impassive, but Will could see his eyes held in intensity, urging him to be cautious in what he revealed.

“Go on,” Jack encouraged, practically salivating. His eyes gleamed with a fervent light.

"I h-heard they were dumped off a bridge… into a ravine," Will said solemnly. He relayed what he had overheard as accurately as possible, including the road name and approximate area. The discovery was unlikely to lead to any arrests, but it would grant dignity to the victims and provide a sense of closure to their families.

"Victim recovery is important to our investigation, of course, and I thank you for the information-" Jack said, evidently disappointed. He trailed off before focusing determinately on Will, drops of sweat beading on his brow. "But what I really need is for you to tell me where surviving omegas are being held.” He stepped closer to the glass, though not within arm's reach. "You are the best resource I have to find them, so it's up to you to save them. Where are they?" he pressed.

During Jack's tirade, Will glanced at Hannibal, uncertain if he should provide additional information to the pushy FBI agent, but Hannibal's assessing gaze was fixed on the other alpha. "The person who had me also acquired other omegas from time to time, but they never lasted long," Will said slowly. "I don't know what happened to them."

Chuckling, Hannibal drew the agent’s attention away from Will. “Ah, Jack, more lives you couldn't save,” the serial killer needled, alluding to his own “crimes” that Jack had been unable to solve. “Does it gall?” Hannibal needled shrewdly.

Jack's lip curled in response to the taunting. Opposing pheromones flared, and low growls rumbled down the hall as each alpha attempted to intimidate the other. Will was inundated from both sides, the conflicting messages stirring his fight or flight response. Hannibal's scent encouraged confrontation, while Jack's demanded concession. Unfortunately for Jack, Will and Hannibal were intrinsically aligned. Shifting on his feet and tucking his chin against his chest, Will gave all the outward signs of a distressed omega, while inside, he reveled in the discordant instincts rippling through him. Will's muscles were taut beneath his skin, poised to attack with teeth, hands, and feet.

Bella smacked the wheelchair's armrest sharply. "Jack! Dr. Lecter! Enough! I expected more of both of you!" she said with a severe, disapproving look. Turning sharply toward her husband, she continued, “Jack, I reminded you before we arrived that Will is a survivor, not another one of your suspects! You are distressing an already traumatized omega, and I will not allow it to continue! It’s time for you to go.”

"But-" was all Jack managed before Bella pointed preemptively down the hall, toward the door to the secure prisoner's wing. Jack's head drooped in resignation, and he sighed. "Thank you very much for your time, Mr. Graham," he said formally, not looking at either man. After clearing his throat and straightening his tie, Jack Crawford walked away, a picture of defeat.

Will couldn't help but admire Bella's bravery, chastising her husband and a notorious serial killer without a second thought. Bella had long ago told him that her name was Phyllis, but she went by the pet name her husband called her. There was no doubt Bella was indeed beautiful. That her comeliness went beyond skin deep was a given, but Bella's beauty was unique because it transcended her emotions. She was equally lovely, whether overcome by great joy or sorrow. At that moment, Bella's face was relaxed, her eyes were closed, and she breathed deeply, evidently finding her equilibrium.

After the cell block door slammed, Bella sighed, opened her eyes, and pushed herself to her feet again. She seemed tired but retained her stately composure. "Will, I apologize for my husband's behavior. Dr. Bloom and I thought it might help your recovery if you had a chance to assist in the investigation of those who harmed you. Thankfully, Jack agreed to wait until I was strong enough to accompany him." Bella looked Will straight in the eyes. "I take responsibility for this going badly," she said.

The last thing Will wanted was for his friend to feel responsible for her husband's actions, especially when he was not genuinely distressed. On the other hand, it would benefit Hannibal and himself if Bella felt indebted to them. Where did his loyalty lie? It was an exhilarating game, and Will opted for deflection. "It's all just a little overwhelming," Will admitted truthfully. If he was referring to his unique connection with Hannibal instead of Jack's bullish behavior, no one needed to know but him. The pivot brought an unexpected sense of shame to Will, and he was reluctant to mislead his friend. Striking a balance between Bella and Hannibal seemed impossible. Where did his loyalty lie?

Hannibal moved closer to Will, responding to an invisible pull the way iron filings are drawn to a magnet. He didn't touch Will, though, waiting patiently until Will leaned into him. Only then did he wrap an arm around the omega's waist and pull Will back against his chest.

Feeling grounded again, Will focused on his friend to negate his conflicted feelings. When Bella closed her eyes and swayed slightly on her feet, Will grew concerned. "Bella, I'm fine. Please sit back down and relax," Will said, worried she might fall, especially in those pink pumps.

Just then, Barney came into view. “Mrs. Crawford, your husband asked me to be on hand if needed,” he said. Stopping short, Barney looked back and forth between the imprisoned men and the woman opposite them in the hallway. “Is there anything I can do for you, ma’am,” he asked, clearing his throat nervously.

"We're fine, Barney," Bella said, sitting herself in the wheelchair again with a sigh.

"Actually-" Will started hesitantly. He paused to look over his shoulder at Hannibal before asking, "I'd like to talk to Bella alone." At his back, Will felt Hannibal stiffen, and the arm around his waist tightened reflexively before the alpha let go and stepped away. Bella watched with a raised brow but didn't comment.

“Of course,” Barney agreed. “I’ll.. I’ll make the arrangements and be back soon,” the orderly added, hurrying off.

Will turned to study the alpha's impassive face, unsure what he was thinking. "I just have a couple of things I want to talk to her about," he explained, fidgeting nervously. "Sorry if it means you'll be..." he trailed off, not needing to go on when everyone in the hall could hear Barney gathering Hannibal's restraints and hand truck. The orderly would wait until armed security arrived before attempting to secure Hannibal.

Hannibal's expression turned fond, like a benevolent deity smiling down on a favored disciple. And Will did feel blessed by the man's attention. Even though the pair were close in height, Will felt every inch the alpha had on him. Then, shockingly, Hannibal averted his eyes to the floor and tilted his head to the side, a sign of submission that alphas only used when confronted by a stronger or more competent alpha. For this alpha to show such capitulation to an omega, to Will, was significant, especially coming on the heels of their intense discussion only a short while ago.

"Alpha?" Will whispered as a wave of Hannibal's pheromones washed over him. The look in Hannibal's garnet eyes was approving, while his scent was laced with a subtle warning, something only Will would pick up on. It reminded Will of a scenic overlook: breathtaking with a hint of danger. The combination of scent and color called to mind a carnivorous plant luring prey into its trap with strong-smelling nectar and intense coloration that mimicked a flower.

Will felt pinned by those garnet eyes, and his empathy flared, unfurling like a new leaf toward the sun. As it stretched towards Hannibal, he encountered a cracked door in the man's immense mind palace. At first contact, it appeared an oversight, as if Hannibal had simply forgotten to close the door, though Will knew the alpha would never be so careless. That meant the opening was intentional and intended only for Will.

Passing through the metaphorical door of Hannibal’s mind, Will entered a vast antechamber. The space was lit by candles and ringed with hallways, some shadowy and some brightly lit. Each hall stretched as far as the eye could see and was lined with closed doors leading to places unknown.

At first, Will was bewildered by the foreign mental landscape. Hannibal's mind palace was far more advanced than anything Will had yet developed. A dizzying mass of ideas, plans, and thoughts swirled around Will like drones in a beehive. Despite the volume, Will admired Hannibal's system for organizing and storing his mental musings.

A surprising number of the alpha's thoughts centered around Will himself. The compulsion to protect and support was expected, but Will also sensed other desires, more possessive and instinctual but carefully hidden from view. Still, it wasn't wholly unforeseen. In the past weeks, Hannibal seemed on the verge of saying something, opening his mouth before evidently having second thoughts. Despite wondering what Hannibal held back, Will could not uncover the alpha's secrets, not even from within the man's own mind.

Will wasn't resentful of Hannibal’s secrets, not when he was also holding back. Over the last month, Will had grown increasingly enamored with the alpha. He often lay in his nest and dreamed that they were mated. Abruptly, Will recognized that thought-sharing might be a two-way street. Had Hannibal picked up on his internal ramblings? An approving rumble answered that question, and a longing look flashed in Hannibal's garnet eyes.

Only then did Will realize Hannibal was still in a submissive pose. It was both uncomfortable and heady. How did one alpha accept the submission of another? Alpha secrets weren't common knowledge in the general population, but Will assumed it would involve a bite of some sort. As much as he trusted the other man, it probably wasn't a good idea to bite a known cannibal. Instead, Will rubbed his fingers over the unmarked bonding gland at this throat, covering it with a thin film of oils. He placed his hand over the exposed gland on Hannibal's throat, overlying the alpha's scent with his own. Instead of pulling his hand back immediately, Will's fingers lingered on Hannibal's skin, trailing up over the man's cheek until Will found himself tracing the alpha's lips. Hannibal straightened his head and growled lowly, a seductive tone Will had not heard since their kiss.

Though it felt as if he had lingered in Hannibal's mind for hours and extended the interaction further still with his scent marking, only moments had passed. Will was aware of Bella on the other side of the glass, watching the interaction intently but not speaking. Will had not drawn his empathy back into himself, and it told him Bella was gratified and… smug?

"Here we go," Barney said, arriving with Hannibal's restraints and flanked by guards. Will used the distraction to hastily retract his empathy. "If you'd put your hands behind your back and place them through here, I'd be much obliged, Dr. Lecter," the orderly continued, indicating the waist-high ventilation hole in front of him. His tone and demeanor were as professional and respectful as ever.

Hannibal complied with their orders silently, the very picture of composure. His eyes stayed on Will as he was secured to the hand truck. Will joined Bella in the hallway and took a position at her back, ready to push her wheelchair. At the entrance to the cell block, Matthew Brown leaned on the guard's desk, waiting to escort Will and Bella to a visitor's room. After a long, meaningful look at Hannibal, Will pushed his friend down the hall.

"Hi, Mr. Graham," Matthew greeted with a boyish grin as soon as Will and his seated companion reached him. "I'm so glad I made it in time," he added, trying to catch his breath. Matthew's cheeks were flushed, and Will could tell it was from exertion, not emotion. "I heard you were having visitors today, so I switched shifts with a co-worker and drove like mad to get here."

"I... I see," Will said, unsure what to make of Matthew's admission. He avoided eye contact with the orderly and wished he had brought his glasses, though he didn't anticipate needing them to chat with Bella.

Bella must have detected Will's reluctance as she spoke up just as Matthew opened his mouth. "Thank you so much for escorting us to the visitor's room. We'll let you lead the way." She graciously held out her arm, indicating that he should precede them.

Matthew wasn't deterred in the slightest. "Yes, ma'am," he said with a slight bob of the head. When they exited the elevator onto another floor, Matthew walked backward, keeping Will and Bella in sight until he banged his elbow sharply on a wall-mounted fire extinguisher. After that, Matthew faced forward but turned to look over his shoulder often. "Did you like those articles, Mr. Graham?" he asked. He plowed on without allowing Will to answer, "Just let me know if there is anything else I can do for you. I'll still take you to shave if you'd like. I don't know how much of a beard you prefer, but I like you no matter what."

By that time, they had arrived at the visitor's room. Will wasn't about to respond to the other alpha (even though a trim was definitely overdue), so Bella said, "What a generous offer. I'm sure Will will let you know. For now, we'd love a couple cups of coffee if you'd be so kind."

“Yes, yes, of course! I’ll be right back,” Matthew said, hurrying off without even opening the visiting room door for them.

“He’s… he’s certainly enthusiastic,” Bella said, watching the orderly rush off.

"Yeah, he's something," Will agreed, opening the door and turning Bella's wheelchair around to pull her backward through the door. Once inside the room, Will engaged the chair's brakes and stood aside, ready to assist Bella if necessary but allowing her to rise independently.

With a tired sigh, Bella lowered herself onto the sofa cushions and smiled when Will sat beside her. She reached forward and gripped one of Will's hands, squeezing reassuringly. "You look great, Will. You really do. Dr. Bloom has been keeping me apprised of your progress, and I have to say I am most pleased."

“Thank you. Hannibal has been a big help, and I can tell how far I’ve come,” Will admitted. His cheeks had flushed when he mentioned Hannibal. He cleared his throat and smiled at Bella, squeezing her hand in return before pulling back.

Bella’s smile changed from pleased to knowing. “I don’t need your abilities to sense there is something you’d like to talk about,” she said, raising her eyebrows several times cheekily.

Will blushed again at the implication but knew Bella would never betray his confidence, not even to her husband. Still, something inside urged caution, so Will talked about his life at the BSHCI with Hannibal. He noted his increasing closeness to the other man but didn't disclose his growing certainty that they were made for each other. Instead, he changed topics to the goals he was still working on and what more he wanted to achieve.

There was a knock at the visiting room door before Matthew entered carrying two paper cups of coffee. "I made this one just the way you like it, Mr. Graham," he said, handing one of the cups to Will. Matthew must have gained that information from watching security footage of Hannibal's cell. Next, he pulled a container of powdered creamer and sugar packets from his lab coat pockets and set them on the low table by the couch. "I brought these for you," he said to Bella, handing the second steaming cup to her.

“Thank you,” Bella said, taking the cup and sipping the hot brew before adding sugar.

“I’ll be at the nurse’s station down the hall. If you need anything, all you have to do is open the door, and I’ll come right away,” he said, backing out of the room.

“I think he’s smitten with you,” Bella noted as she settled back into the couch with the cup of coffee.

"I guess so," Will said, looking toward the closed door, almost expecting Matthew to still be there. "I think he has good intentions, however misguided," Will said.

Bella pursed her lips consideringly. “Maybe he just sees what we all do: that you are an attractive and kind person.”

Will groaned and slumped back against the cushion, his face tilted toward the ceiling and his eyes closed. “Don’t tell me you’re been taken in by my charms,” he lamented.

The snort his comment earned in response was the opposite of ladylike. “I’m not sure charming is the word I would use,” Bella said, her face amused though thoughtful. “More like… appealing.”

“You really know how to kick a man when he’s down,” Will griped. “All the more cruel to do it in those heels,” Will said, motioning to her bright pink pumps.

Bella flipped her hair over her shoulder and fixed Will with a level stare. “There’s no need to bring my shoes into this,” she replied haughtily.

Will laughed, loud and unrestrained. "I've missed you, Bella," he said, still smiling. The last time Will laughed so hard was when he and Hannibal imagined Dr. Chilton stoned. Besides Hannibal, Bella was the only person he felt completely comfortable with. He liked Barney and some of the guards, but he had a true friend in Bella.

"I missed you too, Will. You and your 'charms,'" Bella added with a grin before turning serious. "I'm not the only one who has noticed your appeal. How do you feel about Matthew? As much as you might wish to hide away from the world, unmated omegas always encounter a fair amount of attention. Here, your exposure is limited, and you have Hannibal's protection, but if Matthew makes you uncomfortable, I'll make sure Dr. Chilton reassigns him."

"I've actually talked to Hannibal about Matthew a few times. I get the feeling there is some alpha by-play between the two that I haven't picked up on, but-" Will began. He paused for several moments, and Bella allowed him the time he needed, sipping her coffee without comment and waiting patiently for him to continue. Will thought about Hannibal and his conversation before Jack and Bella's arrival. Hannibal had talked about escape and their possible future. Part of that involved Will ingratiating himself with Matthew. This might be his first opportunity to lay some groundwork for Bella so he said, "Matthew has been friendly and solicitous. He listens when I talk and has offered to do things for me, like letting me trim this beard or walk outside on the grounds."

Bella seemed pleased. "I'm happy to see you opening yourself up to the possibility of friendship with someone new. You were so guarded when we met, understandably so. I am delighted with your progress!" Changing the subject, she asked, "Now, tell me about your appetite. Any food requests?" As smoothly as that, they were talking about cuisine, more weighty topics left behind.

When they finished, Bella returned to the wheelchair and checked her phone. "Jack is still waiting in the lobby," she said, sliding the device into her purse. "Would you like me to accompany you back to Hannibal's cell?" she asked.

Will shook his head. "No, you go ahead. I'm sure Matthew will be happy to show me the way." He opened the visitor's room door, and just as promised, Matthew appeared moments later.

“Did you have a nice chat?” the nurse asked, a boyish grin on his face.

"Yes, we did," Bella answered. She turned to Will and held her arms out. After hesitating, Will stooped down to hug his friend, briefly pressing his cheek against hers. "I have chemo at the beginning of next week and will be ill for a few days afterward. If it's alright with you, I'll come on Monday the week following. I could ask Dr. Bloom to come next week if you'd like."

"No, since you're back, I'll wait for you," Will said quickly. Dr. Bloom was an acceptable therapist but lacked proper depth and warmth. The friends said goodbye, and Bella wheeled herself to the lobby, declining Matthew's assistance.

When the two men stood alone in the hall, Matthew looked at Will. “Do you still want to shave?” he asked.

Will pondered the question for a moment. He wanted to get back to Hannibal, certain the man was still restrained and would remain that way until he returned. However, something told him not to lose the opportunity to spend more time with Matthew. "Yes, that would be nice," he said, raising his eyes to meet the alpha's and forcing a smile.

"Great!" Matthew said, apparently surprised by Will's acquiescence. Taking Will's elbow, Matthew guided him down the hall. "This way, Mr. Graham. Everyone from this ward is in the cafeteria, so the bathroom is clear." Matthew retrieved a set of hair clippers from a locked closet and led Will to the men's restroom. The bathroom had an open doorway, but a degree of privacy was ensured by the design of the space. The room had several urinals and toilets with doors that closed but did not lock. There were also three shower areas separated by plastic shower curtains.

Will approached one of the sinks but froze when he saw his reflection in the mirror. He had not seen himself since he first arrived at the hospital after escaping Mason's clutches. The man that had stared back at him then was gaunt and bruised with haunted eyes. The man, who gazed back at him in the bathroom of the BSHCI, seemed like a different person. His cheeks had filled out as he returned to a healthy weight. His skin glowed, no longer dry and dull, and his eyes sparkled with hope for the future.

Also, his beard was long… too long. His top lip was obscured by hair, and the whiskers on his chin, never before fast-growing, had grown into a ragged and asymmetrical shape. At least he could fix that.

Matthew handed him the hair clippers and stood back while Will fiddled with them until he was happy with the length. Flipping the switch, Will maneuvered the clippers over his cheeks, under his chin, and along his upper lip. The hair fell away, like pieces of eggshell, revealing the man underneath. When he finished, he rinsed his face and used a towel Matthew handed him. Looking in the mirror again, Will felt reborn. It was hard to describe, but he felt ready for the next phase in his life. Will wanted to spend it by Hannibal's side. It was time to stop denying it: he wanted Hannibal in every way. He wanted to stand by his side, protect his back, exact revenge alongside him, and be his mate. There was no doubt in Will's mind that Hannibal was capable of escaping, and though the alpha's plans hadn't yet been laid out in all its facets, Will was committed to doing his part to make the words Hannibal whispered of their future a reality.

Turning to Matthew, Will purposefully looked down and scuffed his shoe against the linoleum floor, affecting a bashful appearance. He glanced up at the other man several times, giving the impression of nervousness, before asking, “How do I look?”

"Beautiful!" Matthew blurted almost instantly. Will wondered if Matthew had repressed the exclamation until Will allowed him to set it free. "I mean… well, I meant it. You are a beautiful person, Mr. Graham."

Glancing down, Will bit his lip and then looked at Matthew from under his curls. The alpha's enamored expression was precisely what Will was hoping for. "Thank you," Will said. "I think it's time you stopped calling me Mr. Graham. Call me Will."

Matthew closed his eyes. "Will," he said, appearing to savor the name like a fine wine on his tongue. He seemed so elated that Will wouldn't be surprised if he floated away.

Will's skin crawled at the sound. Only his alpha should ever say his name with such admiration. He gritted his teeth and hoped it looked like a smile. Just then, the speaker built into the ceiling crackled to life. "Code Gray. I repeat, Code Gray. All trained personnel report to the cafeteria," a woman's nasally voice, edged with panic, echoed around the empty room.

"I've got to go," Matthew said, looking at the bathroom entrance. He took a couple steps to leave, then glanced back at Will. "Come on, I'll walk you to the elevator," he said.

Will hurried to accompany him. When he reached the elevator, Matthew used his key to call the elevator to their floor. He chewed a thumbnail nervously while he waited and glanced back and forth between Will and somewhere further down the hall, presumably in the direction of the cafeteria. Several other staff members, all large alphas, rushed past them. When the elevator opened, Will stepped inside and didn’t object when Matthew leaned in to push the button for the secure patient’s wing. “I’ll see you later, Will,” he said. Matthew stayed in the hallway until the elevator doors closed.

When they opened again several moments later, Will was greeted with the familiar hall leading to Hannibal/s cell. There had been a flurry of activity on the upper floor, but there was hardly any movement from the inmates. An armed guard opened the barred door and allowed Will to pass through. His first sight of Hannibal, still strapped to the hand truck, made his heart jump. It appeared the alpha was involved in a deep discussion with Barney, but he cut off abruptly when Will came into view.

"Oh, you're back, Will," Barney said jovially. He pulled a radio from his waistband and called for assistance. Footsteps in the hall foretold the guard's imminent arrival. Motioning for Will and the guards to enter the cell, Barney waited until his backup was in place and Will was safely out of the way before untying the straps that secured Hannibal to the hand truck. "I'll just get out of your way here," the orderly said, taking the wheeled conveyance away. He was followed moments later by the guards who backed out of the cell, the customary rifle and mace leveled at Hannibal until the door was locked.

Will didn't notice the guards leave; he only saw his alpha. "Hannibal," he said, eyes fixed on the man wearing the straitjacket and bite mask. Quickly, Will removed the items and pushed them through to Barney, who waited in the hall. The orderly's departure went unnoticed by either man.

Hannibal had not moved from his place, and his stare remained fixed on Will. Will felt weighed down by that gaze. When Hannibal’s hand touched his cheek, Will jumped. He had not noticed the alpha’s unobtrusive movement. Hannibal rubbed Will’s shorn cheek.

"Do you like it?" Will asked. He had seen Hannibal in various stages of beard growth. The calendar and Dr. Chilton's capricious moods determined the alpha's access to a razor. On the other hand, Hannibal had only seen Will with a beard and a longer beard. He had never seen Will with the close-cropped style he currently wore, closer to stubble than anything else.

Drawing Will closer, Hannibal lifted his second hand to put it on Will’s other cheek. “You are exquisite, my Will,” he whispered.

Cheeks instantly reddening, Will looked at Hannibal. Based on his experience with Mason, Will never wanted to belong to anyone again. However, Hannibal, referring to him as "my Will," had the opposite reaction. Never before had a possessive proclamation been so alluring. "Alpha," Will said, almost mesmerized by the other man's perceptive gaze. "Tell me your design," he said.

Hannibal's smile was sharp and knowing. He put an arm around Will and guided him to the nest, laying down first and pulling the omega beside him. With quiet words and a calm surety, Hannibal detailed his plans. Will listened in rapt attention, the words weaving around him like a cocoon. At some point, Will realized his head was resting on Hannibal's chest. It felt right. Cuddling close, he let the words and the intention behind them sink into his skin, his brain, his ears, his empathy, and his heart.

🔪🔪

Chapter Text

That evening, after lights out, Will cuddled quietly with Hannibal in their nest. The alpha was settled on his back with Will draped partially over him. Will pressed his face into Hannibal's neck until his lips brushed the tender skin beneath the older man's ear. To anyone watching, Will appeared to be asleep, but he was, in fact, pulling in deep drags of Hannibal's pleasing fragrance. With each inhalation, the scent penetrated further into Will's psyche until it reached an area ripe with primal instincts. The pheromones beckoned to a deeply buried part of Will's soul, which had long been waiting to make itself known.

Outwardly, the alpha appeared at ease, with eyes closed, and his face turned toward Will. The fingers of Hannibal's free hand combed through Will's curls repeatedly in a gesture that was part caress and part massage. A casual observer would likely assume the brushing motions were intended to soothe. However, Hannibal's movements, though enjoyable, were actually a ploy to obscure his lips as he whispered to Will.

"I've devoted considerable thought to expanding our accommodations. Although vexing Frederick has been amusing, he is far from a gracious host. We are currently limited by the confines of these four walls, but outside, the possibilities are endless. We can take our dreams of the future and make them into our reality. Tell me, Will, are you ready to rejoin the world?" Hannibal asked in a hushed tone that would be inaudible if caught by the microphones.

Hannibal's old-world accent was more prominent when whispering, and Will couldn't help but be charmed. A moment later, he scolded himself for being distracted by pretty words. Will forced himself to consider the alpha's proposal. Since he wasn’t a prisoner, he had never seriously considered escaping, but he had fantasized about spending time with Hannibal outside the cell.

On its face, breaking out seemed like an excellent idea. Despite the dangers Hannibal posed to the general public, Will didn't reject the idea out of hand. Subconsciously, he wanted to support the alpha's plans. Perhaps more information would help him make up his mind. "I suppose, but how do we get out of this cell?" he asked.

"I allowed my attorney to petition the court for recreational time, something it has amused Frederick to deny me. Mr. Kenner advised in his last letter that the judge has granted my request," Hannibal said. "Frederick must now provide suitable recreational accommodations, and I expect them to be ghastly," Hannibal confided with a low chuckle. "After all, Frederick does enjoy his little tortures."

"I don't see how that will help. I doubt Dr. Chilton will relax his security protocols," Will said, frowning against Hannibal’s neck.

“He doesn’t have to. The chink in his armor is me out of my cell. When I am transferred from one restraint into another, there is a moment of weakness I can easily capitalize on.”

“What about the locked doors and guards?” Will asked, pointing out the obvious unhelpfully.

"I have accounted for that and believe I have devised a workable plan. Success is in the planning, after all," Hannibal said without a hint of modesty.

"It sounds like you have it all figured out," Will grumbled. "I guess you don't need me around," he added flippantly, but Hannibal took his words at face value.

"You’re right. In fact, I intend you to leave this place and continue your recovery outside the hospital," Hannibal said, shocking Will to his core. Will tensed, but Hannibal didn’t seem to notice as he continued. "You will do well in the care of another alpha,” Hannibal said as if he wasn’t causing Will’s world to collapse. “You will still be permitted to visit me regularly for emotional support," the alpha added.

In the face of such devastating news, Will could no longer feign sleep. He pulled out of the alpha's arms but couldn't bring himself to move further away, so he stayed close, sharing a pillow and studying the other man's profile until Hannibal rolled to face him, their faces only inches apart. "You're sending me away?" Will asked brokenly, wishing he could disappear. His eyes stung, and he looked away, refusing to allow tears to pool in his eyes. A mix of grief and indignation tangled in his throat like brambles, making it difficult to speak. A whimper managed to escape, though, and Will cursed himself for being weak.

"Never! Will, do you hear me? Never," Hannibal responded emphatically. He pressed his forehead tenderly against Will's and crooned reassuringly when the omega’s scent took on the bitter undertones of distress. "I ask that you trust me, Will. This is part of my design.”

Those words resonated profoundly with Will, and he met Hannibal's eyes with a slight nod.

Hannibal continued, speaking more cautiously than before. "Ideally, you will remain connected to the hospital in more ways than one. I believe Matthew would be the best choice for this, don't you?"

"Matthew? How does he play into this?" Will asked, surprised Hannibal would rely on Matthew for anything, given the tension between the two alphas.

"Matthew's infatuation with you is the linchpin to my plan," Hannibal revealed. "His eagerness can be molded to our advantage. You must allow him to believe you return his interest."

Will made a quiet sound of discomfort and shifted restlessly against Hannibal, uneasy at the suggestion of feigning feelings for another alpha. "I don't know, Hannibal. Are you sure?" Will asked.

"Yes, though it galls me to my core. Matthew sees you as someone he can protect, and we must capitalize on that. Acting helpless and shy will draw him closer. Ask for his counsel on small things, appear unsure but trusting of his advice," Hannibal said. "I will do my best to appear uninterested in these conversations. Spend time with him when you can. Mention that you want to leave but will still need a support alpha for a time, and you worry about starting over with a stranger.

"We can speak to Bella or Dr. Bloom about transferring you into Matthew's care, as I'm sure he will rush to become a certified support alpha after speaking with you," Hannibal chuckled before continuing.

"Once you are ensconced in Matthew's home, you must utilize those skills that kept you alive for so long. Matthew's trust and indulgence will allow you to set our plans in motion and smuggle in the items I need to escape," Hannibal said.

"Like what?" Will asked, imagining sneaking in a plasma cutter or crowbar. He wished he understood more but would not use his empathy to read Hannibal at that moment. They both deserved the privacy of their minds, and Will felt adrift.

Hannibal responded to Will's state by releasing waves of his scent. "Do not worry about the specifics right now," he soothed. “I will know more when Frederick reveals his plans for me, but know this: I will keep you safe and help you exact revenge on those who have hurt you. Afterward, we will have many options, but I long to show you my childhood home in Lithuania and tour the wondrous sights of the old world. My wealth is vast and could easily sustain us in luxury for several lifetimes."

Will desperately wanted that future for them both, and although he was coming to terms with his own motivations, he was still unclear on Hannibal's. Anyone could see that Hannibal was devoted to Will. Most would assume it was due to his Support Alpha duty, but Will knew there was more. After years of relinquishing his freedom, Hannibal was driven to escape, not for himself but for Will, and Will needed to understand why. There were many questions to which he one day hoped to learn the answers, yet a single question exceeded all others.

Despite the ongoing rollercoaster ride of emotions, it was time to ask.

Though Will usually avoided eye contact, he looked straight into Hannibal's eyes, focusing all his senses to discern the truth. "Why are you planning all of this for me, Hannibal?" Will asked with quiet determination.

Hannibal chuckled at the question, and Will's heart dropped until he realized the laugh was nervous rather than amused. "Will," Hannibal said his name like it was something precious. "Have you not figured it out by now?" he asked, his garnet eyes fond and tender.

Will bit his lip, stopping himself from speaking and concentrating intently.

"Close your eyes, Will," Hannibal coaxed. "Wade into the quiet of the stream. Seek the deepest part of yourself and listen to what it tells you."

Will swallowed apprehensively. He has avoided examining those feelings, unprepared for the realities he might find. However, in that moment, as he gazed into Hannibal's compelling eyes, Will was finally ready to embrace his fate. Closing his eyes obediently, Will quieted his mind. As inconspicuous as a shadow, Will slipped through the layers of his own psyche, diving deeper until he found a place of certainty. The answer had always been inside Will, but he wasn't ready to see it until then.

With a gasp, Will opened his eyes, grateful to be lying down lest he swoon. Hannibal was still there, of course, an enduring rock he could rely on in the middle of a raging river. Slowly, Will returned to himself, the truth becoming more apparent with each passing moment. But, some essential element was still missing: the answer to the riddle dancing on the tip of his tongue. Locking eyes with Hannibal, everything cleared, and Will recognized him for the first time. "Alpha," Will breathed, his voice and face filled with wonder.

"My omega," Hannibal purred, his lips curling in a coy smile. "Do you see me?" he asked.

Will cupped Hannibal's cheek and smiled. "Yes, Alpha, I see you now," he said. They stared at each other without speaking for a long time. Will was utterly overcome by the strength of his feelings, now recognized.

Eventually, the alpha shifted, moving until he leaned over the omega with his weight supported by an arm. Fate, a force as inescapable as gravity, had pulled Will and Hannibal together, and their lips were likewise drawn together. The experience was more profound than their previous kiss, as both recognized the attraction and responded to it with ardor. For Will, it was his first chance to express weeks of restrained longing. Hannibal, on the other hand, savored the satisfaction of an objective achieved.

Will didn't know that level of instant passion was possible. A mix of excitement, lust, and devotion flooded his mind, and Will couldn't tell whether the feelings were his or Hannibal's. At the same time, Will's body was completely overwhelmed, melting at the heat between their lips. The alpha's scent was intoxicating; its intense sandalwood and iron fragrance surrounded Will, driving his thrill to greater heights. Hannibal's scent intensified, especially when he peppered kisses over Will's face and rubbed his cheek against Will's.

The alpha's tongue found its way to Will's lips so naturally, and Will allowing that tongue entrance to his mouth felt natural, too. Hannibal breathed loudly through his nose but didn't stop to take a breath; he seemed hesitant to break their kiss or interrupt what he was doing. Will felt like the kiss was both completely new and absolutely familiar. It was like they had been kissing that way for years.

Much to his surprise, Will realized he was whining and had no desire to stop. He writhed shamelessly on the nest beneath Hannibal's looming figure. He couldn't blame his whimpers and impatience on a heat, but he desperately wanted more, more kisses, more touching, more Hannibal. The alpha hungrily devoured every one of Will's moans.

Feeling practically breathless from kisses, Will felt Hannibal move to lie on top of him, the man's weight pressing him into the nest. Will sank his fingers into Hannibal's hair. The strands were soft and delicate, two traits that did not apply to the alpha's character at all. Will gripped Hannibal's hair tightly between his fingers, and the alpha responded by pressing his body harder against the omega's, only stopping when Will let out an obscene groan. A fire must have been stoked within the alpha at that sound as Hannibal proceeded to prove that seduce was indeed a verb.

Will lost track of his surroundings. The prison cell, the glass wall, and the security cameras faded into the background. His eyes were closed, and he couldn't open them, even if he wanted to. He was overwhelmed by the pleasure of Hannibal's lips. A thumping sound caught Will's attention momentarily. It was his own pulse pounding in his ears. Or was that Hannibal's heartbeat? The answer wasn't important because he felt as if his very essence was being devoured by hungry kisses.

Hannibal clung to Will so firmly that the omega felt he couldn't move. Even his head was immobilized by Hannibal's possessive and ardent kisses. The alpha's hands began to drift over his partner's body as his tongue continued to caress the inside of the omega's lips. Will felt a dampness at his entrance, and then the first trickle of slick emerged to drip down his crack and be absorbed by his boxers. The feeling was both exciting and uncomfortable, and he shifted his hips from side to side, rubbing against the alpha's prominent erection and making the man growl lowly in pleasure.

Hannibal's lips left Will's but returned quickly, this time sucking marks into Will's neck. With a growl, Hannibal pried Will's hands from his hair and pressed them into the mattress above his head. An instant later, the alpha's teeth sunk into the flesh of Will's neck. Will stiffened instinctually, but Hannibal's bite didn't break the skin and was placed too high to puncture the omega's mating gland. Will couldn't help but feel disappointed, even if his logical mind would advise against bonding without serious thought. But Will's logical side was nowhere to be found. "Alpha, make me yours," he begged, his eyes desperate.

Hannibal was deeply affected by the plea but managed to maintain control, if only just. “You’re mine. You belong to me and always have, bite or not,” Hannibal rasped. He bit Will sharply on the other side of his neck, creating a twin bruise on the opposite side of Will’s throat. “Say it. Say you’re mine,” the alpha demanded fervidly.

"I'm yours," Will gasped, the words coming to his lips without hesitation. "I'm all yours, and you're all mine."

“You’re damn right I am,” Hannibal growled.

Will had never felt so seen or so wholly claimed. Spreading his legs, he released the most wanton, embarrassing sound he had ever made. It was akin to a squeak and practically demanded more from the alpha. Will felt like a shameless hussy, hating himself for the humiliating action, but he didn’t regret their situation.

Will was exactly where he wanted to be: beneath Hannibal and rubbing himself against the alpha's body. Hannibal took advantage of the opportunity to lie between Will's open thighs. The position allowed their erections to grind against each other through their prison jumpsuits. The posture also kept Will pinned, not that he desired to be elsewhere. Will moaned again when Hannibal licked the place he had just bitten and blew hot air across his skin.

At some point, Hannibal unzipped Will’s prison jumpsuit and stuck his hand inside, his fingers slipping beneath the waistband of Will’s boxers. Will let out deep, panting breaths as Hannibal massaged his hip. The alpha listened to his increasing moans and continued to lick and suckle Will’s collarbone. Eventually, Hannibal sat up on his knees, clearly ready for more. He helped Will sit, then pushed the jumpsuit off the omega’s shoulders before easing him back down to the pillows. With a growl, the alpha pulled the jumpsuit the rest of the way off, exposing more of Will’s form to his hungry gaze. Will shivered when cool air met his thighs.

Will was enjoying his position immensely, but despite his omegan nature, he had no desire to be wholly dominated in bed. Hannibal had hiked up Will's shirt to trace the scars on his stomach. Will took advantage of the alpha's distraction to wrap his legs around Hannibal's back and grip his upper arms in a firm grip. After gathering his strength, Will flipped Hannibal onto his back, an impressive feat given the narrowness of prison cots.

From his new vantage, Will sat on Hannibal’s hips and studied the man’s face. The memory of Hannibal’s shocked expression would stay with Will forever, but the move had worked as intended. Hannibal ceased being so rough and controlling. Instead, his garnet eyes turned hazy. His hair was even more disheveled, and his lips were wet from saliva. Hannibal panted through his open mouth, but when he put his hands on Will’s hips, the touch was gentle. He looked good… right, cradled in Will’s nest, in the nest this alpha had built for him.

Will couldn't stop staring. He couldn't believe what they were doing, what he wanted to do. The tension, sexual and otherwise, had been growing between the pair, and it wasn't something they could continue to ignore. The hows and whys didn't matter to Will at that moment. All he knew was that he wanted to kiss the alpha again. Hannibal must have felt the same way because his eyes dropped to Will's lips, and he shuddered with evident desire.

They rushed at each other, crushing their bodies together in another passionate kiss. Desire was conveyed with every moan, every caress. Hannibal wrapped his arms around Will tightly as Will sank his fingers into the alpha's hair again. Will found himself mindlessly rubbing himself against his partner. During a brief separation of their mouths, Hannibal removed Will's shirt, and Will unzipped the man's jumpsuit.

Will never would have guessed this sensual, passionate side lurked beneath the alpha's polished and sophisticated exterior. There was more to Hannibal Lecter than Will had seen so far, but he appreciated the alpha's willingness to be open with his nature and desires.

Hannibal ran reverent hands down Will's naked back, then around his sides and up his chest. He paused over Will's nipples, rubbing the sensitive peaks with the pads of his thumbs. "H-Hannibal," Will groaned wantonly, momentarily unashamed at how wrecked his voice sounded. He must have been moaning more than he realized. Will would love to hear Hannibal say his name, but the alpha was quiet so far, beyond the occasional grunt or harsh breathing. Still, Hannibal kissed Will over and over again, as if each was the most profound kiss of his life as if his very life depended on it.

Will needed a break from such overwhelming passion and a moment to clear his head. It was more challenging to stop kissing the man beneath him than he anticipated. With a pop, Will forcibly pulled his lips away, and he lay on top of Hannibal, gasping. Will thought he saw a flash of disappointment in Hannibal's garnet eyes, but it was gone almost the same instant, and Will thought it must have been his imagination.

Hannibal wrapped an arm tightly around Will as if worried the omega might flee. With his free hand, Hannibal caressed Will's cheek. Soon, those fingers traced Will’s lips, so he parted them and welcomed two slender digits into the warm cavity of his mouth. The fingers danced over Will's tongue, and he lavished them with attention, covering them copiously in saliva.

It was hard to see all of Hannibal's features in the semi-dark, but his eyes were fixed on Will's face as the omega eagerly lapped at and sucked his fingers. The arm holding Will in place loosened, and the alpha traced a light touch up and down his spine. Each time his hand encountered the waistband of Will's boxers, Hannibal pushed them further down until his rear end was exposed, and the head of his erection emerged from the front.

Will longed for more of Hannibal's intoxicating kisses, so he leaned down and felt the alpha's tongue pass between his lips to join his fingers inside Will's mouth. No one else had ever kissed Will so thoroughly. He felt at once worshiped and owned. With one hand, Will pushed up the alpha's undershirt and ran his fingers through the older man's chest hair. He looped his other arm around the alpha's neck and moaned into his mouth.

That action must have aroused Hannibal even more because he swiftly pulled his fingers from Will's mouth to trace his slick-drenched entrance instead. Will tensed and hissed, not expecting such a sudden progression of intimacy. Still, the action was not unwanted. In fact, it was just the opposite. Hannibal let out a raspy croon, calming Will's worried, racing mind.

When Will relaxed, so did his body, and Hannibal could gently press a wet finger inside. He worked his finger slowly in and out of Will, watching Will's face intently, though Will wasn't aware of much beyond the heat of his body and the pleasure from the alpha's ministrations. The alpha added a second finger, pushing it inside Will's heat alongside the first. Hannibal continued to fuck Will with his fingers, pausing occasionally to scissor and stretch the omega's opening. When he rubbed Will's prostate, the younger man sat up slightly and opened his eyes to look at Hannibal with a moan. Hannibal trembled beneath him at the sight, and Will loved the proof that this reserved man could feel such pleasure and anticipation, too.

Unable to remain upright under the onslaught of bliss, Will collapsed onto Hannibal's chest. He attempted to suppress the sounds that left his mouth whenever Hannibal's fingers found his prostate but was unsuccessful in doing more than rolling his eyes in ecstasy and moving his hips more firmly into the internal caress. Hannibal's movements were driving Will crazy. It was too much and not nearly enough at once. Will wanted more, wanted Hannibal.

Reaching behind himself, Will freed Hannibal's erection from his boxers. The alpha was still fully dressed, but his jumpsuit was unzipped to his crotch, his undershirt was rucked up to his armpits, and his boxers were shoved down to expose his genitals.

Hannibal's mouth fell open when Will gripped his length. He was larger than any alpha Will had encountered as a fumbling teen. The angle was awkward, but Will pumped his hand slowly up and down, loving the feel of Hannibal's girth and wondering how it would feel inside him. Hannibal could no longer stay silent. A throaty groan left the proud alpha's mouth, and Will knew he would never forget how his body tingled at that sound.

Hannibal gently removed his fingers from Will's body and grabbed his hand instead, stilling Will's pumping motions. The alpha's kisses changed similarly: from demanding and heated to loving and tender. In another situation, Will would love to spend an extended time exploring such fond emotions, but at that moment, Will needed more. So far, they had experienced the equivalent of an appetizer, and he was ready for the main course.

Will's rational mind was on vacation, leaving his more primitive omegan side in control, and it was focused on mating with his powerful, protective, and brilliant alpha. He needed to feel him, his alpha that perfectly complemented his omega. Raising his hips, Will brought the tip of Hannibal's cock to his slick entrance.

Hannibal gasped with concern. "Will, slowly," he cautioned, gently massaging the omega's back, but Will was determined and no longer willing to wait. He gripped the alpha's cock more tightly and pushed the tip against his entrance, searching for that elusive connection.

Hannibal tried to help again, directing Will's fingers and finding the right angle. Bearing down, Will lowered his body until the tip of Hannibal's erection was inside him. The stretch was intense. Will froze, squeezing his eyes shut and gritting his teeth in discomfort. Hannibal purred and released more of his iron and absinthe scent to ground and relax his partner.

Soon, Will's internal muscles relaxed, allowing him to squat more upright. He experimented with shallow motions until he became impatient and fully impaled himself on Hannibal's length. Will's strained moan was only matched by his alpha's pleasured one. Other inmates on the ward took advantage of the sounds to let out quiet groans of their own, driven to self-stimulation by the performance, whether witnessed or imagined.

Hannibal tilted his head back against the pillow and closed his eyes. Breathing deeply, he fought to maintain control. Will gazed down at him with hazy blue eyes, unable to look away from the sight of the alpha's pleasure. Ignoring his own slight discomfort, Will focused on Hannibal, rocking his hips and running his fingers through the alpha's chest hair.

After several seconds, Hannibal's eyes opened, and he beheld Will with the wonder of a worshiper gazing upon god. Hannibal put a hand on Will's cheek and guided him closer, kissing him languidly while he bent his knees and settled his hands at Will's waist. Hannibal trailed kisses across Will's cheek to the hinge of his jaw, where he nibbled lightly.

Without warning, Hannibal began thrusting deeply into Will, finding a steady rhythm that was pleasing to them both. Meanwhile, he sucked the tender skin beneath the omega's ear until a bruise formed and kneaded the pert ass that he could see bouncing over Will's shoulder. Hannibal kept a slow and soft pace at first, but when Will whined, his next thrust was sharper, quicker. Will cried out wantonly when the alpha's cock brushed over his prostate, and he clung tightly to Hannibal as the alpha's pace increased. Pleasure heightened as Hannibal found the right angle to stimulate Will's prostate with almost every thrust. Will's own neglected cock twitched impatiently between their stomachs, but Will was overwhelmed with pleasure and never wanted it to end.

The friction must have also been perfect for the alpha because he went from mostly silent to groaning with every plunge. Hannibal's unmistakable pleasure boosted the omega's confidence, and he experimented with circling his hips as Hannibal plunged into him, gaining a growl of approval for the man beneath him. Concerns that they were being recorded didn't enter Will's mind as he and his true mate sought to become one.

Despite being naked and on top, Will was splattered by a combination of sweat, slick, and saliva. Hannibal was equally sticky and covered with fluids, but neither noticed the mess in the heat of the moment. Groans and whimpers bounced off the walls and echoed down the corridor. The smell of sex and slick filled the room and leaked out through the air holes, bringing forth appreciative rumbles and murmurs from alphas in surrounding cells.

Hannibal pushed Will into an upright position and dug his heels into the bedding for leverage to thrust into Will, sharp and quick. Hands at Will's waist guided him up and down on Hannibal's proud cock. Will wasn't much help at that point, his head thrown back in an almost-continuous moan.

"Touch yourself," Hannibal requested, watching Will's cock bounce with each thrust, drops of pre-ejaculate forming at the tip before falling to pool on Hannibal's abdomen.

Will took himself in hand and met the alpha's hungry stare as he started to pump. Every second, every thrust, every twitch of his hand brought Will closer to ecstasy. And he could tell Hannibal was close, too, the alpha gritting his teeth in a mix of pain and pleasure as he fought to control himself, to allow Will time to orgasm first.

The alpha's hand joined Will's on his erection as Hannibal helped drive Will to his peak. "Alpha!" Will cried out in absolute bliss. Thick ropes of release left the tip of Will's member a heartbeat later, striping Hannibal's stomach before dripping down onto Will's hand.

Hannibal continued thrusting as he watched Will orgasm; the sight of his true mate in rapture brought the alpha's own release. With a final thrust, Hannibal spilled his seed deep inside Will's eager body. The pleasure was intense, more powerful than any previous experience ever could be.

Unable to hold himself upright any longer, Will collapsed on Hannibal's chest, heedless of the mess between them. He tucked his head beneath Hannibal's chin and started to purr. That was the most satisfying experience of Will's life, and he couldn't wait to do it again. How much more exquisite would mating be when he was in heat? He wondered what Hannibal's knot would feel like, but that would have to wait. Alphas could only knot when an omega was in heat, a throwback to more archaic times when humans were more violent and primitive. Knotting helped ensure adequate time for impregnation, but those were idle musings, best saved for another time.

They used a discarded shirt to clean their bodies, then lay tangled together on a nest of blankets that were equally twisted, their breaths slowly returning to normal. Will smiled to himself and nestled deeper into Hannibal's arms. The alpha automatically tightened his grip, an embrace Will never wanted to leave. However, as their urgent arousal faded, Will realized their coupling might have grave implications for their plan.

Sighing regretfully, Will ran his fingers over Hannibal's chin. "This complicates things, doesn't it?" he asked quietly.

Hannibal chuckled and covered Will more thoroughly with the sheet, warming the omega's cool shoulders and also conveniently concealing their moving lips from view. "On the contrary, I think it is just the thing to flame Matthew's ardor, a preview for what he hopes will become his future," he said in an equally subdued voice.

"But won't it make him jealous?" Will wondered.

“I’m counting on it,” Hannibal replied. “Think of it as tenderizing the meat, making him more susceptible to your manipulations-”

"He'll want me more because I had sex with you?" Will interrupted, unable to hide his incredulity. If he witnessed Hannibal coupling with someone else, his reaction would be violent, not covetous.

Chuckling with a sharp gleam in his eyes, Hannibal kissed Will's lips. "Matthew works the day shift. Any lingering scents will have dissipated by the time he sees the video or hears a rumor of our relations. A few words from you about a pseudo heat will have Matthew's brain filling in the blanks to justify our actions."

“But that wasn’t a pseudo,” Will protested, his cheeks reddening despite himself. There was no reason to be embarrassed about discussing his heat with his alpha, but everything was still so new.

"It's quite common for Support Alphas to assist with heats, pseudo or otherwise. Matthew knows this. Consider his reaction if you appeared regretful of your encounter with me. And what if you told him you longed to share such with him? With the right spin, he could easily be convinced that your almost-heat was a reaction to his pheromones."

Will considered Hannibal’s words, and he had to agree the alpha had a point. The alpha seemed to have more faith in Will's supposedly manipulative skills than Will did. He didn’t feel particularly skilled or believable. Suddenly, the additional consequences of their plan flooded his mind. “We can’t do this again, can we?” he asked quietly, his blunt nails digging into the flesh of Hannibal’s pectoral muscle in his distress.

Pulling Will closer beneath the sheet, Hannibal kissed him and tucked Will's head under his chin. "Things of significance come with a price, my Will. Would you not sacrifice today for tomorrow's betterment? Self-restraint will bring pain and reward, like a grain of sand inside the oyster. But oysters don't lie upon the sand. If you want a pearl, you must dive for it. We must be extremely mindful of our interactions for a time. "

Will pondered Hannibal's words and examined his own emotions. It was strange, the feeling of having given away a piece of himself, and yet he felt whole. Despite what he endured at Mason's hands, what Hannibal suggested would be Will's most difficult challenge yet.

"In keeping with your oyster metaphor, I can deal with a bit of grit, and I am a good swimmer," Will said. "But I'm more skilled at fishing than pearl hunting, and I know how to bait and set a hook." An absolutely wicked grin spread across Will's face, and he looked into Hannibal's garnet eyes, which sparkled with an equal bloodlust. “Matthew won't feel my hook until it's lodged in his throat," Will vowed.

"Indeed," Hannibal rumbled, cradling his omega protectively in their rumpled nest. "This is our design."

🔪🔪

Chapter Text

The following morning, Will and Hannibal were awake before dawn. Snuggled close together, and with the rumpled bedding providing sufficient cover, they hammered out the first part of their plan in hushed whispers. Words of sacrifice and devotion devolved into hungry, biting kisses that had to last the pair until Hannibal was free. After that morning, it would be disastrous if they allowed short-sighted passions to disrupt well-laid plans. As the rush of intense desire waned, they continued to softly caress each other, especially Hannibal, who wanted to spread his scent over every inch of Will's bare body. Though mostly symbolic, the gesture had a profound meaning as they stared into each other's eyes.

The buzzer was grating and especially unwelcome that morning. As previously agreed, it signaled the beginning of a new game with new rules. The pair shared a longing look before Will jumped from the bed, appearing shaken and embarrassed. He tugged a sheet from the mess of blankets and wrapped it haphazardly around himself. Staring at Hannibal with a cagey expression, Will fled to the relative privacy of the bathroom area, where he visibly fretted for the camera's benefit. Will turned on the water and made a scene of washing himself as if eager to remove all traces of Hannibal and his activities the previous night.

While bathing, Will pondered his recent revelations. It was a dizzying amount of information, but he felt at peace. First was his acknowledgment of Hannibal and his status as true mates. That discovery wasn't a complete surprise. In fact, he gave his inner omega credit for recognizing his mate so quickly, though it took the rest of him much longer to catch up.

Their first time together had been incredible. Will felt thoroughly claimed down to the last atom. For the first time, he was complete. Hannibal had given Will safety and love, but instead of taking control and planning out Will's whole life like most alphas would have, Hannibal challenged Will to take their joint future into his own hands. Hannibal's implicit trust and faith were humbling, yet Will felt empowered for the first time. He was responsible for not only his future happiness but Hannibal's as well. Will was more than up for the challenge.

It would be challenging to deny himself the closeness and affection Will had long craved after experiencing it for only a single night, but the reward made the temporary sacrifice well worth it. Will only hoped Hannibal made it as easy for him as possible, but he doubted that would happen. He imagined Hannibal tempting and teasing him through subtle signs that exposed his desire. Will felt himself stiffen at the thought of Hannibal sending him a subtle sultry stare when neither of them would be free to act on their desires, lest they sabotage their own plan. Will glanced down at his half-hard member ruefully and wondered if it was possible to enjoy the mental torture. It was a shame Will couldn't ask Hannibal for assistance with his little problem.

Seeking to squash his growing interest, Will turned his thoughts toward Matthew, and he felt himself softening again. Will didn't devote nearly as much thought to Matthew as a person or a pawn. He had faith in his ability to manipulate the orderly, who was no match for even Mason's sloppy cunning. Even if Matthew had listened to the same recording Dr. Chilton had, when Will revealed his forced involvement in the omega fighting ring, he doubted Matthew had any inkling of reality. Popular scripted television shows often portrayed omega fights as humorous, with a lot of yelling, slapping, and hair-pulling. Will's experience with fighting involved biting, gouging, strangling, and punching. Matthew would be surprised if he attempted to take any liberties. Will would kill the other alpha if he tried, and barring that, he would rather bite off his own tongue than allow any alpha other than Hannibal to take what was Hannibal's alone.

By the time Will had finished bathing and dried off, he was ready to set their plans in motion. Displaying signs of shyness, he left the privacy of the curtain wrapped in a towel, having forgotten to bring a change of clothes when he sprinted toward the shower earlier. While Will bathed, Hannibal had stripped their nest of all bedding and piled it by the glass. The alpha had dutifully set out a fresh pair of boxers, undershirt, and jumpsuit on the bare mattress. Will grabbed the pile and forced himself not to look at his beautiful alpha performing his morning exercises. Dressing behind the opaque privacy screen, Will soon emerged and sat at the table, his head in his hands, as if distressed or deep in thought.

Will felt Hannibal's eyes on him as the man went through his usual exercises, but the omega didn't dare return the look, fearful he would rush to the man whose exertions made him smell even more tempting than usual. Will had to play his part, and it was just the beginning of the sacrifices he would have to make. Will's cock stirred again at his thoughts, and he admitted he might have masochistic tendencies after all.

From down the hall came the sound of the morning food cart. Usually, the inmates lined up at their doors like Pavlov's dogs, waiting for the food to be passed through. The cart always made the same number of stops before arriving at Hannibal's cell, but for some reason, the cart made no stops. Shouts of "hey," "fucker," and "breakfast" came from the passed-by prisoners. Will watched as Hannibal moved to the glass and looked curiously down the hall, then he turned and gave Will a subtle smirk before retreating to his bed with a book.

Before long, a disheveled-looking Matthew came into view, pushing a full food cart. The orderly stood before the glass, looking back and forth between Hannibal, Will, and the pile of discarded bedding. He made no attempt to hide his noticeable sniffing as he took in the fading scent of sex.

A moment later, Barney came into view, slightly out of breath. "Matthew, what are you doing?" he puffed. "You appeared out of nowhere when I didn't see you on the morning rotation. When I turned my back to double-check the schedule, you disappeared with the food cart. Now, I find you didn't pass the trays out correctly, and we will have a problem with several inmates if we don't get them fed soon. You know how Miggs gets when the usual routine is disrupted."

Unfortunately, Matthew didn't seem to be listening to the head orderly as he continued to watch the two men inside the cell. Will, on his part, did his best to appear bashful while Hannibal continued to read his book, seemingly unconcerned about anything else going on around him.

Barney waved his hand in front of Matthew’s face. “Earth to Matthew,” he said, snapping his fingers a few times when he didn’t receive an immediate response.

Finally, Matthew seemed to come back to himself. “Sorry, Barney,” he said with a shrug and slight grin. “Just thought I’d help you out this morning.”

‘If you want to help, go back and pass out the trays like you were supposed to,” Barney ordered. “Now!” he added when the other man didn’t move quickly enough. When Matthew and the cart were gone, Barney shook his head. “I don't know what has gotten into that young man this morning. He spent some time in the security room and has been in a tizzy since.”

“I see,” Hannibal said, rising from the bed and approaching the glass. “Barney, would you be so kind as to replace Will’s nesting materials? I believe he would prefer fresh bedding.”

“Uh, of course, Dr. Lecter,” he said, smiling at Will.

Hannibal carefully rolled and folded each item until it fit in the pass-through box. Barney gathered up the bundles and promised to bring clean bedding after breakfast. Afterward, Hannibal returned to his book, running a hand inconspicuously over Will's shoulder as he passed and leaving Will seated at the table awaiting Matthew's return.

The orderly soon pushed the food cart into view, laden with far fewer trays than before. "Breakfast, Mr. Graham?" Matthew said in a voice that was eager, hurt, and nervous all at once.

Will made himself frown at the greeting, but nonetheless, he stood and accepted both trays from Matthew, setting them on the table. Then he returned to the glass to stand across from Matthew, picking at his nails and biting his lip in apparent nervousness.

Matthew couldn’t resist the bait. “Are you okay, Mr. Graham?” he asked.

"Yes," Will answered quietly. "Only… I am wondering if you are mad at me," he said, adding a bit of meekness but not too much to overplay his hand. He hoped Hannibal was viewing the conversation with amusement rather than jealousy.

Alarmed, Matthew asked, “Mad at you? Why would you think that?”

“Well, you called me Mr. Graham. I thought I did something that made you not want to call me Will anymore,” Will said, looking at his hands sadly.

“No, I’m not mad. I just forgot, Will. I’m feeling a little out of sorts this morning,” Matthew admitted as he rushed to reassure the omega of his goodwill.

“I’m so glad,” Will said, appearing visibly relieved. “My hormones were all out of whack, but Hannibal was able to help me get through it,” he added, making a show of swallowing nervously. “He’s a good support alpha, but I’m so happy to see you again, especially this morning,” Will added, allowing Matthew to draw whatever conclusions he wanted from that statement.

“Truly?” Matthew asked, elated, though cautious. He seemed more at ease after Will’s reassurance. Will was amazed that Matthew was willing to overlook his sexual encounter with Hannibal the previous night after just a few words from Will.

“Yes,” Will said. “The world seems to make more sense when I talk to you.”

Matthew’s answering smile was akin to a child receiving his dearest birthday wish. “Then I shall stay and talk to you,” he declared, leaning one hip against the glass, apparently prepared to remain for the foreseeable future.

“Great,” Will said, slightly alarmed that Matthew was staying when Will didn’t have any convenient conversational hooks to further engage the alpha’s attention. Thinking quickly, he asked, “Do you know any card games?”

“Card games?” Matthew asked, taken off guard by the non-sequitur. “Yes, I know a few.”

"I thought card games might be a fun way to pass the time. If you get a pack, you can teach me a few," Will suggested leadingly.

As expected, Matthew jumped at the offer. “Of course! I think there are a few packs in the rec room upstairs, but I’ll buy a new set for us on my lunch break, Will,” he said. Then, the alpha’s voice dropped into a sultry tone. “It will be my pleasure to show you the games I know to play,” Matthew said, evidently unable to prevent himself from giving off a creepy vibe.

“Really? I might just have to take you up on that offer,” Will replied, appearing bashful but interested.

"It's no trouble at all," Matthew said, gazing triumphantly at Hannibal as if the orderly had won the latest battle in some undeclared war. Hannibal, meanwhile, placidly turned the page in his book with evident disinterest.

"Great, I'll see you later," Will said. He stepped away from the glass and purposefully sat at the table, signaling he was preparing to eat.

Will's movements brought the uneaten tray to Matthew's attention, and the alpha became solicitous. "Of course, I must give out the rest of these trays. You enjoy your meal, Mr. Graham… uh, I mean, Will. Let me know if there is anything I can do for you."

“Thanks. I can’t wait until later,” Will said in farewell.

"Anything for you, Mr. Graham… Will," Matthew corrected himself as he pushed the cart out of sight.

As soon as Matthew was gone, Hannibal stood and sat at the table opposite Will. “That was nicely handled,” the alpha said under his breath. “You never cease to amaze me, my Will,” Hannibal praised quietly, lips barely moving. The alpha’s voice returned to its usual volume as he asked perfunctorily, “How is your breakfast, Will?”

“Uh, fine, thanks,” Will said, keeping his answer brief to give a sense of formality to their conversation. The omelet, toast, and fruit were quite good.

“And are you feeling more settled after your unexpected hormonal fluctuation last night?” Hannibal continued, quizzing Will in a clinical tone. Under the table, Hannibal rubbed his bare foot against Will’s sock-covered one, a clandestine caress in the heat of battle.

Will did his best not to react to the unexpected contact, even though every inch of his skin cried out for the alpha's touch. He focused on their conversation to keep him grounded. "I think so. I appreciated your help, but I hope I never experience another pseudo heat," Will said, clearly stating the last two words for the microphones' benefit. In truth, he couldn't wait to go into a natural heat with Hannibal, but such an occurrence would not happen until he was more fully recovered.

"I don't think you will," Hannibal reassured. "I will assist you as needed, of course, but in my experience, it is improbable."

“I hope you’re right. It’s embarrassing to feel out of control,” Will said, carrying on their charade of a formal conversation between a support alpha and his charge.

“Perhaps you should discuss your concerns with Bella. Your next appointment is in a few days,” Hannibal suggested.

“Good idea,” Will agreed. After that, the two finished their meal in silence.

Barney arrived with the promised bedding after breakfast. It was clean and smelled of industrial soap. Hannibal accepted the items and immediately set to work rebuilding Will’s nest. It was a service they agreed Hannibal should continue to provide as Will’s support alpha. Ceasing such care abruptly would likely raise questions they would prefer to avoid. Hannibal did not go out of his way to mark each item with his scent. In fact, he touched the bedding as little as possible, saving only Will’s pillow, which he rubbed his wrist surreptitiously against as his back was turned to the hallway camera.

Matthew returned to collect their trays while Hannibal was busy with Will's nest. After Will returned the trays, Matthew pulled something from his lab coat pocket, glanced around, and then passed it through to Will. It was a rose fashioned out of a paper napkin, complete with stem and leaf.

Matthew cleared his throat, his cheeks tinted pink. “Just something I made out of extra napkins,” he explained. “I thought you might like it,”

"Thank you, Matthew. I do," Will said, stunned. It was the first tangible gift he had received since his youth, besides the bouquets of flowers from strangers that had arrived during his stay at the hospital. It's not that others haven't given him things, but they had been necessary items: clothes, food, medical care, housing, and even the limited entertainment brought about by books. Will knew if Hannibal had been able, the alpha would have showered Will with thoughtful gifts, but he didn't discount the patient love and care Hannibal had provided. However, the napkin rose was the first item Will had received simply to make him happy. He knew Matthew had dreams that led beyond the paper flower, which would never come true, but for a moment, Will savored the gift for the spirit in which it was given.

Matthew's face flushed with warmth at Will's pleased reaction, and he couldn't resist shooting Hannibal a victorious smirk. Will noticed the look and hoped that Hannibal could maintain his aloof attitude in the face of such a challenge. The alpha must have been successful as Matthew looked disappointed momentarily before he looked back at Will and smiled again. "Anyway, I need to get back to collecting the trays. Enjoy your flower, Will. Maybe sometime you'd like to take a walk in the courtyard?" Matthew said.

Will looked down and bit his lip, appearing deliciously shy. When he looked back at the orderly, his smile was hopeful. “I’d like that,” he said.

“Great! I’ll find a way to make it work. Just leave it to me,” Matthew said. When Will nodded, Matthew gave a little wave before leaving to collect the rest of the trays from the unit.

Will and Hannibal exchanged a quick longing look as Will turned from the glass and climbed into his nest alone. After a moment, he selected a dog training book from his shelf, propped it on his knees, and settled down to read. It was strange, reclining in his nest without his alpha by his side, but he would have to become used to it in the short term.

🔪🔪

Sometime after lunch that day, Dr. Chilton unexpectedly appeared, looking as miffed as a wet hen. Hannibal rose immediately upon spotting the doctor and approached the glass to address him.

“Frederick,” the alpha greeted in a booming, jovial voice. “How can we assist you on this fine day?”

"Don't play coy with me, Hannibal. Do you know the mess you and that omega have caused?" Dr. Chilton accused.

"Whatever could you mean, dear Frederick?" Hannibal asked in a voice so innocent that even the Pope would be convinced.

Dr. Chilton visibly struggled to regain his composure, but his voice gave away his seething annoyance. "There was a reason I wanted that omega on suppressants! Do you know how much I will spend on laundry due to your little tryst?"

While Dr. Chilton spoke, Hannibal studied his fingernails as if the secret of life was hidden among his cuticles. "I'm sorry, Frederick. Did you say something?" Hannibal asked, looking up with wide eyes.

“Your little show last night riled up every prisoner on this block! I warned you and Bella Crawford that something like this would happen,” Dr. Chilton fumed. “No omega should be permitted in this wing without being on suppressants!”

“I see. Thank you, Frederick, for your unsolicited advice. Allow me a few moments to pretend to carefully consider it,” Hannibal said, proceeding to do just that. Then the alpha said, “We decline your suggestion.”

"What about him?" Dr. Chilton asked, jabbing a finger in Will's direction. "I haven't heard anything from your precious little omega. Maybe now he sees that I'm right," Dr. Chilton said triumphantly, assuming Will would jump at the chance to take suppressants. The Director looked expectantly at Will, who was still reclining in his nest.

Will had been watching the ongoing conversation with amusement, though his face did not betray his thoughts. With a straight face, he replied, “I wrote all of your opinions on a piece of toilet paper so I can wipe my ass with it.”

Hannibal smiled again and held his arms out to either side as if to say, There you have it.

"He's just as belligerent as you," Dr. Chilton sneered at the inmate. "You've corrupted him. I knew this would happen. No prisoner should be trusted with a vulnerable omega. That goes double for you!" he said, pointing at Hannibal.

Instead of replying, Hannibal yawned ostentatiously, with eyes closed and arms stretching over his head. When he opened his eyes again, he made a show of appearing surprised that Dr. Chilton was still there. "Was there something else?" he asked the other doctor dismissively.

Frederick was visibly fuming. Will was surprised steam wasn't coming out of the man's ears. With effort, the Director composed himself but only just. "Yes," the man said through gritted teeth. "I received an order from the court granting your request for recreational time but don't think you have won anything. I don't think you'll enjoy your rec time as much as you anticipate."

“Do you claim to be an expert on what I will enjoy?” Hannibal asked placidly.

"To be frank, I don't care. I'm the Director of this facility, and I create the rules and protocols," Dr. Chilton said pompously as if his air of authority would overwrite his earlier loss of control.

“Yes,” Hannibal agreed blithely. “You are a sad little man hoping to impress others by rearranging your toys. Be careful, Frederick, lest someone kick over your sandcastle,” Hannibal warned darkly.

Dr. Chilton harrumphed and spun on his heel to march away, but Hannibal's voice halted him before he could take a single step.

“Are the others on this floor the only ones with dirty laundry after witnessing our activities last night? You must have watched the video to be so well-informed. Tell me, Frederick, is your underwear sodden and sticky? Best cry to mommy,” Hannibal taunted.

“You’re pitiful, Hannibal, trying to wound me with words while you are the one trapped behind bars like an animal,” Dr. Chilton sneered.

“Be careful, Frederick, lest your words come back to bite you,” Hannibal said, gnashing his teeth at the Director in a feral grin. Dr. Chilton’s expression betrayed his fear, and he hurried away without engaging the alpha further.

“Wait, come back. You forgot your bullshit!” Will called out when Dr. Chilton was out of sight. Unsurprisingly, Dr. Chilton did not return.

A moment later, the door to the cell block slammed with decidedly more force than usual, and the men shared a chuckle. Hannibal's expression was more than appreciative, akin to a dragon gazing upon its most favored treasure. Will, likewise, longed to reaffirm their connection, especially after emerging victorious from the latest skirmish. It was a primal urge, but neither man succumbed to his desire.

Hannibal kept their conversation focused on the BSHCI Director. “These little clashes with Frederick are always enjoyable though rarely productive,” he said.

“Yeah, he’s an ass,” Will agreed. He forced his eyes to return to the book on dog training. Gazing upon Hannibal without being able to act on his desires was a challenge, but he followed his alpha’s lead.

🔪🔪

Matthew returned after dinner, waving a box of playing in front of his face with a broad grin. "Will, I got the cards," he sang out. Then, Matthew glanced down the hall as if anticipating someone would interfere with his plans but plowed on after a moment. "I asked Dr. Chilton if we could play using the pass-through, but he's in a really bad mood today. Barney said the cards must stay outside Dr. Lecter's cell until I have permission. But don't worry, I still have a game we can play!" Matthew said.

Without waiting for a reply, he sat on the hallway floor and opened the box of cards. Matthew removed all the face cards, aces, and jokers from the deck and then shuffled the remaining cards as thoroughly as possible. Next, Matthew laid the cards on the ground, face-down in a grid pattern. When he finished, he looked up at Will with red cheeks. "I took out some of the cards so they wouldn't take up too much room," Matthew explained, indicating the hallway. "I know this might seem like a child's game, but it was the best I could think of on short notice. I'll talk to Dr. Chilton again tomorrow, okay?"

Will sat on the floor opposite the orderly, studying the cards through the glass. Hannibal had retreated to his mind palace after eating, but Will knew his alpha was keenly aware of what was happening around him. "How do we play?" Will asked.

“This is a memory game called concentration. We each pick two cards and try to make a match. I’ll flip the cards over for both of us. If we get a match, we get to guess again. Our matches are set aside until all the cards are collected. The one with the most matches wins,” Matthew explained.

Will nodded. He had played a similar game as a child and had a decent memory.

Matthew smiled. “We’ll match numbers and colors. You go first,” he said eagerly, leaning forward slightly in anticipation of Will’s words.

"Third card down in the second column and second card in the fifth," Will guessed. Matthew turned the cards, revealing a black 10 and a red 2. Then, he flipped them back over since there wasn't a match. Next, Matthew selected two cards, turning them so both men could view them before turning them back over again.

The two continued until Will had six matches and Matthew had five. “You’re pretty good at this game,” Matthew praised. “How have things been for you?” he asked vaguely, gesturing to Hannibal’s cell and the hospital itself in a general sort of way.

"Pretty good," Will said. "I think I'm getting better. I've started to think about what direction I want my life to go once I'm well enough to leave here. The thought of being on my own makes me nervous," Will said in a low voice as if confiding a secret.

“Let me know if there is anything I can do to help,” Matthew replied immediately.

Will looked down at his crisscrossed legs and then back up at the other alpha from under his bangs with a look that bordered on smoldering. "Thank you. I will definitely take you up on that offer," he said in a voice that had taken on a husky quality.

Matthew visibly swallowed several times as if his mouth had gone dry. “It’s… it’s your turn,” he said faintly, evidently still overwhelmed.

Looking back down at the cards, Will said, "Oh, you're right," in a way that had Matthew swaying where he sat. The alpha's scent flared with satisfaction. Most alphas prided themselves on being right, and having that superiority acknowledged by an omega was like catnip for Matthew's ego. Matthew straightened from his slouch and pushed his chest out slightly to give him a more impressive appearance, much like a peacock strutting around a peahen.

Will continued to give subtle encouragement as they played, scattering praise over the alpha, like sprinkles on a cupcake, enough to add flavor but not enough to overwhelm. He was careful not to overplay his hand. As the game progressed, Will had to decide whether to win or allow Matthew to do so. He had a good idea where the remaining matches were, by process of elimination, if nothing else. It was an added complication he did not relish, and there was no way he couldn't ask Hannibal for his opinion.

When it was Will's turn again, the decision was made for him. It was against his nature to give up. Will had been defeated before, but he never gave up a win. With a look of grim determination, he started calling out the matches. Each matched set granted him another turn, and Will soon had all the matches in his pile. Matthew didn't even get a turn to guess again before Will won their first game of concentration.

Matthew’s pleased grin told Will he had made the right decision. “That was amazing!” the alpha said with genuine enthusiasm. “You have a great memory, Will!” He started collecting the cards and shuffling them. “Do you want to play again?” he asked hopefully, holding up the deck.

"Maybe tomorrow," Will said, making a show of yawning. "I'm a bit tired right now." From further in the cell, Will heard Hannibal rise from his bed, followed by the unmistakable sound of him using the toilet. Matthew's eyes, however, never strayed from Will's face.

“Of course, we can play tomorrow!” Matthew said quickly. “It’s probably time for me to go home anyway. I’m off the clock and not supposed to linger after my shift, but Barney said he would cover for me if you wanted to play.”

"It was nice that you stayed for me," Will said, pushing himself to his feet, "I hope your partner won't be jealous," Will said timidly, appearing afraid of the answer.

Matthew stood as well. “I’m single, Mr. Graham….uh, Will,” Matthew admitted, his cheeks pink. Still, he didn’t hesitate to step closer to the glass.

Will did his best to appear shocked. “I just assumed such a kind and thoughtful alpha would already have a mate,” Will said, meeting Matthew’s eyes before glancing away shyly.

“Perhaps I’m just waiting for the right person,” Matthew said leadingly. He placed the fingers of one hand through the waist-high air hole and wiggled them in invitation.

Will looked down at the fingers and resisted the urge to retreat to Hannibal's side. Instead, he raised his own hand to touch the back of Matthew's hand. Matthew seemed to take this as an invitation, turning his hand until he could trace the scent gland at Will's wrist. Oils from his own gland leaving traces of his scent on Will's palm.

Matthew's fingers against Will's skin felt like a spider's spindly legs: creepy and unwelcome. Yet, Will forced himself to smile. "Until tomorrow then," he said, pulling his hand back slowly as if reluctant. He then took several steps backward, like he wanted to keep the other alpha in view for as long as possible.

When Matthew was out of sight, Will immediately turned to find his alpha standing several feet behind him and looking at him with inscrutable eyes. Will darted around him and retreated to the cell's rear, where he washed both hands vigorously with soap and hot water. When finished, he found his alpha sitting on his bed and staring at him intently. "Well done, Will," Hannibal praised. The alpha's garnet eyes were intent, and Will knew Hannibal meant those words. All of Will's strain and worry faded in the face of his true mate's approval of his performance.

Will climbed back into his nest and picked up the book again. Hannibal, meanwhile, sat at the table and continued working on a drawing of a gothic angel he had seen in a cemetery somewhere in Europe. The scratching of Hannibal’s charcoal pencil was soothing, as was the alpha’s calm, easy breathing and warm absinthe scent. Will snuggled deeper in his nest, moving a few pillows to better support his back, when he uncovered Hannibal’s undershirt hidden amongst the bedding. Will closed the book, turned to his side, and discretely buried his face in Hannibal’s shirt.

Will didn’t realize he had started to purr until Hannibal’s corresponding croon joined his, creating a connection between the mates that transcended physical touch. With that reassuring rumble filling his chest and his ears, Will slipped into a contented doze accompanied by the scent and sound of his alpha.

🔪🔪

Chapter Text

Dr. Hannibal Lecter was not in the habit of denying himself the things he most desired.

As the first-born son of an aristocratic family, Hannibal's early childhood was full of tangible indulgences. His impressive intellect was discovered early on, and his tutors had no shortage of praise for Hannibal's sharp mind and gift for learning languages. But the young Lecter heir was odd due to his genius or some other undiagnosed disorder. Hannibal was called reserved, analytical, and regulated: traits not usually attributed to children. Nonetheless, Hannibal's parents were exceedingly proud of their son and doted on him, an affection the young boy neither understood nor desired.

When Hannibal was six years old, his mother gave birth to a second child, a girl they named Mischa. Hannibal had been studying Latin when the infant's angry cries announced her entrance into the world. Hannibal tuned out the racket and returned to his studies, indifferent to the new arrival. But, several hours later, his father urged him to enter his mother’s room to kiss her cheek and gaze upon his new sister, sleeping quietly in a bassinet.

Mischa was clothed in a white gown with a matching bonnet and was swaddled in a soft blanket. The baby's face was cherubic, with long dark eyelashes and perfect cupid bow lips, much like his own. Curls of dark blonde hair peeked out from under the bonnet at her forehead and temples. As Hannibal watched, she smacked her lips hungrily and started to cry. The vulnerable sound, so different from her first angry wails, moved Hannibal. A warmth grew inside him in a place that had always been empty and cold.

Without hesitation, Hannibal bent over his sister’s bassinet and rubbed a finger carefully against her cheek. Mischa continued to fuss and wiggle feebly in the swaddling wrap, much like a caterpillar inside its pupa. Hannibal shushed the baby and patted her belly gently. Then, he stuck his finger in her mouth, allowing her to satisfy the urge to suck. Mischa blinked newborn-blue eyes and gazed sleepily up at her big brother. The warmth inside Hannibal grew larger, filling more of that empty place. Hannibal vowed to always care for and protect the being who had made him feel something for the first time.

From that time, Hannibal was devoted to Mischa. Her joy was his joy. When his studies permitted, he indulged her in games of tea party or make believe. Her favorite pastime was wandering the woodlands surrounding Castle Lecter with Hannibal by her side. She would search the underbrush diligently for kaukai, hoping to find one of the tiny creatures that could turn into a handful of dust (or vice-versa) and who brought good luck if they settled in a home. Mischa loved it when Hannibal retold the folktales he had learned from the old nurse who cared for him when he was young. Hannibal used the stories to teach her some of the languages he knew, retelling her favorite tales in Lithuanian, German, English, Italian, or Latin.

Despite Hannibal's attempts at tutelage, Mischa had been a free spirit, a stark contrast to her serious older brother. Instead of driving them apart, their differences were celebrated. Hannibal adored everything about her: an innocent, wholesome soul, while his own was obtuse and twisted.

The Lecter children's idyllic life ended when Nazi soldiers invaded their home, murdering the household staff and forcing the family to flee to a cabin abandoned and almost forgotten on their vast estate.

Life in the cottage had been primitive and quiet. His parents hoped to wait out the immediate conflict and return to their home when the soldiers moved on. Unfortunately, they had no control over their fate. In Hannibal’s last memories of his family, his father had been whittling by candlelight, a patient and focused expression on his face. Hannibal’s mother had been sitting on the bed with Mischa, braiding the girl’s hair and singing a song.

Hannibal cut off the stream of memories in the same place he always did: before deserting soldiers banged on the wooden door and ended whatever future the family was supposed to have. Hannibal, alone, survived the ordeal, but he did not emerge unscathed. Mischa, the only person he had ever cared for, was gone.

Rendered mute by the trauma, Hannibal spent some time in an orphanage. There, he was singled out and mercilessly tormented. The experience continued to harden Hannibal, further twisting his views of humanity and laying the foundation for the strict code he would later use to judge others who violated what he considered socially desirable and appropriate.

But there was no advantage to rehashing the past, Hannibal decided, especially not inside his own mind. He already knew the whole story, after all. Still ensconced in his mind palace, Hannibal allowed his consciousness to rise closer to the surface. The pleasing timbre of Will's voice washed over Hannibal, leaving traces behind like dew on a blade of grass. That cherished sound was immediately followed by an alpha's deeper, more domineering tone. The second voice belonged to Matthew Brown, the alpha orderly attempting to court Hannibal's mate. Hannibal fully returned to himself but remained unmoving on the bed. Then, he turned his head gingerly to observe the two men sitting on opposite sides of the glass.

"You're good at this, Will!" Matthew was saying, scooting his folding chair closer to the partition so he could peer at the sudoku puzzle Will was working on. The men each had a copy of the same puzzle and were competing to finish it first. Their interactions were cooperative and antagonistic, perfect for effective flirting.

"I don't know, Matthew," Will said teasingly. "You've already completed half the puzzle. Don't be modest now after all your bragging earlier."

Matthew was apparently overcome by the praise. He rubbed the back of his neck with a hand and looked down at the sheet of paper he held, his cheeks tinted pink. “T-Thanks,” he said. “I live alone, so puzzles help me pass the time when bored.”

You must be extremely bored to spend all your time chasing my mate, Hannibal thought uncharitably. Though the passing thought was snide, the basis was pure instinct. It wasn't natural to sit placidly while another alpha made moves on his mate. Hannibal didn't seek to silence his disgruntled inner alpha; rather, he let his animalistic side rage so that the regimented side of his personality could put the other alpha at ease.

While Hannibal was busy suppressing his natural aggression, Will used Matthew's comment to advance his objective. "What's it like to live alone?" he asked, penciling in a number on the row he was working on.

“Quiet,” Matthew offered. “Boring, obviously, but I can do what I please without having anyone to answer to,” he added with a chuckle. “Why do you ask?”

"I guess I've started thinking about what's next. I mean, where do I go from here? For so long, I only thought about escaping, and I never considered what kind of life I would have on the outside."

“Yeah, that does sound tough. Do you have any ideas of what you want?” Matthew asked.

It was Will's chance to tell the complete truth without giving anything away. That Matthew assumed Will was talking about him was neither here nor there. "Well, I've always hoped to be bonded one day," Will began. "Traveling sounds nice since I've pretty much been trapped for most of my adult life. At some point, I might like a job, like working in a bait shop or even a bookstore. And I'd like a dog."

Hannibal listened intently to his mate's requests, supremely confident in his abilities to meet Will's needs, including those he did not mention. Though the list sounded generic enough, Hannibal knew those desires were true.

"And what about children?" Matthew asked. After all, not all male omegas wanted to bear children.

"I'm not ruling it out, but I would have to talk about it with my alpha," Will said. Hannibal saw Will's face turn slightly toward him, but not enough where they could actually make eye contact. Will must have realized Hannibal was no longer inside his mind palace, but the knowledge didn't temper the omega's words. Hannibal's garnet eyes were fixed on Will's profile. If Will wanted children, Hannibal was more than pleased to father them and raise them alongside his true mate.

“You’re interested in alphas? Not another omega or a beta?” Matthew asked. His tone and body language indicated Matthew was striving for nonchalance and polite interest, but Hannibal could see right through that facade. And if Hannibal could, he had no doubts Will could as well.

"I've always been a bit old-fashioned," Will admitted. "The deep bond that develops between alphas and omegas is frankly something that appeals to me. My experiences with other omegas have been less than ideal, and my history with pretentious betas is enough to put me off for several lifetimes."

“It’s probably hard to meet alphas in here,” Matthew said, indicating the entirety of the BSHCI.

"Well, maybe, but when you meet the right alpha, you just know," Will said, looking down at his lap and meaningfully at Matthew with a coy smile. His tone changed then and became a little more uncertain. "I'm not that worried about being outside the hospital without my mate. But possibly having to live alone before we mate does scare me a bit."

“We?” Matthew purred, leaning forward suggestively.

Will's eyes widened comically as if he couldn't believe his words. His cheeks flamed red, and he glanced shyly at Matthew from under lowered brows. "Oh… well, you know what I mean," Will said, striving for dismissiveness but failing noticeably. He poked the sharpened tip of the pencil through the corner of the paper several times and bounced his knee in apparent anxiety. Hannibal had to repress the urge to chuckle at Will's acting ability as he watched his future mate skillfully manipulate the alpha orderly.

"I think I do," Matthew replied quietly, appearing extremely pleased by the direction his conversation with Will was going. From the orderly's point of view, Will seemed smitten but cautious. Tentatively, the alpha raised a hand and pushed his fingers through the nearby airhole, hoping Will would return the gesture. It took a moment, but Will's fingers danced across the skin of Matthew's knuckles. Matthew started to purr at the contact; his croon sounded more mechanical than Hannibal's, more like an engine's growl than thunder's rumbling. "Like I said before, if you need something, all you need to do is ask. I'm on your side, Mr. Graham… uh, Will." Matthew said.

Voices from down the hall brought a halt to Matthew’s flirting. One glance at the cell block entrance had him rising to his feet, folding up the chair he had been sitting on, and storing it in a nearby closet. “I need to go, Will,” Matthew whispered, straightening the sleeves of his lab coat. “Dr. Chilton is coming.”

However, before Matthew could escape, the BSHCI director arrived at Hannibal's cell, accompanied by Barney and two armed guards holding long poles. Dr. Chilton's expression was smug, and he rubbed his hands together like a comic book villain. "It's time for your walk, Hannibal. I've brought your leash, so be a good dog, will you?" the man sneered.

When Dr. Chilton noticed Matthew standing back, he said, "I'm glad you're here, Mr. Brown. You can assist Barney and accompany us to the gymnasium." After that, the doctor seemed to dismiss Matthew and turned his attention back to Hannibal.

"You've tried to force my hand with that little stunt in court, but I am in control," Dr. Chilton said. "You'll spend 30 minutes in our on-site gym twice a week, but you won't be free to roam, oh no. You will be restrained, of course, but I'll allow you some movement. It will be enjoyable to have another enclosure in which to watch you pace like the animal you are," he added acidly.

Hannibal raised his hands and slow-clapped in a mocking display. “Remarkable boy. I do admire your courage. I think I’ll eat your heart,” he said, gnashing his teeth threateningly.

Dr. Chilton took an unnecessary step backward, then seemed startled by his action. His face darkening with rage, the director turned to the guards. “Leash him,” Dr. Chilton barked like the dog he accused Hannibal of being. Barney stepped forward then and provided clear, calm instructions to Hannibal, who complied willingly enough.

🔪🔪

While Hannibal was being restrained, Will joined Matthew in the hall. The orderly smiled wanly at him. "I guess it was a good thing I was here," Matthew whispered.

Will glanced at Matthew and then back at Hannibal. “Yeah,” he agreed, only half paying attention. He was studying the new transfer process for his mate, noting any openings or weaknesses from an outsider’s perspective.

In the end, Hannibal's hands were handcuffed behind his back. The cuffs were secured to a wide leather belt fastened around his waist. Finally, two long catch-poles were connected to the belt, one at each of the man's hips. An armed guard held each pole, which were about five feet long. Surprisingly, Hannibal was not required to wear the bite mask.

Dr. Chilton gestured for the guards to maneuver Hannibal out of the cell. The director seemed to have regained his derisive attitude and addressed the prisoner haughtily. “How happy it makes me to see you at the end of one of those poles. You’re no better than a common cur, hoping for a pat on the head and a warm place by the fire, right, Hannibal?” Dr. Chilton chuckled.

“You are certainly in a position to judge from those lofty heights you have ascended to. Tell me, Frederick, how is the view from the top of the bell curve?” Hannibal asked, feigning admiration.

While Dr. Chilton sputtered indignantly, Will and Matthew shared a conspiratorial chuckle. Will smiled at this mate, approving of the backhanded compliment. Hannibal met Will’s gaze for a moment, and though an outside observer would only see indifference, Will could see his mate’s garnet eyes sparkle with amusement.

Without speaking further, Dr. Chilton set off down the hall, followed by the guards leading Hannibal. When they reached the elevator, Matthew and Will were instructed to follow a few moments later when the empty elevator returned. Before the mates were separated by the closing doors, Will and Hannibal shared a meaningful look, and Will understood his mate’s unspoken message.

As the doors began to close, Will turned to Matthew, a charming smile on his face. He side-stepped closer to the orderly, playfully bumping his hip into the other man. “So, Matthew, going my way?” Will asked, gesturing to the closing doors and pointing to the ceiling. He made no attempt to disguise his teasing. Hannibal’s approving smirk flashed from the elevator an instant before the doors closed. Will would take advantage of the opportunity afforded by Hannibal’s transfer and recreational time to ensnare Matthew. He would not fail his alpha.

Meanwhile, Matthew was gaping at Will with awe, much like a child seeing fireworks for the first time. "I… I think Dr. Chilton wants us to follow him. Otherwise, I'd take you outside to walk in the garden," Matthew said, blushing. He used his key to recall the elevator.

“Maybe another time?” Will asked, stepping inside the elevator when the doors opened. In truth, he was anxious to find his mate and see what kind of accommodations Dr. Chilton set up for him. When they exited the elevator, Will winced at the unexpectedly bright light. Hannibal’s wing was subterranean, so the combination of natural light and bright fluorescents was disorienting. Matthew led Will down the hall to a set of double doors.

Inside was a large room reminiscent of a high school gymnasium. In the middle of the space, a steel cable was suspended from the ceiling above a large circle painted on the floor. The guards had maneuvered Hannibal beneath the cable, holding him in place while Barney attached it to the back of the belt around Hannibal's waist with a screw-lock carabiner.

After Hannibal was tethered, Barney moved a safe distance away. The guards backed away, taking Hannibal with them until all the slack was gone. When the cable was taut, the guards stood outside the circle with Hannibal inside it. The cable prevented Hannibal from straying outside the painted ring, which served as a boundary marker. The guards carefully disconnected the poles and retreated to the edge of the room, where they maintained a careful watch, loaded weapons at their sides.

Dr. Chilton seemed to be in his element again, strolling outside the circle's perimeter and whistling to Hannibal as if calling a dog. Hannibal didn't pay the insignificant man's mocking any heed. Instead, he walked around slowly, studying the suspended cable. Sometimes, he would pause and tilt his face towards the sunlight that shone through a set of windows mounted high on the wall, well above reach.

As Will and Matthew drew close, Dr. Chilton turned on his heel to storm off, apparently humiliated by Hannibal's lack of reaction. If Chilton were a cat, his fur would have been standing on end. Footsteps echoed off the walls as the director strode toward the double doors. In a moment of carelessness, his cane slipped from his fingers and tangled in his legs, causing him to sprawl facedown on the floor. Adding insult to injury, his cane rolled away with a quiet hum.

Silence descended on the room until Dr. Chilton groaned. Barney and Matthew rushed to assist him. The guards remained at either side of the room, watching the cannibal's every move. Hannibal's eyes gleamed red, and the corners of his lips tightened in silent pleasure as he watched the disgruntled doctor being hauled to his feet. Dr. Chilton barked something at Barney, roughly grabbed his cane from Matthew's outstretched hand, and stalked from the room.

Will paused near the doors when Dr. Chilton fell but continued after Matthew rushed away. He was eager to be close to his mate again. "The tragedy of what happened to Chilton has put me in an excellent humor," Hannibal said brightly when Will approached. Hannibal's posture was stately and relaxed despite his arms awkwardly secured behind his back.

Hannibal used his foot to indicate the painted circle. "Do you like my little exercise cage, Will? My lawyer has always wanted to nag Dr. Chilton for better accommodations. I don't know which is the greater fool." Hannibal took a moment to look Will up and down. His face remained impassive, but his eyes and flash of scent conveyed a level of desire that had Will's knees threatening to give way.

"I'd ask you to go on a stroll with me, but I see our dear friend, Matthew, heading this way," Hannibal said with a wink. He lengthened his stride, long legs carrying him away as he circled his allotted space. Will doubted Hannibal would ever fail to take advantage of everything before him.

“Did you see Dr. Chilton?” Matthew asked breathlessly when he stood at Will’s side. Will chuckled and smiled, and Matthew smiled, too. The alpha orderly studied Hannibal’s exercise area. “Whoa, quite the setup Dr. Lecter has here,” he said. Then he pulled a deck of cards from the pocket of his lab coat and waved them enticingly at Will. “Since we couldn’t finish our puzzle, care to go to the rec room to play some gin rummy?” Matthew asked hopefully.

Will plucked the pack from Matthew’s hand and tossed it in the air, catching it easily. “Don’t assume I’ll let you win just because you’re an alpha,” Will said, starting off toward the double doors. As much as it pained him, Will did not look back at his alpha but was comforted by the feel of Hannibal’s eyes on his back.

Matthew laughed and caught up with Will, holding the door open gallantly for the omega. "Let me win?" he scoffed playfully. "Ha! That's a good one!"

“So, you’re saying you're better than you look?” Will asked with a smirk, passing from the room and into the brightly lit hallway.

“Yeah, that’s what I’m saying-” Matthew started to follow before freezing. “Hey!” he protested half-heartedly when he realized he had agreed with the veiled insult.

Will laughed and waited for the alpha orderly to catch up. Feigning a lightheartedness he did not feel, Will followed Matthew through another door. The rec room was large and cozy compared to the more austere spaces Will had seen in the BSHCI. A set of couches was arranged in front of a television, and there were tables for reading, games, or crafts. A set of bookcases lined one wall filled with books, puzzles, and DVDs. Posters hung on the walls encouraging those within to "Hang in There," "Believe that Tomorrow will be Better than Today," and reminding them that "Good Things Take Time."

Matthew went to one of the tables near a window and pulled out a chair for Will, pushing it in for him as he sat down. Will suddenly realized that Hannibal had always done the same thing. He stood behind Will's chair and waited for him to be seated, pausing before sitting in his own seat. However, Hannibal couldn't push the chair in for him because it was bolted to the floor. It was no surprise that every time Will learned something new about etiquette, Hannibal was way ahead of him.

When Matthew was seated across from him, Will opened the box of playing cards and shuffled them thoroughly. As he dealt ten cards to Matthew and himself, Will recalled his father teaching him to shuffle, claiming it would be harder for someone to cheat him if he knew how to shuffle and deal.

As an omega, it was Will's turn first, as was customary for all mixed-designation games. Will picked up his cards, sorting them into melds. The first card in the discard pile was the 5 of hearts. Will picked it up and added it to his hand, creating a run alongside the 5 of diamonds and the 5 of spades. He placed the 10 of diamonds on the discard pile, finishing up his turn.

“Just what I needed,” Matthew sang out, picking up Will’s discarded 10 of diamonds and putting a 2 of hearts down instead.

"Yeah, well, don't get used to it," Will replied. The two men became lost in the game, talking mainly about the cards until, after four rounds, Will had reached over 100 points. After the final scoring, Will was declared the winner. Feeling the thrill of victory, Will looked around, only then realizing other hospital residents were also in the rec room.

A man with greasy-looking hair sat at a nearby table, playing a game of checkers against himself. He switched from one seat to another at each turn to move the black or red pieces. When a staff member offered to play with him, he became irate and threw the board across the room, the pieces scattering on the floor. A teenage girl in a hospital gown grabbed one of the pieces and shoved it between her teeth. She was tackled by two orderlies who proceeded to pry the black disk from her mouth before escorting her from the room. A middle-aged woman whose tough life gave her an elderly appearance avidly watched an antiques collecting program on television. Drool dripped down the chin of a wheelchair-bound man parked in an out-of-the-way corner of the room. He didn't appear to be lucid, probably due to the heavy use of sedative and psychotropic drugs.

"Would you like to play again?" Matthew asked then, startling Will, who was still observing the room's other occupants.

Will glanced up at a clock on the wall and saw that 30 minutes had passed. Hannibal would surely be taken back to his cell soon.

Matthew turned to see what Will was looking at and seemed equally surprised at the passage of time. "Wow, time really does fly," he said. "I think we have time to get a cup of ice cream if you'd like."

“Um, it sounds good, but maybe we should check on Hannibal,” Will suggested. “I don’t want to get in trouble if they have to wait for me.”

Matthew nodded. "Hold on a sec," he said, standing and crossing to a staff phone locked inside a plastic case. Matthew used his keys to unlock the box and pick up the receiver. After speaking to someone for a minute, Matthew hung up the phone, locked the box, and returned to Will. "I called the gym to check-in. They are starting preparations to take Dr. Lecter back. It will take a bit since today is the first time they are going through the new protocols. Some of it relies on Dr. Lecter's cooperation. If he wanted to make things difficult for them, he could."

Will lapsed into silence as he pondered their options for escape. Hannibal had reassured him that once he knew Dr. Chilton’s plans, it would be easier to hammer out the details. What Matthew mentioned about Hannibal’s cooperation might be the driving force of their plan.

“Would you like that ice cream now, Will?” Matthew asked, unknowingly interrupting Will’s ruminations. He sat next to the omega and placed his hand beside Will's on the table. Their hands were close, and Matthew took advantage of the opportunity to rub his pinky finger against Will’s in a soft caress. Matthew was watching their hands intently, one side of his mouth quirked up in a wistful smile.

Matthew's good looks and appeal were easy to see, but he still wasn't Will's alpha. Will resisted the urge to jerk his hand away. Instead, he tapped into his desire to see Hannibal freed and returned the touch with his own pinky. "Ice cream sounds nice," he said softly.

Matthew fist-pumped in the air before jumping up and holding a hand out chivalrously to Will. Matthew helped Will to his feet, but instead of letting the omega's hand go, he guided Will's hand to wrap around his bicep, patting Will's fingers gently. Then he led Will from the recreation room like a groom with his chosen bride.

The cafeteria was across the hall, so Will was soon ensconced at another table. He glanced around the room when Matthew left to retrieve their frozen treat. Nearby, a young woman with her hair pulled into a messy bun sat hunched over the table. She gripped a plastic fork in her fist and used it to "scribble" across the tabletop, nearly spilling her tray of food. An orderly arrived to speak to her. When he held out his hand for the spork, the woman reacted violently, trying to stab him with the utensil's small plastic tines. A short scuffle ensued, and the spork went sailing across the room, landing near the door before sliding under a trash can. As soon as the spork vanished from sight, the woman's demeanor changed completely. The arms she had extended to claw at the orderly relaxed, and she hugged the man instead. The orderly helped her scoot more fully onto the chair and left the woman happily eating her meal with her hands.

Will shook his head, wondering about the woman's condition, but was sidetracked when Matthew returned with two small cups of vanilla ice cream and two sporks. Matthew set one cup down in front of Will, handed him a spork, and sat in the seat to Will's right. Will would have preferred chocolate or strawberry ice cream, but vanilla would have to do. The ice cream was slightly freezer-burnt, but it tasted good enough. Matthew savored the dessert while Will quickly polished off the small cup. It had been so long since he had ice cream.

When Matthew noticed Will’s treat was gone, he scooped a bite out of his cup and held it out to Will. “You can have some of mine if you’d like,” Matthew said, holding the bite out like he expected Will to lean forward and eat off his spork.

Will could only imagine what his mate would say if he saw such uncouth manners. “I’m good. Thanks anyway,” he said.

Matthew shrugged and finished off his ice cream before throwing away their trash. “We should go back down to the secure prisoners wing now,” he said. Will nodded and stood, following the alpha orderly from the room. They glanced into the gymnasium, but it was empty, so they headed for the elevator and took it down to the basement level.

Various scents hit Will inside the elevator's enclosed space, but his alpha's was by far the most potent. Will detected discomfort, irritation, and impatience lingering in Hannibal's smell. When the doors opened, Will followed the scent down the hallway toward the alpha's cell. He only remembered to wait for Matthew when he passed the guard's desk.

Thankfully, it seemed Hannibal and his entourage had only just arrived. Hannibal's head turned toward Will as soon as he was scented. Though the alpha's face remained impassive, Will knew Hannibal was relieved to see him. The guards stood to either side of Hannibal, securely holding the poles while Barney checked the cell. Another staff member had cleaned the cell and was unfamiliar with the man's exacting standards. Dr. Chilton couldn't be bothered with the minutiae of such a mundane task, so he fussed prissily with his sleeves.

Before long, Will was inside the cell again, watching while Hannibal was maneuvered through the door and made to stand against the wall. The guards disconnected their catch poles, pulled their weapons from their holsters, and backed slowly out of the cell, locking the door behind them.

“Finally,” Dr. Chilton said, apparently relieved. Without waiting, he turned on his heel and marched away, the tip of his cane tapping on the floor.

Will went to Hannibal, the true mates exchanging a meaningful look as Will removed the wide leather belt around Hannibal's waist. As much as Will wished he could kiss his alpha then, he stepped away and placed the belt in the pass-through box while Hannibal put his hands through the air hole so Barney could remove the handcuffs. "Excuse me," Hannibal said politely, retreating behind the privacy screen to use the restroom.

Barney gathered up the restraints and returned to the guard's desk. Matthew was still there, of course, watching the omega intently. "Next time, we'll go on a walk in the garden, weather permitting, of course," he said.

Will heard Hannibal return to the central part of the cell, but he didn't dare turn his attention from his objective to greet his mate. "That sounds great," Will told Matthew. "Maybe I'll bring a book and read outside."

“Picnic outside!” Matthew cheered, boyish enthusiasm taking a momentary hold of the orderly.

Hannibal snorted quietly in amusement, and Will resisted the impulse to smile in agreement. “That sounds nice,” Will said. He purposefully placed his fingers through the air hole and wiggled them invitingly at Matthew.

Matthew couldn't resist, gripping Will's hand securely but gently. Then he dropped his head to kiss the back of Will's hand. "Until then," Matthew said grandly, making a sweeping gesture as he backed away, leaving Will and Hannibal alone in the cell.

Will went to the sink to wash his hands, a routine he had developed after close contact with Matthew. The alpha orderly couldn't object to Will washing his hands. It was just good hygiene.

When Will returned to the central part of the cell, he found Hannibal sitting on his own bed. Will climbed into his nest and studied his alpha for several minutes. The alpha's hair was tousled, with one tress falling into his eyes. If Will stared long enough, Hannibal would go out of focus and begin to resemble a carved marble statue. And, were those antlers on his head? Blinking a few times until the world came back into focus, Will wondered if the thoughts going through his mate’s head were as mixed as his own. In any case, he didn’t attempt to pry. Hannibal deserved as much private thought as Will.

The men were quiet during this time as they studied each other, but it wasn't an uncomfortable silence. Instead, they savored being reunited after their short separation and took comfort in beloved scents.

Eventually, Will asked, "How was it?"

"Surprisingly illuminating," Hannibal said cryptically. He couldn't speak to Will openly about what he learned due to the cameras, but he hoped Hannibal would elaborate. "I'm surprised at the level of thought Frederick put into his accommodations," Hannibal added. His tone left little doubt that the "level" he was referring to was nowhere near as sound as it should be.

If one didn't know Hannibal, they might think he was simply delivering an insult to a man he obviously detested. However, Will knew Hannibal was actually telling him that escaping the BSHCI would be simple. Hannibal also implied that Dr. Chilton had not taken all the necessary precautions to keep his most infamous resident behind walls of glass and stone.

Will smiled and settled more comfortably into his nest, his thoughts brimming with hope. They were both working toward their goal and making progress. Will redoubled his resolve to make his dreams a reality.

The cogs were starting to turn. Hannibal and he would be free one day, a day not too far in the future. It was only a matter of time.

Then, they would hunt.

🔪🔪

Chapter Text

Will floated in profound darkness, like a fetus in the womb. He could easily make out his own form despite the apparent lack of light, but beyond his own body, there was nothing. A vast emptiness spread out in all directions, with Will seemingly at its center. The temperature was neither too hot nor too cold, and although it was quiet, it wasn't silent. A sense of anticipation hovered in the air, like the rumble of waves crashing against the coast, and like that shoreline, Will felt battered. His muscles ached, and his thoughts reverberated with the urge to flee or fight, an exhausting choice that wreaked havoc on mind and body alike.

It's interesting how some facts, once learned, stick inside one's head and become more meaningful over time. For example, Will learned that Siddhartha Gautama, known as the Buddha, discovered the truth about suffering centuries ago and used that insight to preach the path of enlightenment to his followers. Despite not being a religious person, the origins of Buddhism stuck with Will long after his high school world history class had ended. At the time, he didn't foresee becoming intimately familiar with the concept of suffering, but pain had become one of Will's most dependable friends. It was a force as inexorable as gravity that he had no hope of escaping. It always lurked beyond sight: ominous and looming.

Without warning, Will's vision expanded. The sensation was akin to opening one's eyes in the shade after squinting in full sun. Unfortunately, the widened field of vision did not bring any additional clarity. Instead of darkness, ill-defined shapes surrounded Will. Only colors were recognizable. Being surrounded by a kaleidoscope of colors was not the fun experience one would expect. It was suffocating.

Will’s attention was caught when a gray figure emerged from the mosaic. It loomed in front of him, edges blurry and out of focus. It was human-shaped, but that was as much as Will could make out.

If Will tried to move closer, the ominous shape would evade him, staying just out of reach while managing to be far too close for comfort. Will backed away, trying to create some distance, but the silhouette stayed doggedly with him, even attempting to strike him with vaguely defined limbs. Will was forced to duck or dodge to avoid contact, which instinct and long habit had told him would be unwise to allow. Will and the figure danced around each other, pulled together and pushed apart, back and forth, like a pendulum swinging.

A dull roar rose from the silence, filling Will’s ears. Disembodied grunts and pained wails came from everywhere and nowhere, only overwhelming him further. Will realized he was screaming too, his voice adding to the cacophony instead of blocking it out.

Will began to spiral, lost in a maelstrom of indecision, fury, and concern he would never find his way out again. Then, suddenly, Hannibal was there, wading into the morass like a mythical hero of old. His presence was darker than the gray shadow Will had been facing; so dark, in fact, that he seemed to absorb all the light and colors surrounding them, excepting Will's own mysterious illumination. Will could tell it was Hannibal, even with the lack of light. When only the two of them remained in the space, Hannibal tilted his head back to howl in victory. Will caught a glimpse of antlers rising from the alpha's head. However, when Hannibal's gaze rested on Will again, the antlers were gone, and Will assumed it had been his imagination.

Hannibal approached Will, and Will didn’t hesitate to fall into his arms. The contact between their bodies felt solid, and Will clung to Hannibal for his physical and figurative stability. After a moment, the ground fell away, and their feet no longer touched the floor. Gravity had vanished, much like the flooring, and there was no way to tell up from down. They could have been floating, spinning, or rolling, but Will had no notion. His internal compass pointed to Hannibal as his true north, so as long as they were together, Will didn’t feel lost. The darkness from earlier closed in again, enveloping both men. The uneasy feeling did not return, though. Secure in Hannibal’s arms, Will lapsed into a state of blissful oblivion, surrounded by peace and serenity, until he was jolted from his lassitude by the piercing drone of the morning buzzer.

When Will opened his eyes to the familiar surroundings of Hannibal’s cell, he felt better than he had in some time. His nest was more comfortable than usual, warmer, too. He stretched slightly, burrowed his head deeper into the pillow, and sighed. I might just go back to sleep for a little while, he thought languidly.

As Will slipped into a doze, he felt an arm tighten around his waist and a nose snuffling the back of his neck. Will's first instinct was to hum happily and wiggle closer to his mate. There was no one else it could be; only the combined scents of himself and Hannibal surrounded them. But as the implications of their situation ran through his mind, Will froze. Turning his head slowly, Will saw his alpha spooning him from behind. What is Hannibal doing in our nest? Will wondered. They had privately agreed to sleep separately until the alpha was free. "Hannibal?" Will called loudly enough to wake the slumbering man but not startle him.

At the sound of Will's voice, Hannibal went from asleep to alert in a moment. After a quick glance around, he stretched languidly, arm still wrapped firmly around Will's waist. "Good morning, Will. How did you sleep?" Hannibal greeted. His voice was as calm and unconcerned as ever.

"Fine, I suppose. I'm just a little surprised to find you in our…I mean, my nest," Will said, hoping no outside observers would notice his slip. Hannibal squeezed Will's middle briefly before leveraging himself smoothly out of bed. Will couldn't help but be a little jealous of the alpha's athleticism. Despite his improved diet, Will was still slender and couldn't hope to match Hannibal's upper body strength. It was a rare omega who had any hope of besting an alpha with sheer brute strength, but fortunately, omegas had other options.

“You had a particularly intractable night terror,” Hannibal replied placidly. He retreated to the rear of the cell to use the facilities.

Will waited until the sound of running water stopped before asking, “You couldn’t wake me up?”

“Honestly, I did not attempt it,” Hannibal admitted, still behind the curtain. When he emerged several minutes later, his hair was combed and his clothes straightened. “Was I in error?” Hannibal asked serenely then, as if equally prepared to receive reprimand or praise.

Will wanted to gape at his alpha. Surely, Hannibal had not forgotten this crucial part of their plan. True, cuddling with Hannibal had proven the most effective method for reducing or eliminating the frequency of his nightmares, and Will was pleased that his alpha took action and did not allow him to wallow in fear. However, the habit could undermine their plans and raise doubts in Matthew’s mind.

Thankfully, a telling twinkle in Hannibal's eyes reassured Will that it was all part of Hannibal's design. Will considered the question then, as well as what his mate's true intention was behind asking it. Though they had agreed to stop sharing the nest, they had never discussed the choice where it could be overheard by person or microphone. This was their chance to make it "official" for the benefit of their observers. Will having the opportunity to request the change himself was an added bonus.

"I see," Will said slowly, as if deep in thought. He pulled his glasses down from the shelf above his bed and put them on to buy additional time to think. Hannibal's focus on Will intensified, and a subtle warning laced through the alpha's scent. Will hoped his next words would further Hannibal's plan instead of impeding it. "I'm grateful for your unwavering support, Hannibal, but I think it's about time I learn to cope with these things on my own," Will said sincerely. "You won't always be there to help me, after all," he added as an afterthought.

Hannibal’s stare was piercing but approving. He nodded, then turned his back to straighten his bed, where he had slept the previous evening until awakened by Will’s nightmare. “You’re right, of course,” Hannibal said, pulling up the blanket and tucking in the corners. “Your recovery has been impressive, but it is time for us to focus on your next steps,” Hannibal said.

“What steps are those?” Will asked, standing from his nest. He made a beeline for the privacy curtain, no longer able to put off emptying his bladder.

Hannibal waited until Will returned before speaking. "We should focus on the skills that will be useful to you outside of these walls," the alpha said, indicating their surroundings. "I will continue to assist you, of course, but you should consider utilizing a second Support Alpha. Someone with a home outside the BSHCI would be helpful as you transition to community life."

"That's probably easier said than done. Do you know how many alpha scents I had to go through before I found yours?" Will asked, throwing his hands up theatrically.

Hannibal tilted his head and studied Will intently. “Are there any other alphas you know and trust? Perhaps they would become Support Alpha certified, then you won’t be faced with a stranger who knows nothing about you.”

Will looked down and scuffed his bare foot against the concrete floor. “Well, maybe… there is one alpha,” Will said quietly. He glanced shyly, though meaningfully, at the security camera.

Hannibal merely nodded, “You are welcome to utilize my stationary if you need to write a letter.”

“Okay,” Will said, biting his lip in apparent nervousness. He really hoped Matthew was watching the camera footage live or would watch the recording soon.

Hannibal was still studying Will when the squeak of the food cart was heard down the hall. “Why don’t you take a shower to clear your head?” Hannibal suggested then. “We can eat afterward, then find a quiet way to pass the time until they come to fetch me for a turn about the gymnasium.”

Instead of replying, Will nodded and then gathered a change of clothes before retreating to the rear of the cell to follow Hannibal’s suggestion.

🔪 🔪

That afternoon, Matthew tapped Will on the shoulder as he exited the elevator behind Hannibal and his armed escort. “Hey,” the orderly greeted with a nervous grin. “How about that picnic?”

Will managed to catch Hannibal's eye before the guards holding catchpoles led him into the gymnasium. The look that passed between them was all the sanction Will needed. He turned back to Matthew and smiled bashfully, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. "I'd like that. I even brought a book," he said, holding up a paperback.

“Great!” Matthew said, a little too enthusiastically for the circumstances. Will took it as a good sign when the orderly held out an arm for Will before leading him down a side hallway to a pair of glass doors. There was a loud click of the locks disengaging after Matthew swiped his employee badge by the keypad. He then held a door graciously open for Will, indicating the omega should precede him.

The first thing Will noticed after stepping outside was the gleam of razor wire sitting atop imposing concrete walls. The garden area boasted no landscaping, but some leggy shrubs were strategically grouped together in places, and there was a sidewalk one could follow as it twisted among patches of weed-filled grass. In the center of the "lawn" was a wooden gazebo, its boards gray and weather-worn.

Despite the paltry landscaping, Will's head was on a swivel as he took in his surroundings. Sunlight, grass, and fresh air were in short supply during both his captivity and his stay with Hannibal. Being surrounded by those elements, even in Dr. Chilton's sad excuse for a garden, was therapeutic.

A warm hand taking his own brought Will out of his reverie. Matthew smiled charmingly, tucked Will's hand into his elbow, and patted Will's fingers gently. It happened so quickly that Will didn't have time to react. Thankfully, the orderly took his silence as assent. "Our food is waiting in the gazebo," Matthew said, pointing at the wooden pavilion. "But for now, would you like to take a stroll?"

“I’d like that very much,” Will said, smiling at Matthew and pushing away a pang of regret that he could not share the experience with his alpha. The mates would have plenty of opportunities to share such an activity in the future; they just needed to take care of some inconveniences first. Hannibal, no doubt, would take him to beautiful, picturesque places that couldn’t even be put in the same category as BSHCI’s lamentable attempt at greenery. He tried to keep that in mind as he allowed Matthew to lead him along the cracked sidewalk to look at shrubs in desperate need of a trim.

Will absorbed as much of his surroundings as possible. Although he appreciated the time spent enjoying nature, he also used the opportunity to survey the garden's layout and mentally note any potential vulnerabilities. He planned to describe the garden to his alpha later. Overhead, the sky was blue without any clouds to be seen. The sun's heat was abated by a gentle breeze that graced the interior courtyard with light airflow. Though the grass was far from impressive, some of the weeds still managed to bring joy. Fuzzy dandelion seeds floated in the air, seeking a place to grow. Bees zoomed between patches of clover, landing gracefully on the petals to dine on the nectar and pollen offered by the flowers.

Matthew led them to a metal bench overlooking a bare patch of dirt and sat on it, pulling Will down beside him. "What do you think?" Matthew asked, indicating their surroundings.

"It's nice to be outside," Will admitted. He set his book on the bench and leaned back, face tilted towards the sun and eyes closed. Will sighed contentedly, enjoying the summer warmth on his face before peeking at his companion. Matthew was staring unabashedly at him. His expression was so admiring that Will had to resist the urge to glance behind himself to see who the alpha was staring at.

“With your head tipped back like that, you looked just like a proud hawk, ready to take to the sky,” Matthew said.

Will wasn't quite sure how to take that comment, but the orderly's tone was complimentary, and his expression was approving. "Thank you. Do you like birds?" he asked curiously.

“I like hawks. I think you and I share several traits with them,” Matthew said, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees.

“Oh? Like what?” Will asked. He knew more about creatures that swam in rivers than those that flew through the air.

“We are all solitary creatures: you, me, and the hawks. We are strong but can only do so much alone. However, if we were to stick together, we would be unstoppable,” Matthew said passionately, much like a pastor hell-bent on saving the souls of his congregation.

"I… I see," Will said thoughtfully. The pair lapsed into a comfortable silence, two solitary creatures occupying the same bench simultaneously. Will wracked his brain for a way to bring up Hannibal's suggestion. Before he came up with an idea, Matthew spoke again, breaking his train of thought.

“How are things going with Dr. Lecter?” Matthew asked, looking away as if uninterested in the answer, but the way his body leaned closer to Will gave him away.

“Fine,” Will said cautiously. “Why do you ask?”

Matthew moved, angling his body towards the omega and placing an arm along the back of the bench behind Will's shoulders. "I just wanted to make sure he's respecting you and your boundaries," Matthew said, looking at him searchingly.

Will blinked several times before answering. Matthew had plainly seen the video footage from earlier, and that was just what Will was hoping for. Will leaned closer to Matthew, stopping just short of pressing up against the other alpha's side, and hoped the move had been smooth enough to seem instinctive. "Hannibal has been a great Support Alpha, and I know I wouldn't have recovered as quickly with anyone else," Will said truthfully. "But now we both think I'm ready to take the next step. To be honest, I'm scared though. I can't imagine managing everything that is involved with living on my own. Hannibal suggested a second Support Alpha could help me transition to life outside, but I dread starting over with someone new."

Will glanced surreptitiously at the orderly to judge his reaction to that little speech. Matthew's expression was glazed but focused as if deep in thought. Will decided the alpha needed another nudge in the right direction. "I'll need to come back here regularly, of course, to continue my therapy with Hannibal, so my second Support Alpha has to be comfortable enough to bring me here. Not many people want to go to a hospital filled with disturbed criminals-" Will trailed off, then sighed theatrically. "It's a tall order…finding someone I trust, who is comfortable here, and who is okay with me living in their house…" Will sighed again. "I doubt there are many alphas, much less Support Alphas, like that." Will scuffed the dirt with this shoe, sending a small pebble flying.

Matthew was silent, and his face was pinched in thought, much like a video buffering before it would play. Then his eyes widened, and he turned excitedly to Will. “I could be your Support Alpha!’ he blurted eagerly. “I-I-I mean if you want me to be. I’m not approved, of course, but I can apply. I’m sure I’ll be approved, and then you can come live with me, and we can be two hawks together!” Matthew continued ardently.

Will couldn't help but smile, an expression Matthew returned even more breathlessly than before. The orderly probably assumed Will was grinning in response to his declaration, but Will was actually marveling at Hannibal's genius. Hannibal was cunning, shrewd, and devious. Whether through natural insight or training, Hannibal knew Matthew required additional incentive to align with their plan. The staged discussion Hannibal initiated that morning was precisely calculated to obtain this result. Hannibal might be a cannibalistic serial killer, but no one could dispute his skill at reading other people.

An outside observer might look at the situation and condemn Hannibal's unscrupulous manipulation of Will and, ultimately, Matthew, but Will saw only devotion. He resolved to do what was necessary for his mate's plan to succeed.

Matthew was still talking avidly when Will focused on him again, and Will allowed Matthew to continue uninterrupted until he ran out of words and sat there gasping as if he had sprinted up a flight of stairs.

Well, it's now or never, Will thought. He had cast a line and successfully lured in his prey. The hook was waiting to be set. Several options were available, but Matthew was cunning enough to see through an overplayed hand. Will had to forge a novel path between the orderly's mental defenses and sink roots into the cracks of the alpha's psyche like English ivy. Will hardly needed his empathy to sense Matthew's damage, and Will would use that weakness to his advantage.

Will formulated a plan utilizing what he knew about the orderly. It was either genius or would backfire spectacularly, forcing Will to scramble to reclaim lost ground. There was only one way to find out. Will angled himself until he could stare deeply into Matthew's eyes. The orderly gazed back like his whole world hinged on Will's next word. Will opened his mouth, and Matthew leaned forward slightly in unconscious anticipation.

Taking a deep breath, Will said, “Caw, caw.”

Silence. For a moment, neither of them spoke nor moved. Matthew’s brows slowly crinkled in confusion, and Will wondered if he had broken the orderly. Then, Matthew’s eyes widened, and he started to laugh. Shit, I broke him, Will thought, frantically considering options to fix his blunder.

But before Will could speak, the arm resting along the back on the bench was suddenly draped over his shoulder, and Matthew tugged him against his side. Still chuckling, the alpha wiped his eyes and shook his head fondly. “You get points for trying, Will, but that’s the sound a crow makes, not a hawk.”

“Oh, of… of course,” Will said sheepishly, more relieved than he probably should have been. His decision to inject levity into their conversation had been successful. Matthew’s eagerness was muffled without diminishing its underlying cause. If possible, Will wanted to avoid directly implying any profound connection between them, but he would subtly encourage Matthew’s assumptions.

He was also pleased that his pitiful attempt at a hawk's screech was equated to a crow's caw. Traditionally, crows symbolize wisdom, intuition, and coming change, concepts that resonated greatly with Will.

Matthew’s amusement faded, but his smile remained. “I might have gotten a bit carried away, but what do you think of my suggestion?” he asked, his thumb rubbing Will’s shoulder softly.

“It’s just what I was hoping for,” Will answered honestly.

“Yeah? Well, I’ll sign up this afternoon, then. I wonder how long the process will take?” Matthew said.

“I’m not sure,” Will said with a shrug. He could talk to Hannibal about it, but he had no idea what was required to become a Support Alpha.

“I’ll worry about it later. For now, let’s eat!” Matthew said happily. He stood and held out a hand for Will. Will picked up his book and accepted the orderly’s hand, allowing the man to pull him to his feet. Thankfully, Matthew dropped his hand soon after he was upright.

Together the men sought the relative shade of the gazebo. A prison-issued blanket was spread over the wooden boards with a kitchen lunch tray wrapped in cling wrap and a well-worn reusable lunch sack awaiting them. Will sat on the blanket, though it didn't provide much padding between his backside and the floor. Beneath the cling film was a vegetarian bean and rice burrito freshly prepared by the kitchen staff. The smell of cilantro made his mouth water. Matthew, meanwhile, pulled a bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwich from his lunchbox. They chatted while they ate, and then Matthew sat quietly watching the bees while Will opened his book to read.

The orderly stretched his lunch break for as long as he could. Then, he gathered their lunch items and stood. "I need to get back, or Dr. Chilton won't be happy. I'm supposed to supervise the rec room on the third floor after lunch," he said.

Will closed his book and stood. Matthew picked up the blanket and threw it over his shoulder, leaving Will responsible only for his reading material. "This was nice," Will said honestly. It had been nice to be outside, even if he longed for different surroundings and company.

"We'll do it again, then," Matthew said, awkwardly swiping his badge with full hands at the building's entrance. Will held the door open for the orderly, earning a grateful smile. Matthew escorted Will to the gymnasium where Hannibal was being prepared for the return trip to the secure prisoners ward. With a word of farewell and a pointed promise to see Will again soon, Matthew left to return to his duties.

Will and Hannibal remained primarily quiet as they were escorted back to their cell. They resumed their usual activities, not speaking of their separate lunchtime pursuits, except for a single exchange during dinner. It was sprinkled in among other topics and its meaning would not be detected by anyone watching.

“Did you make much progress on your book during lunch?” Hannibal asked perfunctorily. He used a spork to eat his cobb salad with an imperial grace unexpected in such surroundings.

Will picked up the thin paper napkin and wiped his lips with much less charm. "Yes, the plot is unfolding just how you predicted. The setting is interesting, though," he added with a wink.

🔪🔪

The following week, Bella Crawford pulled into a parking space outside the BSHCI. Shifting her car into the park, she took a deep breath and looked at her briefcase, which was sitting innocuously on the passenger seat. The corner of a folder protruded from the main pocket, displaying a carelessness that would concern anyone who knew Bella well. How can something so commonplace feel so menacing? she wondered. Of course, it wasn't the folder itself that was alarming, but the potential consequences of its contents.

She had thought nothing of it when Alana handed her the folder that morning and sought her opinion. The request wasn't uncommon, as Alana often asked for her feedback. However, as Bella reviewed the potential Support Alpha's application, dread increased, overwhelming her feelings until she was forced to set aside her initial reaction to judge the situation objectively. After all, Bella was known for her professionalism and compassion, and she refused to rely solely on emotions when making a decision. Logic and the well-being of others had to be paramount.

Clearing her throat decidedly, she pulled the folder from her bag and flipped through the pages again. It didn't contain anything she hadn't seen in countless other folders. There was a Support Alpha application for one Matthew Brown, a letter of recommendation from a Dr. Abel Gideon, a photograph of the prospective alpha whose face Bella knew well, a completed home study, and a scent sample. Mr. Brown had completed in a week a process that took most prospective support alphas months.

Her eyes zeroed in on one of the questions: Explain your motivation for becoming a Support Alpha. Mr. Brown had written:

I am employed as an orderly at the Boston State Hospital for the Criminally Insane. I have gotten to know Will Graham, a client of the ORC who is partnered with an inmate at the facility. After spending time with Mr. Graham, I believe that I am the right alpha to assist with his continued recovery, specifically his transition from the care of his current support alpha to life in the outside world. Because I work where his current Support Alpha lives, I can easily allow him access to his first Support Alpha if it is deemed advisable to receive care from both of us. I am willing and able to go through the training required of a Support Alpha, and I pledge to do my utmost to see Mr. Graham recover as fully as he can.

Matthew Brown had proven tenacious, but how would things shake out when Hannibal learned another alpha was seeking stewardship of his current charge? In any case, Bella wasn't a woman well-acquainted with fear, but she was old friends with caution. Her demeanor could potentially influence the men she intended to speak to, so it was paramount that she maintain her impartiality and perspective. Tucking the folder back into her bag, Bella opened the car door and stepped out, briefcase in hand. A moment later, she was walking towards the BSHCI, her gait slower than usual due to undergoing radiation and chemotherapies, but her countenance was no less strong.

The dreary lobby offered little respite, but Bella wasn’t expecting to find comfort in such an austere place. A short time later, she was exiting the elevator on the secure prisoner’s floor. Barney greeted her warmly, told her a chair was awaiting her opposite Hannibal and Will’s cell, and then buzzed her through. Once on the ward, Bella concealed any signs of unease and ignored the calls and screams of the inmates she passed.

"Bella!" Will called as soon as she was in view, and his happy tone put her instantly at ease, something no one that day had been able to do. Part of it was Will himself, and part was his omega nature, which was exerting itself more and more under Hannibal's attentive care. It was a definite sign of recovery, and she wondered if Will's rehabilitation would slow or stall with another Support Alpha. However, she also knew Will's recovery could improve even more while working with Matthew. It was a possibility she could not dismiss out of hand.

"Hi, Will," Bella said, her best smile rising naturally to her lips. She had never felt so protective or fond of her patients before, and it wasn't just because Will was one of the most traumatized omegas she had encountered in her line of work. It was Will himself: to know him was to love him, and it didn't seem that anyone was immune, save for the sadistic bastard who hurt him in the first place. Sitting in the provided chair, she crossed her ankles and set the briefcase beside her. She pulled out a notebook and pen, then leaned back to study Will.

Will scrutinized her carefully, a habit he had adopted shortly after arriving at the BSHCI. When the behavior first emerged, it was a welcome development, and Bella credited Hannibal's experience for bringing Will's natural omega nurturing to the fore.

As usual, Will obscured his scrutiny by commenting on her wardrobe. “Your clothes may say ‘glamor’ and ‘sophistication,’ but your shoes say ‘bunions,’” he said, feigning disinterest and referring to her black, peep-toe slingbacks.

“There’s surgery for that,” Bella dismissed offhandedly, casually smoothing the lapels of her perfectly-tailored gold blazer. “I always say: ‘Do well. Live well. And dress very well,’” she added.

They both chuckled at the exchange. “It’s so good to see you, Will,” she said, beginning with small talk to help Will feel at ease.

“You, too. How are you feeling?” he asked, concern apparent.

"I have good and bad days, but overall, I am doing well. The doctors say signs are hopeful, so I'll keep doing what they recommend," she said, summarizing the situation as concisely as she could. She didn't want to discuss her bouts of nausea or the hallowed look in her husband's eyes when she was too weak to get out of bed. The days following a chemo treatment were brutal, especially in comparison to the red patches of peeling skin left behind by the radiation therapy.

Bella was ready to move on and purposefully changed her demeanor. With a subtle shift of expression and squaring her shoulders, she signaled the start of Will's therapy session. "Are you enjoying the books?" she asked leadingly, smoothly directing the conversation away from her health.

Thankfully, Will easily picked up on the new conversation. "I am. I'm halfway through one of the dog training books, and I've read several of the mysteries," Will said. He described the plot of one of the stories that had particularly intrigued him.

Bella smiled. It was good to see Will so enthusiastic. “It sounds like those have been keeping you busy. Just let me know when you are ready for more,” she said, closing that topic before moving on. “So? Catch me up. What’s new with Will Graham?” she asked. If Bella had known what was coming, she may not have asked that question in such a flippant tone.

“Well, Hannibal has been granted weekly exercise sessions in the gymnasium. I either go with him, or I walk around the hospital with one of the orderlies, Matthew Brown,” Will said.

“I see,” Bella said, nodding as she made a hurried note. This was the perfect opportunity to ask Will about Matthew Brown and his impressions of him.

However, before she could ask, Will moved on to another topic, one that definitely warranted her attention. “My hormones seem to be regulating more quickly than we expected... I had a pseudo-heat, but it didn't last long, and Hannibal was able to help me through it.”

Bella froze before she could stop herself. Putting everything else aside, the thought of knowingly having sex with the Chesapeake Ripper made her skin crawl. But, of course, the situation was far more complex than that. The biological imperatives that drove alphas and omegas were more powerful than any single individual.

Besides, few people would deny the sensual appeal of each man. Will, though masculine in every way, had a particular delicacy about him that was irresistible. Hannibal, on the other hand, radiated a dark confidence that spoke of ample sexual experience.

Bella glanced over at Hannibal to see if he had any reaction to the disclosure, but the alpha was sitting placidly at the table, working on one of his sketches. He expertly feigned disinterest in their conversation, though Bella knew he was absorbing every word.

Turning her attention back to Will, she said, “I know you and Hannibal discussed the possibility of a pseudo-heat occurring and how you wanted him to handle such a situation. Now that it’s happened, how do you feel about it?”

“Honestly, I’m… hopeful, relieved,” Will said.

Bella was buoyed by his answer. The vulnerability experienced during a heat could sometimes trigger a setback in recovery, and Bella would spare Will any further obstacles if it was within her power. “I’m glad to hear it, Will,” she said, leaning forward and catching his eye so he knew she was sincere. The gesture was the best she could manage with the glass between them.

Will returned her eye contact meaningfully and nodded in appreciation.

Straightening again, Bella crossed one knee over the other. “Can you tell me why the experience makes you feel relieved?” she asked, pen poised over her notebook.

“In many ways, I feel like I have found myself and my purpose in life,” Will began. He noticed Bella’s smile and returned it. “Don’t laugh!” he admonished, chuckling to himself. “I’m more grounded in my omega identity now. I feel like it isn’t simply a matter of genetics. It is ordained.”

Bella nodded as Will spoke and jotted down a couple of notes. “Those are powerful emotions. I’m glad your experience was so positive. You’ve seen that even though a heat, in theory, can be a time of vulnerability, with a trusted partner, it is a position of strength,” she said. “And why does all of this make you feel hopeful?”

“Because it means I am recovering faster than expected. I’ll be able to take the next step soon so I can move toward independence,” Will said.

“Excellent!” Bella said, her happiness genuine. “Have there been any alterations in your relationship with Hannibal?” she asked perfunctorily. The expected answer was that Hannibal and Will had grown closer, but she was astonished to learn that the pair had discussed it and decided to purposefully distance themselves from each other. She listened to Will explain the outcome of the decision but not its reasoning.

“Why-” Bella began before trailing off. She cleared her throat and started again, “What prompted your decision?”

"Well, we had a lot of time to talk afterward," Will said, stressing the last word and raising his eyebrows meaningfully. Bella was unsure at first but then realized Will meant after his pseudo-heat. Unaware of her momentary confusion, Will continued, "I told Hannibal I was grateful for his help. He talked about how well I was doing and listed all my improvements. I realized how far I've come. I'm not healed yet, of course. I feel like I still need support, and I'm not ready to be on my own, but I think there is another intermediate step I could take between my stay here and moving into a place of my own. Unfortunately, Hannibal can't help me with that transition, even though we both wish he could."

"I've actually been meaning to talk to you about finding another Support Alpha for me to stay with. I'm not sure how much trouble that would be. It took a while for me to pick Hannibal, and I really lucked out with him since he's a psychiatrist and all. I doubt I'll get so lucky a second time. Maybe we can keep in touch. Do you think they will grant him phone privileges?" he asked hopefully.

Bella was too busy processing all of that information to respond right away. What an incredible stroke of good luck! By some happy coincidence, Will was ready for a second Support Alpha just as Matthew Brown applied to become one, a man who, on paper met all the criteria to best assist Will Graham.

Eventually, the unlikelihood of this "coincidence" registered in her mind. Was it really as serendipitous as it seemed? Bella looked sharply at Hannibal, who watched her with an unreadable expression. Bella might not have the same experience and specialization as Dr. Lecter, but she was well aware of the Chesapeake Ripper's manipulation skills.

Is it really manipulation if the intended target (her) saw through the game?

Despite how detached Hannibal pretended to be, there was still a certain amount of possessiveness in this scenario. Not that she could really fault him. Her limited conversations with Matthew Brown had given the impression of an earnest young man who was eager to please. Certainly, he was a man who could be trusted to chauffeur Will around town and slowly expose him to different social situations.

Hannibal’s machinations were amusing, and Bella was inclined to go along with them because Hannibal had been successful with Will’s treatment thus far. She wholeheartedly believed he had Will’s best interests in mind. The other omegas he had been partnered with had achieved independence with his help. He had played a pivotal role in several of the Omega Rehabilitation Center’s success stories, and he was the central figure on which her boss, Dr. Alana Bloom, based her belief that partnering traumatized omegas with convicted felons would benefit them both.

In light of that, Bella was even more inclined to approve this contrived scenario. She wanted what was best for Will, and he seemed so happy. She glanced down at her briefcase. The corner of the folder containing Matthew Brown's Support Alpha application didn't seem so ominous anymore. Bella pulled the folder from her bag, placed it on her lap, and opened it. "I think I have the perfect answer," she said with a broad smile. She explained Matthew's application and specified his approval was contingent on Matthew completing all the required training classes.

It wasn't until she passed Matthew's scent sample through the air hole to Will as a formality that she locked eyes with Dr. Lecter. His expression was as variable as the sky, all at once, calculating, genial, and exultant. In some ways, Bella had made a deal with the devil. But what if she and the devil were on the same side? Life was fragile. After her run-in with cancer, she knew that better than most. Consequently, she was more inclined to act on her emotions, or perhaps she was just weak regarding these two men? One had become her friend, and the other had saved her life.

In either case, her lot was cast, and she had a part to play in Hannibal’s game. Though she was an ally of sorts, her piece was now on the board, and it was her turn to move. Pushing her thoughts aside, she focused on her patient sitting on the opposite side of the glass. Her devotion to Will’s recovery had not wavered.

"What…What do you think about Matthew, Will?" Bella asked. She listened intently as the omega detailed his time alone with the orderly. If what Will said was any indication, Matthew was already displaying several of the behaviors required of Support Alphas.

"And what do you think, Hannibal?" Bella asked when Will had finished speaking. She felt foolish for expecting a negative reaction from the cool and collected Hannibal Lecter, but she could have been knocked over with a feather when Hannibal said, "I think it's an excellent idea."

"You… you do?" she asked, quite flabbergasted. The use of the word "excellent" seemed almost over the top for the enigmatic man.

“Well, of course. A second Support Alpha will allow Will to make progress on his goals beyond what he can manage here. And because Matthew is employed at the BSHCI, Will can easily accompany him to work so we can continue his therapy.”

Hannibal selected his words with care, Bella knew. She might not have Will's empathy but she was an intuitive woman. Something was happening that she could not see. Still, what harm could there be? Hannibal was incarcerated, and if there were any issues, Will could simply stop visiting the man. Besides, if Hannibal felt like he had orchestrated Will's handoff, it would prevent the nightmare hostage scenario she had entertained earlier that morning.

"Well, it's not a sure thing," Bella said. To anyone watching, it would look like she was stalling for time. "Alana is still considering it; of course, it will depend on how he performs during training. Ultimately, nothing will happen without Will's approval."

"Would you be so kind as to let me review his application?" Hannibal asked, holding out a hand expectantly.

Bella hesitated before putting the folder into the pass-thru box. Hannibal was a gifted psychiatrist, even if he was a convicted murderer, and Bella would not discount his knowledge and training simply because of his crimes. Besides, he was closer to Will than she was and was in the best position to assess whether Matthew was a good fit for his charge.

When Hannibal retrieved the folder and spread its contents over the table, Will joined him to review the provided documentation. While Will looked through the home study, Hannibal read the letter of recommendation. It was written by a Dr. Abel Gideon, a man with impressive credentials, even if Bella was not acquainted with him. "Do you know Dr. Gideon by any chance?" she asked, directing her comment to Hannibal.

“Yes, he is a highly gifted surgeon of my acquaintance. Mr. Brown must have made an impression on the good doctor to earn such high praise,” Hannibal said.

“Well, that is reassuring, at least,” Bella said with a sigh at the mountain of subtext hidden behind Hannibal’s words that she had no hope of deciphering.

She looked over at Will. He was enthusiastic and determined. How had this scruffy omega wormed his way into her heart so thoroughly? "You're a troublemaker!" she accused fondly.

When Will looked back at her, the corners of his lips were raised in a broad smile, and his eyes were almost…proud? “I adore you, too,” he said.

🔪 🔪

Chapter Text

Floor: Violent Prisoner's Ward
Staff: Barney Matthews, Head Orderly
Inmate Number/Name: B5160-8; Lecter, Hannibal (Dr.)
Re: Daily Report

Attachments: Security_Feed_Lecter.mp4

Omega Will Graham and inmate Dr. Lecter’s relationship has shifted into an aloof camaraderie. Dr. Lecter continues to perform his Support Alpha duties diligently, but they are more perfunctory than previously noted. Mr. Graham takes his therapy seriously and appears to have improved greatly. They are focused on Mr. Graham’s recovery above all else. The tone and quality of conversations within the above-noted cell have likewise changed, remaining friendly but solely focused on the work at hand. See the attached security video for additional details.

The illustrious Dr. Frederick Chilton sighed gustily and leaned back in his chair, defeated. With a few clicks of his mouse, he closed the video and Barney's latest report. Unfortunately, Frederick’s gloom could not be wiped away as quickly. An aura of intense dissatisfaction permeated Chilton’s office, much like the odor of burnt popcorn. He just couldn’t explain why Hannibal's interest in Will had waned. Everything seemed to be going so well, and then… Well, Frederick didn’t know, but what he did know is that the discussions taking place inside Hannibal’s cell of glass and stone had shifted from riveting and enriching to banal and overly intellectual, much too stodgy in either case for the genius of Dr. Chilton to deign to decipher. Neither Barney's regular reports nor the accompanying security footage from inside the cell brought any further clarity. Hannibal's humming, scent marking, and territorial displays had ended seemingly overnight, and the cause vexed Chilton greatly.

Pushing those concerns from his mind, Chilton turned his attention to the other messages in his inbox. There was an order confirmation for beta male enhancement pills, a letter of censure from the State ethics board detailing several violations, and an advertisement from an airline recommending he take a vacation somewhere tropical. Of the three messages, only the order confirmation stirred any sense of excitement. He was tempted to move the letter from the ethics board to his junk email folder, but it was the second such letter he had received and probably shouldn’t be ignored. He moved his mouse to open the message, his mood sinking even further until he spotted... oh, happy day... a message from his editor.

Dismissing the ethical complaint completely, Chilton clicked on the new message with a smug grin, anticipating praise or additional royalties, but his smirk quickly became a scowl. Disguised as an unassuming follow-up, his ungrateful editor demanded an update on Frederick’s writing progress, even going so far as to threaten the withdrawal of support for subsequent titles if results weren't produced soon! Frederick scoffed at the editor's arrogance. No one else was capable of delivering such keen insights into the minds of psychopaths as he was.

Frederick would never admit to misrepresenting his writing timeline when negotiating with the publisher; doing so would serve no purpose at that late hour. They would get his work when they got it and should be grateful for it, too. Frederick didn't see any way to rush the project. Unfortunately, his usual ghostwriter claimed to be busy and seemed reluctant to work with him again—another fool.

Frederick rubbed his temples. A migraine was building behind his eyes. Clicking on that email had been a mistake. Whether it was his career as an author or researcher, Chilton couldn't escape the conundrum of Hannibal Lecter. All of his recent frustrations could be traced to Hannibal. Even when he tried to focus on other things, his thoughts involuntarily returned to the cannibal. Though he was accustomed to setbacks when attempting to explain Hannibal's actions, it appeared he was entirely off the mark yet again. Admittedly, Lecter's interest in Will lasted much longer than previous experience suggested. However, Chilton still wished Hannibal would tear Will's throat out with his teeth or smear entrails on the wall. The man had to do something interesting soon if Chilton hoped to meet his editor's deadlines.

Pushing away from his desk, Dr. Chilton left his office, taking his cane with him. A stroll down the corridors of the BSHCI rarely failed to raise his spirits. The tapping of his cane on the tile floor was a balm to his frayed nerves, and the moans and vacant stares of his overly-medicated patients made him feel powerful as he walked among them, like a king wading through commoners to reach his throne.

As Chilton ambled down the halls, he repeated his daily affirmations in a voice too low to be overheard, “I am a man of high intelligence. I am a published scholar of note. I am the envy of my peers.” The more he walked, the more his worries seemed to fade away. Lecter’s childish games were immaterial. The serial killer was securely locked behind concrete walls, and Frederick held the figurative key. I am in control at the BSHCI, Chilton congratulated himself, and I am the more intelligent man by far.

🔪🔪

Dr. Chilton wasn’t the only person deceived by the change in Hannibal and Will’s interactions.

Matthew, too, accepted Will’s perceived relationship with Hannibal at face value. Despite the orderly’s innate cunning, he was neither a scholar nor someone who enjoyed mining for subtext. Instead, Matthew focused on completing his work promptly and efficiently so he could spend the latter part of his shift and some time off the clock with Will. On his days off from work, Matthew attended Support Alpha training sessions and met with social workers and employees of the Omega Rehabilitation Center. At home, he moved junk out of his unused second bedroom and bought brand-new furniture and bedding he hoped would be to Will’s liking. During quiet moments, Matthew marveled that the beautiful Mr. Graham would soon be in his care.

Dr. Lecter seemed to warm up to Matthew as the weeks passed, greeting him with a cursory nod and calling him Mr. Brown whenever he stopped by to see Will. Matthew wasn’t sure how he had secured the backing of Will’s current Support Alpha. Still, he was grateful, especially after his earlier blunder when attempting to relate to the older alpha. Without Dr. Lecter’s support, Matthew, as a new Support Alpha, wouldn’t have been trusted with such a high-profile omega.

According to the ORC, Will's recovery plan included maintaining his current association with Dr. Lecter. Despite what he had indicated to Will during their walk, Matthew's first response to the news was less than ideal...more annoyed and possessive. He had privately hoped Will would work with a therapist in the community rather than return to the BSHCI for counseling with Lecter. Thankfully, the information had been delivered over the phone, so no one could judge his reaction. Such a cross-over of care was almost unheard of for a traumatized omega, as they usually thrived when given the attention of a singular alpha. Still, Matthew recognized that Will's unorthodox needs were precisely what initially piqued his interest in the omega.

Will effortlessly dispelled most of Matthew's doubts by highlighting all the additional time they could spend together during the commute and even Matthew's working hours. Even if Will might spend the bulk of the time Matthew was working with Dr. Lecter, Matthew would still be in the same building if Will needed him, a luxury most Support Alphas could not offer their charges. Any reservations Matthew still harbored vanished after carefully studying live and recorded interactions between Will and Dr. Lecter. As far as Matthew could tell, Dr. Lecter only had a clinical interest in Will. That left an opening in Will's life for another Support Alpha and maybe something more.

No one at the BSHCI suspected anything was happening between Hannibal and Will beyond their roles of supporting alpha and omega charge. Barney arguably was closer to the men than anyone and was positioned to offer valuable insights, but his "uneducated guesses" had been so thoroughly criticized by Dr. Chilton that Barney swore never to provide his opinions again, even when such insights might prove helpful.

Someone like Jack Crawford would have been more astute in picking up on subtext, but he was off searching for the missing omegas and trying to decipher Will’s clue.

Bella was savvy and reasonable but was too close to the situation to see Hannibal’s grand design. Instead, she was pleased by Will’s progress and eager to assist with his goal of leaving the BSHCI.

Bella’s trust and compliance were crucial if Will and Hannibal’s plan were to succeed. While Will felt guilty for deceiving his friend, his priority was his soulmate and building a life they dreamed of together. The intricate pieces of their shared design were falling into place. With any luck, the rest of their plan would unfurl just as smoothly.

🔪🔪

A smile graced Barney’s worn face as he approached Hannibal’s cell with a parcel tucked under his arm. “Dr. Lecter, your book order arrived,” he called, gesturing to the books he carried with a flourish.

“Only two this time, I see,” Hannibal noted sedately, rising from his chair and selecting two books from his shelf. Rules limited the number of books permitted inside an inmate's cell at any time, and Frederick took additional joy in limiting the subject matter of Hannibal’s books as well. Hannibal passed two well-worn volumes through to Barney to exchange for the new books.

“Suppose so,” Barney said, accepting the books from Hannibal and sending new ones into the cell. “Dr. Chilton looked at the titles, said ‘hell no” to one, and told me to give the others to the ‘pretentious hipster.’ His words, not mine!” Barney said, sure to defend himself at the end.

Will burst out laughing at the constipated look on Hannibal’s face. “Why would Dr. Chilton have a problem with books?” Will asked, looking over Hannibal’s new acquisitions. The smaller book, Nicomachean Ethics, was written by Aristotle, the famous Greek philosopher, and explored the nature of ethics and the concept of virtue. There didn’t seem to be much basis for Chilton to object to that book.

Then, Will picked up the larger of the new books and flipped through the pages. “Never mind,” he said a moment later, realizing the answer to his question as he examined the featured artworks. “A bit dark, don’t you think?” he asked, glancing at Hannibal with a raised eyebrow. The book featured what many would consider disturbing historical paintings, such as Saturn Devouring His Son (Goya), Anguish (Schenck), and Old Man’s Death (Mednyánszky).

Hannibal took a few moments to gather his thoughts before speaking, “We all walk down the paths of life, but many avoid the darker, more complex trails. I am unafraid to explore the dark places someone like Frederick would bypass. I wonder, Will... what would you find if you didn’t hold yourself back?”

Hannibal took the book from Will’s hands, flipped to the painting The Corpses of the de Witt Brothers (de Baen), and handed the book back to Will. “Tell me what you see, Will?” he directed. His voice was compelling, almost a purr.

Will looked down at the artwork and couldn’t suppress an internal cringe. A caption noted that the painting depicted the bodies of Johan and Cornelius de Witt, two distinguished Dutch statesmen who were murdered in 1672 by a mob during political upheaval in the Netherlands. Stripped of their robes, the brothers were hung upside down from a wooden post, castrated, and disemboweled. Rioters cut off fingers, toes, tongues, and noses to sell as souvenirs. One person is believed to have wrung the neck of a stray cat, the remains of which were stuffed inside the gaping hole where Cornelis’ penis had been. The artist, Jan de Baen, did not personally witness the lynching. Instead, he used sketches composed by onlookers and first-hand accounts from attendees to construct his own version of events. Every bruise, incision, and amputation was worked into the painting.

The overall effect was unsettling, to say the least, and at first glance, it seemed obvious why someone like Hannibal Lecter would be drawn to such a disturbing scene. However, the more Will studied it, his empathy dancing along with Hannibal’s deep admiration for the piece, the more he began to appreciate it.

“It’s… highly detailed,” Will began. His tone was objective but became more impassioned as he spoke. “The light is… dramatic; the details rendered with an astute eye. It’s aesthetically beautiful but not simply by accident. Decisions were made in every brushstroke.” He closed his eyes and ran his fingers over the page as if he could feel the texture of paint on the smooth paper. If it wasn’t for de Baen’s painting, the murder of the de Witt brothers might have been entirely forgotten by history.

Suddenly, Will understood and widened his eyes to gaze at Hannibal.

“This is an artist’s recreation of events, but.. what actually happened…the truth of these events… no longer matter – de Baen’s art has trumped truth to define the past,” Will said, his voice holding a wonder that was only matched by the spark of red in Hannibal’s intense garnet eyes.

Hannibal approached Will and stood so close that his chest bumped into the book Will held before him. “You see the world in ways others cannot, Will,” Hannibal said. “Its beauty…” He looked meaningfully into Will’s eyes. “Its viciousness,” Hannibal continued, drawing Will’s attention back to the artwork. “You see and appreciate both sides of the coin. I find it utterly captivating.”

Barney shifted on his feet and looked down the hall towards the guard station, no doubt anxious to attend to his other responsibilities. “I’ll leave you to it then. I’ve seen that painting you like of that woman with the swan, Dr. Lecter. I think I’ll stick to Bob Ross if you don’t mind,” Barney said.

Hannibal smiled. “Of course, my friend. There is something charming about happy little accidents, after all.”

After Barney left, Will closed the art book and handed it to his alpha. “I might take another look at that later if it’s alright with you.”

“Of course,” Hannibal said. After Barney left, Hannibal looked like he was contemplating saying more, and then he did. “I find myself compelled to grant you any request, Will, not merely out of obligation but because of my profound regard for you. Your happiness carries a weight that I am more than willing to support,” Hannibal said, his look conveying the tenderness of a soft caress.

Hannibal’s veiled words conveyed his depth of feeling more strongly than the most romantic platitudes. Will licked his lips unconsciously, more than tempted to fall into his alpha’s arms, especially since they were standing so close. Hannibal’s eyes tracked the movement of his tongue, and Will cleared his throat, stepping away quickly before he could derail their carefully laid plans.

Hannibal chuckled lowly at Will’s response but took the book by Aristotle back to his bed and started to read while Will fussed with the pillows of his nest. After settling with this journal, Will studied Hannibal as the man placidly turned the page of his new book. “What book did Dr. Chilton reject anyway?” he asked.

“A book called How to Raise Your I.Q. by Eating Gifted Children,” Hannibal replied.

Will snickered. “Wait, really?” he asked incredulously, sitting up in his nest.

“Yes, though I am not surprised Frederick did not recognize the author as one of America’s best satirists,” Hannibal said.

“I’m not sure he’s ever read anything other than his own books,” Will said with a rueful shake of his head.

“Perhaps not even those. I have long suspected Frederick employs a ghostwriter.” Hannibal pursed his lips thoughtfully for several moments. “You know, it is truly fascinating to see how Frederick combines arrogance with such profound ignorance. One wonders if it is a talent he was born with or if he’s cultivated it carefully over the years. Either way, it’s quite impressive in its own tragic way."

They shared a knowing look that conveyed worlds of meaning, though only they knew what was truly being communicated inside Hannibal’s cell of glass and stone.

🔪🔪

Later that week, Will sat across from Hannibal as they ate dinner. As he took a bite of Parmesan-crusted pork, he almost jammed the spork into the back of his throat when he felt Hannibal’s socked foot rub against his crotch.

“Hannibal, what are you doing?” Will hissed lowly, his eyes dropping to his lap where Hannibal’s toes expertly manipulated his hardening member.

“Just ascertaining how ready you are for dessert,” Hannibal replied equally quietly. Though his eyes betrayed his enjoyment, both in the action and Will’s reaction.

Will’s eyes flicked toward the security camera and realized Hannibal’s movements were concealed by their bodies and the tabletop. “I’m fairly certain I’m not ready to leave the table at the moment,” he replied flatly, resisting the urge to rock his hips.

Hannibal licked his lips and ran the ball of his foot from the base of Will’s erection to the tip. “I, too, am ready for something more… something forbidden.” He rose from his seat at the table and retrieved an apple that was leftover from their lunch trays. Holding the fruit out to Will, he asked, “Would you like to know what original sin tastes like?” Under the table, Hannibal’s clever foot began its sensual torture again.

Will was, frankly, overwhelmed by his alpha’s actions. Instead of accepting the apple and taking a bite, Will leaned forward and bit into the fruit while Hannibal still held it, an action he had resisted when Matthew offered a bite.

Hannibal did not blink; he was focused on watching Will intently. He took his own bite after Will, overlapping it slightly so the juice and saliva from their respective bites could mingle. When Hannibal noticed Will struggling for control, he softened the intensity of his stare. He did not, however, lessen his determination to bring Will to orgasm under the table with his foot.

“Juicy, don’t you agree?” Hannibal asked, licking juice from his lips before handing the fruit back to Will. “Of course, there is no evidence in the book of Genesis or elsewhere in the Bible that an apple was the fruit growing on the Tree of Knowledge. Furthermore...“ Hannibal launched into a straight-faced lecture, expounding on the history of the Hebrew, Greek, and Latin translations of the early books of the Bible. All the while, he continued to stimulate Will’s erection.

Will could barely take in Hannibal’s words as he concentrated on staying quiet instead. He resisted the urge to thrust his hips against Hannibal’s socked foot and barely stopped himself from begging the alpha to bend him over the table and take him right then and there. The tension in Will’s body continued to build. His thoughts were focused almost exclusively on his member and Hannibal’s foot working deftly beneath the metal table.

The apple still gripped in Will’s hand was almost forgotten, but thankfully, he remembered it right before his orgasm hit. Sinking his teeth deeply into the apple's flesh was enough to muffle his groan of pleasure. With the apple still clenched between his teeth, Will tipped back his head in bliss as he rode out his orgasm. Afterward, his hands dropped to the table, and his head drooped as he panted with euphoria.

Hannibal studied Will for a long moment: his unclenched jaw, forehead free of worry lines, and entire form relaxed. The alpha's face was inscrutable, but his eyes held approval. Reaching out, Hannibal plucked the apple from Will’s mouth. The omega's relaxed jaw made it an easy task. “I think that’s enough ‘sin’ for one day, don’t you?” Hannibal asked.

Will couldn't resist chuckling as his eyes focused on Hannibal. The sticky mess cooling in his jumpsuit made him shift in discomfort. Still, Will could not bring himself to regret the encounter. “I think it’s plenty,” he said with a grin.

🔪🔪

Hannibal had successfully anticipated how others would react to his changed relationship with Will, but there was one thing he did not anticipate… Will’s intense drive to bond. True Mates were a rare phenomenon, and few studies had been conducted on the mechanics of attraction in their unions. It was almost unheard of for a pair of True Mates to resist bonding, even if one or both members were already bonded to others, even if children were involved. True Mates simply could not be kept apart for long, and Hannibal and Will were testing the limits of their preliminary connection.

Hannibal had always been a man in control of himself and his emotions. As an alpha, Hannibal had great mental and physical strength, which he used to maintain his distance from Will.

Will was undeniably strong, but as an omega, he was not above the physical desires of his nature. Hannibal could not fault Will for desiring him as savagely as he desired Will. It wasn’t something to condemn in his mate; if anything, it was a trait to honor and respect. However, it made the situation more difficult for both of them in one way: bonding pheromones.

Will’s inner omega did not understand why his True Mate would not bond with him. Will’s hormones were in flux as he battled his anatomy, and his anatomy often won, spilling out copious amounts of bonding hormones designed to lure in a receptive alpha. Though not as strong as pheromones produced during a heat, the scent was still a call to action aimed directly at Hannibal.

Each man had to retreat to the rear of the cell to take a cold shower on more than one occasion, and they did their best to avoid any contact at all during those times. Will’s body, in turn, responded with more recurring blasts of bonding pheromones.

There wasn’t much hope that Matthew wouldn’t notice the change in Will’s scent. The alpha reacted instinctively if the lingering smell of Will’s longing suffused the air when he came to visit. Matthew would scent the air repeatedly and be even more touchy with Will than usual. Hannibal ruthlessly suppressed his inner alpha, who raged every time he saw Matthew’s desire for Will. With any luck, Will’s body would cease putting out the bonding pheromones once his contact with Hannibal was reduced. The last thing either of them wanted was for Will to release bonding pheromones in Matthew’s house.

Though less than ideal, Will assured Hannibal that he was prepared to deal with the problem, lethally, if necessary. The very thought was tantalizing, and Hannibal hoped to witness Will’s darker tendencies, to revel in the depravity that was as much a part of him as it was a part of Hannibal. In either case, Matthew’s fate was already sealed. Even if Hannibal never escaped the BSHCI, he would find a way to end the smaller alpha. Matthew would not survive coveting Hannibal’s mate. It was only a matter of time.

🔪🔪

Jack Crawford paced at the guard station of Hannibal Lecter’s cell block, waiting for permission to speak to the omega Will Graham. Jack had blustered his way through the hospital with righteous indignation alone, insisting he was on a vital mission to save lives. It had been a successful tactic, until he arrived at the desired level and was confronted by the most rigid, by-the-book orderly he had ever met. No amount of demands or threats fazed the man who sat in front of him.

“I apologize, sir, but policy states no one can enter the Violent Prisoners Unit without the approval of Dr. Chilton,” the man, Barney, said in an entirely too-placid voice.

Jack gritted his teeth in the semblance of a smile and hoped the orderly didn’t notice his clenched fists. “Damn your policy, man. I am in charge of the FBI’s Behavioral Science Unit and have urgent business with Will Graham. Now let me in!” Jack demanded in a raised voice that had never failed to intimidate before.

Barney looked down at his computer screen and sighed as if he was being pestered by an overly playful kitten rather than a highly respected field agent. “As I said, Dr. Chilton must approve all visitors. It’s for liability purposes. You can go in when I get that approval and not before,” he said flatly.

This Barney must be cut from a different cloth, Jack thought uncharitably. Didn’t the man care that omegas could be dying at that moment? Just as Jack's rage was building to an impressive height, the phone on Barney’s desk rang.

“Your visit to Dr. Lecter’s cell has been approved,” Barney said, returning the handset to its cradle after a brief conversation with someone on the other end of the line.

Jack could only manage a stiff nod of acknowledgement, and he dogged the orderly’s heels as Barney unlocked the barred door to the unit and led the way down the hall.

“Your visit is limited to fifteen minutes, per Dr. Chilton’s orders,” Barney said when they arrived at Hannibal Lecter’s cell. Before Jack could object to the limited timeframe, Barney was already heading back to his desk. Jack glared as Barney retreated, wishing some rather unpleasant things would befall the orderly. Jack’s impatience and frustrations clouded his mind, leaving him ill-equipped to verbally spar with Hannibal. Every conversation that included the serial killer was an intellectual battleground that required careful observation and preparation.

“Jack Crawford, your visit is as welcome as it is expected,” Hannibal Lecter said suddenly, startling the usually unflappable agent. Hannibal Lecter was standing before the glass, his face hard and expressionless and his posture rigid. Behind him, Will Graham sat at the table with a book, one eyebrow raised and eyes too-knowing for Jack’s liking.

“My business isn’t with you this time, Lecter; it’s with him,” Jack said, pointing to Will, though his expression was wry instead of confrontational. The last thing Jack wanted was to waste his limited time arguing with the other alpha.

Will closed his book and stood, coming to stand beside Hannibal at the glass. For just an instant, Jack saw Hannibal’s rigid posture relax by a minuscule amount. If Jack hadn’t been watching the men so closely, he would not have noticed the shift. It happened too quickly and by too small a degree. Will spoke before Jack could consider the implications of this new discovery. “You found them, didn’t you?” the omega asked quietly.

“I did. You knew I would,” Jack replied. There was no hesitation in his reply or attempt to soften the news. Neither was in his nature; in any case, tact wouldn’t change the outcome.

“What do you know?” Will asked, his tone guarded.

“We found the remains of what we believe to be seventeen individuals in the area you described. There is a concentration of remains beneath the railway bridge and also in several areas downstream. Those remains were likely carried there by seasonal runoff,” Jack said.

Will swallowed noticeably and swayed, taking on a decidedly green tint. His scent turned sour, the acrid scent pungent in Jack’s nose. Hannibal reacted immediately, turning Will into his body and tucking the omega’s head beneath his chin.

Jack continued his recitation, ruthlessly ignoring the obvious signs of omega distress and likewise testing Lecter’s control over his protective instincts. “DNA tests will be required to identify the victims, of course. Few, if any, families will receive a complete set of remains. Some may only receive a bone or two.” Jack stepped toward the glass, rashly crossing the safety line painted on the floor. His eyes drilled holes into the side of Will’s face. He wanted to drive home his urgency to find the culprits.

Hannibal’s scent turned dangerous. The air around Jack reverberated from the growl emanating from the cannibal’s chest. Anyone other than Jack would have heeded the warning on Lecter’s face when he backed away from the glass, taking Will with him.

“Their families won’t have justice because you refuse to hold the monsters who did this responsible. By protecting them, you prioritize those unhinged lowlifes over those families who are grieving,” Jack said relentlessly. He was channeling his own anxieties and directing them solely at Will.

Jack's brash second step toward the glass was halted by Barney, who appeared virtually out of thin air. The orderly had been monitoring their interactions and rushed to intervene at the first sign of a confrontation. Unfortunately, Jack was already too close to the glass, and Barney's unexpected interruption prevented him from noticing what was happening within the cell. While Jack was occupied, Lecter whisked Will to the relative security of his nest before returning to the glass with the speed of a predator. Reaching through the air hole Lecter clenched Jack’s finger with an iron grip.

The orderly yelled for backup, but Jack couldn’t look away from Hannibal’s face squished against the glass. Condensation from Lecter’s breath further distorted the cannibal’s appearance, but his words made the sight all the more nightmarish. “Bad boy, Jack. Since your wife isn’t here to snap your leash, allow me to do it for her.” There was a crack, and then all Jack knew was pain. A scream he couldn’t stop clawed its way free from his throat. He instinctively cradled the injured hand to his chest and looked about frantically for another attack. Everything was blurry, but it seemed the immediate danger had passed. He held up his mangled right hand. The index finger was twisted to an unnatural angle. His gasp was just as involuntary as the scream had been, and he stumbled back, gaping at his hand in shock.

Hannibal chuckled from where he stood on the opposite side of the glass, “You might want to have that looked at, officer. There appears to be a problem with your trigger finger.” Then he turned his back and went to Will, leaving Jack to be dragged down the hallway, half-assisted by Barney.

Jack’s surroundings started to fade, then brightened again, and he fought down a rising need to spew his guts. He knew the orderly was speaking, but the man’s words were a dull sound from far away, and Jack’s brain was too overwhelmed to decipher them. Without warning, he lost the battle with the dark, and the pain, which was all Jack could think about, slipped away.

He knew nothing until sometime later when he blinked his eyes open in the back of an ambulance. A bag of intravenous fluid hung by his side, and the paramedic was gently wrapping his (mangled) hand to stabilize it in place so it could be repaired at the hospital.

The initial stabbing pain had transformed into a pulsing throb. Jack was grateful for the pain reliever the paramedic had no doubt administered through his intravenous line, which made the pain somewhat bearable.

Thinking about the unnatural angle of his digit made Jack queasy, so he focused instead on the events leading up to the assault. FBI agents are trained to continuously observe, run through scenarios, or consider various possibilities. Jack's methodical thought process made him especially suited to work as a detective. However, as Jack reflected on his actions, he admitted he had allowed his impulses to overpower his common sense.

The outcome was as regrettable as it was foreseeable. To lack awareness while in Hannibal Lecter's presence was to court death, and Jack knew he was fortunate to emerge relatively unscathed. If only he had paused to consider the situation, he probably wouldn’t be in that position. How many times had Bella told him the same thing?

For an instant, Jack's heart froze. Bella. Then it started to pound. The paramedic put his stethoscope to Jack's chest in concern, but the last thing Jack was worried about was his heart failing. With the clear vision of hindsight, Jack realized his blunder was far larger than he initially thought. Groaning, he covered his face with his good hand. How could he have been so foolish?

Most people would agree that Jack had massively miscalculated Hannibal Lecter's protective instincts regarding his current omega charge and that Jack was likewise careless in disregarding the clearly posted safety zones outside the prisoner's cell. However, neither of those errors revealed how completely he had fucked up. There was no way to sugarcoat it. Jack had mishandled a situation involving a traumatized omega... even more than that... the omega in question was one of his wife’s clients.

Jack desperately wished that he would somehow already be in surgery before his wife arrived at the hospital. That way, he could have the benefit of coming out of anesthesia when listening to his wife’s no-doubt colorful thoughts about his behavior. After being dealt Hannibal’s stern rebuke, the last thing Jack wanted was to endure one of Bella’s legendary tirades. He knew being in a hospital bed and under physician care was no protection from his wife.

When the ambulance doors opened, Jack saw his wife standing just behind the waiting hospital staff. Her initial expression of concern turned thunderous when their eyes met. Jack lost sight of her as he was unloaded from the ambulance, but she reappeared a couple feet from him a moment later and stared down her nose at him like a particularly-distasteful bug. Jack felt as tiny as an insect, too, as his gurney was pushed past Bella and into the hospital.

The clicking of high-heeled shoes echoed their owner's presence down the hospital corridor, and Jack recognized Bella’s distinctive gait. She was following behind, neither hurried nor decided slow. Her pace was steady, and Jack knew he could not outrun his fate. He would have to listen to every word his wife had to say. And Jack was going to have to do worse than that. He was going to have to apologize to Hannibal Lecter.

🔪🔪

Later that evening, after hours of tedious reports, Frederick was finally free to scrutinize every detail of Jack Crawford’s visit to Lecter’s cell. Queueing up the security video, Chilton slowed the playback speed so he could study Hannibal’s reaction to omega distress. While attempting to be as clinical as possible, Frederick completely overlooked subtle signs that Lecter was genuinely concerned about Will. Instead, he zeroed in on the cannibal’s expression of rage.

‘This is proof that the monster still lurks inside Lecter,’ Chilton thought, his eyes gleaming. He continued the thought, happy to find evidence that supported his beliefs, ‘Any alpha capable of that level of violence has no business near any omega. Haven't I told Dr. Bloom the same thing?’

The day's events were exactly what he needed for his book! Frederick started to laugh. The sound started out as a low chuckle before rising to a grating, maniacal giggle—one that was not out of place in the BSHCI but certainly would not be expected to originate from the Director’s office.

Leaving the security footage running, Frederick leaped joyfully to his feet. Still laughing and with tears in his eyes, he grabbed his cane from where it leaned against his desk and swung it triumphantly in the air. A lamp, which had been a gift from his mother, was knocked off the desk, and his World’s Best Boss coffee mug went flying like a foul ball, the handle breaking off in the process.

Later, Frederick would be weepy with guilt over the busted lamp and spend an hour searching for a replacement mug, but in that moment… Frederick felt vindicated. He was right to make the pushy editor wait. Hannibal Lecter was more animal than man, and this latest incident would make Frederick’s new book a best-seller.

Frederick approached the mirror behind his door. Turning his face, he studied his reflection closely. Raised voices from the security video faded into the background as Frederick spoke his daily affirmations. “I am a man of high intelligence. I am a published scholar of note. I am the envy of my peers.” When his recitation ended, Frederick simply began the litany again, taking no notice of his surroundings or the passage of time. When Jack's agonized screams began, Frederick still made no move to stop the video. Instead, he continued to repeat his affirmations as the sound of pain echoed around the closed office.

🔪🔪

Chapter Text

There were surprisingly few consequences for Hannibal after he attacked Jack Crawford. The inmate had been forced to relinquish his collection of books and art materials for some time, but the sacrifice was not as arduous as it would have been had Will not been in residence with him. Chilton would not dare to confiscate Will’s books and risk angering Dr. Alana Bloom. Frederick fancied himself in a rivalry with the other doctor. Yet, he had little backbone when actually dealing with her and so, therefore, ceded any potential challenge before it could even begin.

Chilton, likewise, could not take away Hannibal’s limited recreational time outside of the cell, as it had been mandated by the court. Chilton was even less likely to defy the courts than he was Dr. Bloom.

All of this to say, very little changed in ways that would disrupt Hannibal’s and Will’s design. After a single discussion of what happened during Jack’s visit, Will and Bella spent their sessions together discussing the logistics of his move and what to expect during the transition period of leaving Hannibal’s care and settling into Matthew’s home. Even though Will was only taking this step as a means to aid Hannibal’s escape, he appreciated Bella’s concern and even planned to put some of her practical suggestions to use. Even if Will wasn’t really working towards his own independence, that didn’t mean he would find it easy to be apart from Hannibal. Neither man knew precisely how their separation would affect them. Still, they hoped the frequent visits would stave off any unwelcome side effects, such as increased bonding pheromones on Will’s part or increased violent urges on Hannibal’s.

Hannibal and Will spent their remaining time together in conversations steeped with metaphors and veiled longing. While a listener might hear two men discussing the style of William Shakespeare's Love's Labor's Lost, the speakers were actually conveying their sincere devotion to each other.

Time marched on while the mates enjoyed the time they had together, but like all days either anticipated or dreaded, the day of their separation crept inexorably closer.

🔪🔪

Thin rays of sunlight shone through the gap in the bedroom curtains and fell on Matthew Brown’s sleeping face. Like a switch had been flipped, Matthew went from dozing to awake in an instant, though it took several moments more for his brain to come online. The wall calendar across from his bed helped; the date was circled in red, and all the days leading up to it had been crossed off. Will. It had finally arrived: the long-awaited day Will Graham would come home with him.

A thrill surged through Matthew, and he sprung out of bed, excitement urging him to get moving. After a visit to the apartment’s single bathroom, Matthew inspected his home, hoping to make the space even more appealing for Will. The alpha stayed up late the previous evening, running the vacuum, wiping down counters, and spraying scent-neutralizing spray everywhere. Satisfied with the state of his home, Matthew made a cup of coffee and sat at the table, sipping the dark, earthy beverage thoughtfully. His time that morning had been planned to the minute, and it was not yet time to shower or dress for the day.

Matthew slipped into the composed exterior countenance that was expected of a Support Alpha, even if he was practically giddy on the inside. He was determined to do right by Will. The omega deserved a chance to overcome his circumstances and find happiness. Matthew planned to be there, leading Will every step of the way.

Matthew had dedicated himself to Support Alpha training provided by the ORC, recording lectures and filling notebooks with plans. He also tracked what Will ate at the BSHCI by noting which foods he was served and what was left behind on his meal trays. The orderly used his knowledge of Will’s likes and dislikes to compile a binder of recipes and stock his kitchen with food. Everything would be perfect. His apartment was ready, and he was as prepared as he knew how to be.

The clock on the oven was one minute faster than the one on his microwave, but by either measure, it was time to prepare for the day. Rising from the table, Matthew washed his mug and returned it to its place in the cabinet. Coffee alone would serve as his breakfast that morning.

Shaving and showering were automatic tasks, leaving Matthew’s mind free to wander. It was a Friday, and he had taken the day off work. He had an appointment to meet Bella Crawford and Dr. Chilton at Lecter’s cell that morning to collect Will and his belongings. Matthew had intentionally selected a Friday as Will’s transfer date. With any luck, spending the weekend alone would bolster Will’s reliance on him. In any case, both Matthew and Will would be back at the BSHCI sometime next week: Will for therapy with Lecter and Matthew for work.

Will Graham’s case was complex. No one familiar with the circumstances would be surprised to learn that Will required extensive support during his recovery. As Will approached the second phase of his rehabilitation, the two alphas supporting him would share responsibilities, each leveraging their unique situation to assist Will. As part of the dual-alpha plan, Hannibal, given his knowledge of psychology and neurology, was tasked with improving Will’s socioemotional health. Will would accompany Matthew to work several days a week to meet with Lecter for therapy. Visits would become less frequent as Will improved.

Matthew’s role as secondary Support Alpha would be to provide safe alpha companionship. As such, he would accompany Will outside of the home, exposing him to daily tasks, such as grocery shopping, as well as recreational activities of their choosing.

Matthew realized during one of his early training sessions at the ORC that most activities that would assist Will with reintegration into society could easily be construed as dates. Dining out, picnics, ice skating, movies, attending sporting events, theatrical performances: Matthew kept a running list and was constantly adding to it. He had other ideas, too, darker, more subtle, and, frankly, manipulative that he wouldn’t hesitate to employ if he felt the situation with Will was spinning out of his control. Matthew was more cunning than many would give him credit for and fiercely loyal once his devotion was earned.

Soon, Matthew was fully dressed, teeth brushed, hair combed, and ready to collect Will. Picking up his keys and pushing his wallet into his pocket, the alpha left his apartment and bolted the door. The next time he stood in front of that plain beige door, Will would be by his side. Heading toward his car with a jaunty whistle, for once, Matthew wasn’t dreading the commute to work.

🔪🔪

Although it had been many years since Hannibal witnessed the sunrise, his internal clock was still finely tuned to the dawn. As the sun crested the horizon outside, Hannibal rose silently from his bed. As stealthily as the predators he was often compared to, he straightened his sheets and donned his prison jumpsuit. For a long while, Hannibal stood barefoot between the beds, hands hanging loosely at his sides, as he stared down at his true mate sleeping peacefully in his nest. Hannibal’s gaze was intense and non-blinking as he focused on Will’s soft features. The omega’s lips were slightly parted, air puffing quietly between them with each breath. His forehead was worry-free, and his stubble had reached the length Hannibal privately preferred. Will's hair was a riotous mess of soft curls twisting in every direction but somehow managing to perfectly frame his face.

Hannibal would miss seeing that beautiful face every morning, but he pushed the thought away for the time being. It was good that Will was resting. Hannibal, himself, had passed a fitful night. With a quiet sigh, he sat on the edge of his bed. Even seated, he was drawn to his mate, leaning towards the omega and resting his elbows on his knees. He continued to study Will, tracing his form and face with appreciative eyes and filing all his observations away into a special place dedicated to Will in his mind palace.

Acknowledging Will as his true mate had been utterly life-changing for Hannibal, impacting both his long-term goals and short-term plans. In general, he viewed this shift in a positive light. Yet, the unfamiliar emotions of jealousy and possessiveness that accompanied the realization left the alpha unsettled. That internal conflict culminated when he rashly kissed Will in front of Barney, Matthew, and Frederick just a mere five days after Will arrived. Since then, Hannibal has assessed those feelings, studying and dissecting them until their origin and purpose became clear.

A new path of self-study had opened to Hannibal upon Will’s arrival. He had to learn to self-regulate and suppress his new emotions until an appropriate time of his choosing, at least. Acting upon such urges without the ability to control them would be the height of rudeness, not to mention a hindrance to Hannibal’s ultimate goal of being an example for others to follow.

Once he felt mastery had been achieved, Hannibal set forth to test his newfound control. The design he envisioned to that end was utter perfection. The test Hannibal devised was intended to push his newfound controls to the breaking point. With his escape and future with Will as the ultimate prize, Hannibal chose to endure what no other alpha would contemplate, a period of prolonged separation from his true mate, all while another alpha openly lusted after his omega. The method left a decidedly bitter taste in his mouth. Though this design had been of his own making, Hannibal lamented the time he and Will would spend apart.

Hannibal had felt at peace overnight with his plan but again wrestled with the idea. The necessity of utilizing Matthew Brown, a rival alpha, was, at best, galling. Though he had been privileged to witness Will skillfully guide Matthew as an unwitting pawn, Hannibal knew Matthew posed a real threat to Will’s safety. There was little doubt that Will could handle the other alpha, but Hannibal still worried about unforeseen circumstances.

Hannibal ran through his alternatives again, yet no other scenario would reveal such evocative results. The outcome wasn’t in question, only what Hannibal would learn along the way. Each step of his plan was carefully tempered with logic and cunning. It was beautiful, yet far from simple, with many moving pieces that Hannibal would need to steer toward completion. His vast knowledge of the human mind, iron-clad self-discipline, and most deceptive mask would be required.

Hannibal had idly planned his escape many times in the past, utilizing different methods to achieve his freedom. Such musings were merely mental exercises designed to overcome boredom and the tediousness of prison life. Freedom could have been Hannibal’s at any time, but he remained imprisoned partially due to a lack of interest and also because he enjoyed vexing and antagonizing Frederick. But all of that changed the moment he met Will.

The gullible Matthew Brown would serve as the linchpin, while Will would be the architect of the orderly’s fate. Hannibal’s role included maintaining his composure while Will arranged their initial escape. Hannibal had already made private arrangements for their life outside of the BSHCI, cryptically aided by Mr. Kenner. First, they would deal with Will’s tormentor, then Hannibal planned to whisk his mate away to a quiet locale where law enforcement would be lax and where the two men could live a life of quiet luxury. Maybe Will would adopt a dog or two, and Hannibal would procure and treat them both to fine cuisine and culture.

Just then, Will’s face contorted, and his heavy eyes opened a crack. Hannibal watched as Will rubbed his face against the pillow and rolled to face Hannibal, shooting the alpha an adorably sleepy smile in greeting. Before Hannibal could speak a word, he was suddenly overwhelmed by a great gust of pheromones. Seeming to understand that Will would soon be leaving Hannibal’s side, the omega’s body was attempting to entice his alpha to bond.

Will sniffed the air, his cheeks flushing in embarrassment at his body’s unconscious plea. “Sorry about that,” he mumbled, sitting and reaching for the glasses on his shelf.

The lenses partially obscured Will’s eyes, and Hannibal knew his mate needed a moment to compose himself. "It’s just the two of us here. There’s no judgment, only understanding. Sit with me and breathe, just for a moment,” Hannibal said, demonstrating the deep breathing technique he recommended. Of course, each deep breath only brought more of that tantalizing scent of a willing omega… his willing omega… to Hannibal’s nose.

Stoically, Hannibal maintained his calm outward appearance, not allowing the desire flowing through him to show. “Yes, breathe, Will. Very good. There is no danger here—only quiet. You are safe. Whatever it is, we’ll untangle it together, one thread at a time. No rush. I’m in no hurry, and I have all the time in the world for you,” Hannibal reassured in his rich, accented voice.

Will shifted uncomfortably on the bed, bending his legs to conceal the erection growing beneath the sheet. He sent Hannibal a discretely incredulous look as if to say, ‘You’re not helping.’ What he said instead was, “You always make it sound so easy. Like... like all this noise can just be quieted.” He gestured vaguely at his head for emphasis. “Maybe a shower would help…” Will trailed off and glanced, annoyed, down at his lap.

Hannibal resisted the urge to chuckle at his mate’s predicament despite everything else that was going through his mind on that particular day. “How fortunate that a plan of action now lies before your feet. I hear Barney with the breakfast tray. When you finish, we will enjoy a meal. Conversation is always more pleasant when shared over something civilized,” he said.

Will murmured a quiet assent, and after gathering a few items, he discretely retreated to the partitioned area of the cell to bathe. Hannibal busied himself straightening Will’s nest. It was a task the alpha relished, a way to show his care for his mate even when they were keeping such examples to a minimum. Later, Hannibal would be restrained so Will could depart the BSHCI for Matthew’s abode. During that time, Barney would clean Hannibal’s cell and clear away all evidence of Will’s stay. It would be a difficult transition for both men, but Hannibal had faith in their ability to weather it.

Suddenly, the smell of Will’s arousal rose in the air, carried by the clouds of steam billowing over the fabric partition. Hannibal cocked his head to the side, breathing deeply of his mate’s desire. Soon, his keen ears detected a quick, rhythmic squelching among the cacophony of falling water.

Will was masturbating. Hannibal froze, not out of shame but reverence. Will was unmasked. Unobserved. Yet Hannibal was aware of his every move.

The tableau of Will indulging in self-gratification behind a thin fabric curtain while Hannibal stood just beyond, like a worshiper seeking supplication, was exquisite. Overhearing Will in such a vulnerable, private moment was closer to an act of communion than voyeurism. Hannibal wasn’t subject to the whims of simple lust; this was something he would savor.

Abruptly, Will’s breathing sped up, along with the rhythmic squelching sound. Then, Will’s breath hitched. He held it for several seconds and quickly gasped for air before holding it again. Hannibal was hanging on to every noise. Was it a punishment or a pleasure to overhear? Perhaps both, he considered as Will suppressed his groan of relief, panting quietly after a rush of pleasure. Hannibal reverently tucked the memory away like a secret note in the lining of a coat.

Hannibal began his morning workout, hoping the customary exercises would provide an adequate distraction. However, Hannibal soon acknowledged that nothing could distract him from the changes the day would bring. When Barney pushed the food cart into view, Hannibal gratefully abandoned his remaining exercises. Before his incarceration, Hannibal distracted himself from his unbalanced emotions by cooking, reorganizing his books, or critiquing art. Redirecting his discomfort into something beautiful, into something he could control, had been an effective diversion, but he was without such pastimes in the BSHCI.

It was a relief when the water turned off, and Will returned, fully dressed, to the central area of the cell. Neither man obliquely referenced Will’s indulgence in the shower, but Hannibal couldn’t resist one veiled comment. “You breathe differently when you're not thinking about being heard,” he said quietly, almost reflective.

Such a statement would mean nothing to anyone else, but Will understood. Hannibal watched him register it. The pulse in his throat. The stillness in his hands.

“You were listening,” Will replied. A calm statement. No shame. No demand. Just a quiet acknowledgment..

Hannibal wiped his lips with the thin paper napkin before responding. “You were… honest,” he said.

“Perhaps I am not the only one who could benefit from a bit of honesty. Tell me, Dr. Lecter, when was the last time you were honest with yourself?” Will asked. His eyes were sharpened with amusement, but his words had a biting, almost accusatory tone.

Hannibal repressed a shiver at his mate’s veiled remark. He was unlikely to ignore such an invitation when he had a quiet moment later, once Will had gone.

Breakfast included quiet conversation, but Hannibal could not recall the exact words exchanged. Though he usually prided himself on his keen wits, the impending loss of Will, however temporary, was clouding his mind. Hannibal could not recall which one of them finished the meal first or whether Will ate the fruit before his omelet.

After breakfast, Will gathered his few belongings. He had arrived with nothing but had accumulated more inside the BSHCI than a few clothes and toiletries. In addition to finding his true mate in Hannibal, which was a gift bestowed by fate, Hannibal also created a custom artwork for Will using graphite on paper. The soft charcoal shading was so expertly applied that some areas appeared to have a metallic sheen. Hannibal had gifted his drawing to the omega several weeks ago. Will added the rolled art piece to his other meager possessions. Hannibal, as an alpha, wished he could provide more but was limited by his circumstances.

Hannibal found their quiet conversation lapsing into silence more frequently as the appointed time of Will’s departure drew closer. Two sets of footsteps could soon be heard heading towards Hannibal’s cell. The identities of the visitors were revealed by their steps. One visitor wore heels, while the other’s leather-soled shoes were accompanied by the clicking of a cane on the polished concrete floor. Frederick and Bella Crawford’s arrival had been expected but was hardly welcome.

“Good morning, Will!” Bella greeted as soon as she was in view. “Are you ready? This is a big move,” she remarked next with a reserved but hopeful smile as if Will having some reservations was completely expected.

“I think so,” Will said, clearing his throat and approaching the glass. “I have all my stuff,” he added, gesturing to the small accumulation on his bed.

“Matthew should be here soon, but I wanted to get here earlier to be available in case you had questions or concerns,” Bella said.

Will glanced at Hannibal, then back to Bella and the silently looming Frederick. “I’m ready for the next step,” he assured.

“I’m sure it must ease your mind to know you will be back to see Hannibal soon. Of course, we’ll see if our capricious Dr. Lecter will be interested in continuing your treatment after you leave, or if he will be vengeful, or will it be ‘out of sight, out of mind,’” Frederick wondered aloud, practically rubbing his hands together in anticipation of the outcome.

“Dr. Chilton,” Bella snapped venomously. Hannibal was privately pleased to witness the blood drain from Frederick’s face at such a sharp rebuke. Bella continued undeterred. “Dr. Lecter has been an upstanding and successful Support Alpha. His behavior and commitment have been beyond reproach. Regardless of his previous crimes, those facts are indisputable, and those are the only facts I am concerned with today or any day.” Bella turned sharply back to Will and Hannibal, deliberately dismissing Frederick’s inane babbling.

Hannibal stood rigidly while Will and Bella made small talk, but he was not inclined to join the discussion. Because he was so focused, Hannibal was the first one to hear the faint clanking of chains, the rumbling of his restraint chair, and the footsteps of multiple people drawing closer.

Matthew Brown was foremost among the group of arriving guards. The alpha orderly’s cheeks were tinted pink from excitement, and a broad smile, which he tried to suppress, showed off his white teeth. Hannibal had a momentary urge to yank those teeth from Matthew’s head and drive them into the top of his skull like a broken crown. The orderly was dressed smartly in a polo shirt and slacks, off the rack from a discount store, no doubt, Hannibal reasoned, but more appropriate than Matthew’s usual scrubs and coat.

There weren’t many charitable thoughts in Hannibal’s head about the other alpha. He had dismissed Matthew’s attempts at camaraderie long before Will’s arrival and only managed to tolerate the attention he lavished on Will because it was for a larger goal.

“Will!” Matthew called out in an almost-squeak. He looked embarrassed for a moment, cleared his throat, and tried again. “Bet you’re ready to get out of here,” Matthew said to Will, looking meaningfully at Hannibal’s small and minimally-appointed cell.

“I suppose,” Will said, glancing at Hannibal with an indecipherable look.

Hannibal opened his mouth to respond, but Frederick interrupted before he could. “And you shall be free indeed!” the BSHCI director cried out mockingly, his arms raised and his cane held aloft like a minister preaching fire and brimstone.

“He was never a prisoner, Dr. Chilton,” Matthew said, patiently as if explaining something simple to a child.

Hannibal didn’t know which was more amusing: Frederick’s attempted allusion to Christian doctrine falling flat or Matthew’s obliviousness to his employer’s growing annoyance.

Barney mercifully stepped in at that point and regained control of the situation. “If you’re ready, Mr. Graham, I’ll ask Dr. Lecter to begin the restraint procedure.”

Will stepped back from the glass, and he and Hannibal turned to face each other. They had not discussed how they would say goodbye to each other. Even though it was temporary and not truly goodbye, how would they bid each other farewell? Hannibal wanted nothing more than to pull Will into his arms, tuck his mate’s face into his neck, and scent him thoroughly, but that would not be the way a typical Support Alpha and omega pair would part company. Hannibal resolved to follow his mate’s lead, and when Will leaned forward with a smile and an outstretched hand, Hannibal could do no less than accept his mate’s handshake.

“Thank you for everything, Hannibal. I don’t know where I would be without you. I’ll see you next week,” Will said. His tone was appreciative, matching his words, but Will’s eyes betrayed his deep sadness and discomfort at their pending separation.

Hannibal swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. He needed to respond to his mate, but what should he say? Their imminent separation was deeply felt, but his words needed to be measured and restrained. He took another moment to gather his thoughts before speaking. “Goodbyes are for those uncertain of reunion. This is only a pause,” Hannibal said, still holding Will’s clammy hand firmly but gently in his own. There was a deep longing conveyed by Hannibal’s tone but held in exquisite control. He was allowing Will to go like a fisherman lets out a line—knowing a pull would return his prize to him.

Barney stepped forward again, his usual polite smile in place. “Dr. Lecter, if you would turn and allow me to put on these handcuffs, we’ll get started,” he said. Hannibal complied. The restraint process seemed to go both faster and slower than usual. In either case, the alpha kept his eyes on his true mate every moment he could.

When the guards entered the cell to secure him to the hand truck, Matthew also entered. He froze two steps inside the threshold, his nostrils flaring as he scented the air. Hannibal scented discreetly as well. He picked up remnants of Will’s bonding pheromones from earlier, as well as a lingering scent of Will’s pleasure during his shower.

Matthew’s pupils dilated in response, and he approached Will with a little more speed than Hannibal liked, but he was strapped to the hand truck and was unable to object in any meaningful way.

Will ducked his head a little when Matthew drew closer, instinctively hiding his scent glands from view. Matthew circled Will like a predator culling prey from the herd. When he spoke, though, his voice was full of concern. “Is everything okay, Will? Do you need to go see an omega specialist or someone at the Omega Rehabilitation Center?” Matthew asked.

“Uh, no,” Will said, turning bright red from the tips of his ears to where the blush disappeared beneath the collar of his jumpsuit. “I was just, uh, feeling a lot of anticipation this morning about what this change signifies. And what the future could mean for… well, for us.”

From where Hannibal was restrained, he could see the look Will sent his way from beneath lowered eyelashes. Surprisingly, it wasn’t sad or even longing. It was savage, almost feral. Hannibal had to wield his considerable mental faculties to suppress the hardening of his member beneath his jumpsuit. An alpha’s erection would be impossible to overlook in his current predicament.

“Well, I have a lot of plans for us,” Matthew replied. His cheeks were pink, too, having obviously taken Will’s words at face value, precisely as the clever omega had intended. He bent down and scooped up Will’s few clothes and toiletry items. He pulled a pillowcase from one of Will’s pillows and dropped what he carried inside, throwing the small bundle over his shoulder reminiscent of Santa Claus.

Hannibal wanted to growl at the disrespect shown to Will's nest. The nest itself was well-built, crafted by Will with Hannibal’s supervision. Will had requested the lesson so he could make a nest similar in design to Hannibal’s when Will was residing at Matthew’s house. Hannibal’s hands clenched into fists in the sleeves of the straitjacket as he imagined Matthew Brown attempting to build a nest for his true mate.

“I’m looking forward to it,” Will said, having turned his attention to Matthew after his heated glance at Hannibal. Will picked up the rolled artwork Matthew had left behind and two books he still wanted to read and ran a hand over the soft blanket covering his nest. In an unexpected move, Will picked up the bare pillow and set it on Hannibal’s bed.

“Come on, Will! This isn’t where I want to spend my weekend. Well, this weekend, anyway. Let’s get out of here and go home!” Matthew said, leading the way out of the cell. Will hesitated before following. When he met Matthew in the hall, they were joined by Bella Crawford.

Frederick had disappeared sometime while Hannibal was being restrained. Without a doubt, the BSHCI director had more important matters to attend to. Hannibal fervently hoped those plans included trimming the long nose hairs that dangled past the entrance of Frederick’s nostrils, making a concerted journey towards the “distinguished” doctor's lips. Hannibal didn’t understand how a man who spent so much time obsessing over himself in front of a mirror could possibly miss such an obvious grooming need on his face.

Before Hannibal knew it, he was on one side of the glass with Barney and the guards, while Will stood in the hallway with Bella and Matthew, about to walk away and begin the next part of their plan. It was bittersweet to finally be at that moment, but the sooner they started, the sooner they would be together again.

The mates shared one final look. Will simply held Hannibal’s gaze for a long, steady moment. His expression is unreadable. Hannibal couldn’t tell if it was approval, longing, or an admonition not to try anything precipitous.

Finally, Will murmured, “…Hannibal.” Then he turned and walked away, saying nothing else because they both knew no words would last until they were together again.

Hannibal did not try to call out a reply to his departing omega. What could he really have said? He strained his impressive hearing to its limit as he listened to Will’s footsteps in the hall, the faint murmur of voices, and ultimately, the slam of the barred cell block door.

Hannibal’s attention gradually returned to the activity around him. Barney and the guards were busy cleaning, sanitizing, and deodorizing his cell. They stripped Will’s nest, wiped down the mattress and bed frame, dusted the shelves and table, cleaned the glass, and scrubbed the shower area. The lingering fragrance of Will’s scent grew increasingly faint as they cleaned. Hannibal kept his eyes on Will’s bare pillow, waiting unassumingly on his bed.

Finally, Hannibal was released from his restraints, a process made longer without Will there to assist. The cell felt foreign to him without the comforting presence of his mate, but he wasn’t overly concerned. After Barney and the guards had gone, Hannibal picked up the pillow the guards had overlooked. Pressing his nose into the fabric, Will’s dark chocolate scent flooded his senses, bringing a peace he only felt in the man’s presence. Sitting on the edge of his bed, with Will’s pillow held to his face, Hannibal breathed deeply. Will’s scent provided a comfort he was unable to convey with words.

There is no distance between soulmates. They are close together, even when far apart.

🔪🔪

Chapter Text

As Matthew maneuvered his silver sedan deftly through the Baltimore traffic, Will tried to take in the unfamiliar streets and landmarks through watery, squinted eyes. They were heading west, away from the morning sunlight, but Will’s eyes, mainly accustomed to artificial light, prevented him from enjoying the passing scenery.

Will glanced at the alpha sitting beside him. Matthew was sitting: back straight, hands firmly gripping the steering wheel, and eyes rotating from the front windshield to the rear-view and side-view mirrors. He was solely focused on driving. Every now and then, Matthew would breathe deeply and lick his lips.

When the car came to a stop at a red light, Matthew finally looked at Will with a nervous smile. Then, his expression changed to one of concern. “Oh, crap, I forgot,” Matthew mumbled, leaning forward to open the glove box in front of Will just as the traffic signal changed to green. As the cars in front of them moved through the intersection, Matthew rummaged through the glove box. “Ah ha!” he crowed triumphantly, pulling a hinged case from the box and handing it to Will. The car behind them blew its horn impatiently, and Matthew stepped on the accelerator.

Will opened the case. Inside was a pair of brand-new sunglasses. After a moment’s hesitation, he removed his regular glasses, put them in the case, and donned the shades. Instantly, his eyes felt better, no longer strained to a painful degree.

“I didn’t know your prescription, so those are just regular sunglasses, but we can get you some prescription ones later if you’d like. They told us in support alpha training that some omegas have issues with light sensitivity, so I wanted to be prepared. But if you don’t like them, we can easily get you another pair,” Matthew said. This was the longest speech the alpha had delivered since they left the BSHCI, and Will was glad the comment broke the silence between them.

“Thanks,” Will said sincerely. “I’m sure these will be fine,” he added, tapping the sunglasses lightly. As Matthew drove, Will studied him surreptitiously, utilizing the dark lenses he wore to disguise where his gaze lay. Matthew’s intense focus had transformed into nervous excitement, and he fidgeted in his seat. He licked his lips repeatedly, swallowed frequently, and glanced at Will almost as often as he looked at his mirrors.

“Is… Is there anything you’d like to do now that you’re out?” Matthew asked.

“I’m not really sure what is around here. The last time I lived somewhere, it was in the south near the ocean,” Will said, retaking notice of his surroundings now that he could see more clearly. They were passing a gas station and a dentist's office.

“Well, don’t worry. We’ll figure it out together. I also made a list, in case you need some ideas,” Matthew said. He turned off the main road onto a smaller side street. They drove past neighborhoods and an elementary school before Matthew turned into an apartment complex. The buildings were well-maintained, albeit a little older, and the landscaping was lush and well-tended. Will remained silent as they drove past several buildings.

Matthew pulled into a parking spot, turned off the car, and turned to face Will with a smile. “Home sweet home,” he said.

Unsure how to respond, Will opted for a simple closed-mouth smile. Thankfully, that was more than satisfactory for Matthew, who seemed energized by the small sign of approval. He practically bounded out of the car, retrieved the pillowcase of Will’s belongings, and zipped around the car just in time to open the door for Will.

“Thanks,” Will said, picking up Hannibal’s artwork before joining Matthew outside the car.

“Um, this is my building. Building C,” Matthew said nervously. He started down the sidewalk and had to stop to wait for Will, smiling sheepishly when the omega caught up. “This way,” he said, leading the way toward his door. Matthew fumbled with the keys but soon pushed the door open, allowing Will to step inside.

Will’s first impressions of Matthew’s apartment were of abundant natural light, neutral colors, and the sterile scent of odor neutralizers. After that initial review, details jumped into focus. The apartment was tidy, but it was neither sparse nor utilitarian, as he had assumed it would be. The walls were adorned with generic artwork, and the tabletops featured tasteful knick-knacks, which nonetheless created an inviting atmosphere in the living space. The furniture was worn but in a way that spoke of comfort.

The sound of the door closing behind Matthew and the click of the deadbolt caused the hair on the back of Will’s neck to stand on end, but it wasn’t time to show hesitation or fear. Numerous rounds in the fighting ring had taught Will to use adrenaline to his advantage. Though his opponent this time wasn’t another omega pushed beyond instinct into desperation, but an alpha in his prime in his home territory. Will sent a silent thanks to Hannibal for showing him that an omega could be strong in other ways. “I like your home,” Will said, allowing his eyes to drop from the alpha’s face in a submissive gesture.

Matthew stared at Will for what seemed like an inordinate amount of time. Will found the intense focus unsettling. Then, like a spell breaking, Matthew returned to his usual overeager self. “Thank you,” Matthew said quickly as if making up for his early lapse. “Feel free to make yourself at home. Have a seat if you’d like. Are you hungry? I could cook. Or would you like something to drink?” Matthew asked solicitously. He had retreated to the kitchen and spoke to Will with his head in the refrigerator.

Will couldn’t help but be amused at Matthew’s antics. The orderly went out of his way to impress Will at the BSHCI, but his being just as attentive in his own space would make Will’s job of manipulation that much easier. “I’m okay for now. Maybe we could have lunch in a little while, but could you show me my room?” Will asked.

“I should have done that right away,” Matthew lamented, smacking his forehead with his palm in self-recrimination and leaving a faint red mark behind on his skin. “This way,” he said, leading the way down the apartment’s singular hallway.

Will couldn’t help but wince when Matthew hit himself with such force, but took it generally as a good sign as he followed Matthew down the hall.

“This is the bathroom,” Matthew said, pausing at the first doorway. He turned on the light so Will could see inside the room. “You can use the drawer on the right of the sink,” the orderly added, pointing to the vanity.

Will made a sound of acknowledgement, and they walked to the next door.

“Here’s your room,” Matthew said, opening the door and holding out a hand grandly to indicate that Will should proceed into the room. The orderly stayed in the hall, however, watching from the doorway. “I hope you like it,” he added belatedly when Will stood in the middle of the space, taking in his surroundings.

The room was clean and had a sterile smell. No trace of Matthew’s newsprint and cigar smoke scent lingered in the room, which Will actually appreciated. It would be easier to claim the space as his own without trying to overpower the alpha’s scent. Unlike the main living space, this room contained no personalization at all. There was a single bed, made up with dark green bedding; a nightstand with a matching dresser; and a wingback chair.

The best part of the room was the wide window framed with opaque curtains. The blinds were open, and Will had an unimpeded view outside. Will could see the parking lot and an area of lush landscaping that separated the building from the asphalt. Years of being held captive by Mason, followed by months spent with Hannibal away from natural light, made Will appreciate things that most people take for granted.

“What do you think?” Matthew asked, shifting from foot to foot nervously in the hallway.

Will waited several calculated heartbeats before replying. “It’s… It’s perfect,” he finally said, allowing his voice to become heavy with faux emotion. He turned to face Matthew and forced a few tears from the corners of his eyes for the alpha’s benefit. “It even has a window. I can see the sun every day,” he said, turning his head in the direction of the window.

“Yeah,” Matthew said, his own voice sounding thick. Then, he cleared his throat. “There are some extra blankets and pillows stored under the bed.” He licked his lips several times before asking, “Do you need my help building a nest?” The repressed hope came out more awkwardly than Matthew probably knew.

The orderly was blissfully unaware, but Will had found his true mate, and the last thing he wanted was another alpha to build a nest for him. “I can do it,” Will said shyly. “I’ve been practicing with Hannibal,” he added, unable to resist bringing up his mate’s name.

Matthew valiantly tried to repress his normal possessive instincts, and he would have succeeded if Will had not been looking for any signs of hesitation to exploit.

“I hope that’s okay,” Will said, sounding nervous. Before Matthew could respond, he hurried on as if he expected the orderly would cut him off. “I’ve been working really hard to do it on my own,” he added. This was an opportunity to throw Matthew off his stride and instill feelings of guilt and uncertainty in the alpha.

Matthew looked like someone had kicked him in the gut. “Of course, it’s fine,” he said, though it sounded like he was reassuring himself as much as Will. “I’ll get your stuff and leave you to settle in,” Matthew added. He disappeared for several moments before he returned with the pillowcase of Will’s belongings and set it just inside the door. “Let me know if you need anything,” the alpha said quietly before closing the door.

Will was finally alone. He picked up the pillowcase and set it on the single chair. Putting his few clothes in the drawer only took a few moments. He left his toiletries and Hannibal’s drawing on the dresser and crouched on the floor to look under the bed. As Matthew mentioned, there were extra pillows, sheets, and blankets in storage bins beneath the mattress.

He pulled them out and stripped the bedding from the bed. Then, using the techniques Hannibal had shown him, Will folded, rolled, and shaped the blankets until his nest was soft and comforting. He lay down and stretched, testing the stability of his construction. It had some give but maintained its shape. Somehow, Will knew his mate would approve.

Ceasing his movement to allow his scent to permeate the bedding, Will closed his eyes and relaxed his limbs as Hannibal had taught him. His emotions, inflamed by the events of the day, swirled like eddies beneath the surface, signaling an undertow that could drag him under; however, Will felt was experienced on the water. Instead of allowing the current to drown him, Will thought about Hannibal.

Lying in Hannibal’s arms at the BSHCI, Will had had ample opportunities to memorize his true mate’s sleeping face. He pictured Hannibal’s aristocratic features softened by sleep, his graying-blond hair mussed, and his lips slightly parted. It was the most peaceful sight Will could think of. If Hannibal was relaxed enough to sleep, Will knew he was truly safe.

The mental image of Hannibal was more compelling than Will anticipated. The worries that spread through his brain like brambles disappeared, and shortly thereafter, his consciousness did as well. Will’s sleep was restful until a quiet rap on the door brought him back to awareness sometime later. Pulling himself from the nest, he hurried to the door before Matthew could grow impatient and potentially barge in. Maybe he should lock his door.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Were you sleeping?” Matthew asked when the door opened, looking faintly horrified at the thought of waking Will.

“Just dozing,” Will admitted. A yawn unexpectedly stretched his throat, and he hurried to cover his mouth. “Is it time for lunch?” he asked sleepily. With the door to his room open, Will was confronted with the more pungent smell of Matthew originating from the common areas of the house. Though the alpha had used scent-neutralizing spray around his home, it could only do so much to lessen the scent of the apartment’s primary occupant. Will stepped past Matthew into the hallway and closed the door behind him. He preferred for his space to only smell like him.

“Uh, yeah,” Matthew said, looking toward the kitchen. “Wasn’t sure what you were in the mood for, so I made something light.”

“Sounds good,” Will said, following Matthew into the main living area, where he found two plates on the dining table. Unlike the table in Hannibal’s cell, which was constructed of steel and bolted to the ground, Matthew’s dining table was oak and in desperate need of refinishing. Matthew gave no indication of where he should sit, so Will picked the closest chair.

The alpha returned to the kitchen, mumbling something about drinks, and Will took a moment to study his plate. Matthew had prepared a pasta salad with chicken, tomatoes, and spinach. He even added a sprig of parsley to the plates as a garnish. It looked fresh. Will’s stomach growled.

A moment later, Matthew set two glasses of water on the table and took the seat across from Will. Without any fanfare, the alpha picked up his fork and began to eat. Will followed suit.

Although Will had shared several meals with Matthew at the BSHCI, either outside in the gazebo or in the cafeteria surrounded by patients, eating across from the orderly in the alpha’s apartment felt vastly different from any of the meals they had previously shared.

For one, talking to Matthew didn’t come as easily as expected. Will’s social skills were atrophied from years of seclusion, and small talk was a skill he was still learning. Conversation initially felt stifled, but Will soldiered on, and as the meal progressed, Will relaxed and conversation flowed more freely.

Secondly, Matthew’s unfiltered attention was more intense and more uncomfortable than Will anticipated. There was always a time limit on their interactions at the BSHCI, and their visits were often interrupted by other patients or Matthew’s duties. Will found himself looking down at his plate for most of the meal or utilizing the reflective lens of his glasses to deflect the intensity of the alpha’s gaze.

After lunch, Matthew cleaned the dishes. Will stood somewhat awkwardly on the other side of the counter, watching. He wasn’t sure if he should return to his room, but the orderly turned to him as he dried his hands on a towel. “Would you like to take a walk?” he asked.

“Yes,” Will said, hardly needing time to think about his answer. A walk would give him a chance to stretch his legs and familiarize himself with the surrounding area. Will was also ready for a break from Matthew’s intense scrutiny, and it was only the first day!

Outside, the sun’s warm rays kissed the ground like a parent awakening their sleeping child. A late summer breeze rustled the leaves overhead as they followed the sidewalk away from Matthew’s apartment.

The alpha became more animated as they walked, and Will was surprised to learn Matthew knew quite a bit about the people in his neighborhood. When he expressed interest in the subject, Matthew glanced around several times to make sure they could not be overheard. Then, with a “you didn’t hear this from me,” Matthew shared the latest scandals.

At first, Will was entertained by the gossip, but as they continued, Will found himself paying more attention to the sights and sounds of the neighborhood. Matthew’s recitation was relegated to a slight buzzing in the back of Will’s head. The alpha either didn’t know or didn’t care that his audience wasn’t paying attention to him. He seemed satisfied just having someone to talk to, and Will wondered if the alpha had any friends.

Eventually, the men headed back to Matthew’s apartment, both in improved moods. The fresh air and sunlight had had a rejuvenating effect on Will. When Matthew suggested they make ‘taking a stroll’ a regular occurrence, Will readily agreed. The increased physical activity had drained Will more than expected, so he relaxed at the table with a glass of ice water while Matthew prepared dinner. After dinner, they sat on opposite ends of the sofa and watched a long-running game show that Will remembered watching with his father as a child.

The day had gone quite well, all things considered, but as darkness fell, Will’s mind turned to spending his first night without Hannibal. He glanced at the clock. Hannibal was likely reading or visiting his mind palace. Will closed his eyes and pictured his true mate: garnet eyes, sharp and knowing, and the corners of his mouth softened by a smile. Will took in a long breath, unconsciously seeking his alpha’s iron and parchment scent, but the most pungent odor in the room came from the popcorn he had just eaten, followed by Matthew’s cigar-smoke scent. Will’s shoulders tensed. Neither smell was particularly welcome at that moment.

“I’m tired. I think I’m going to head to bed a little early today,” Will said, leaning forward and raking his fingers through his hair.

“Oh, alright,” Matthew said, seemingly disappointed, but an instant later, he brightened. “I’ll make you breakfast in bed tomorrow morning!” he enthused. The alpha’s eyes turned distant, like he was picturing surprising Will with eggs and bacon.

Will wasn’t sure if this was a proposition to encourage. He didn’t want Matthew to feel free to enter his room, especially when he was sleeping. He should definitely lock his door. “Umm..” Will faltered, searching for the right words. Thankfully, Matthew continued talking, removing the need for him to object.

“No, forget that! I have a better idea!” Matthew proclaimed, waving his arm in the air like he was wielding a sword. “There’s this breakfast cafe that always has a line out the door on weekends.” Matthew turned towards Will on the couch and leaned close, “How does that sound?”

“Sounds… good…” Will said. Though Will was admittedly nervous about going out to a crowded restaurant, it was better than Matthew’s proposed alternative. Besides, feeling comfortable out in public was a necessary step for his recovery.

“Okay, we’ll leave early, hopefully we’ll avoid most of the crowd,” Matthew said, running his tongue over his lips like he could taste maple syrup. Then, the alpha jumped to his feet and hurried to a linen closet in the hallway. Will could see Matthew hunched over, digging through a cardboard box filled with assorted electrical cords and cables. After a few moments, he cheered triumphantly as he pulled a digital alarm clock from the box. He had to pause to free the cord, which was still tangled with other wires. Finally, Matthew returned to the couch and gave the clock to Will, “I forgot to put this in your room. At least now you’ll know what time it is.”

“Thanks,” Will said, standing from the couch. He was about to head to his room when he remembered something. “Could I have some tape or a few thumbtacks? I brought something I’d like to hang in my room,” Will asked.

“Uh, sure,” Matthew said, finding some tape and handing it to Will. “Sweet dreams!” he called when Will turned to go. “If you need anything tonight, just call or come get me,” the alpha added.

“Good night and uh… thanks, Matthew,” Will said. He smiled and forced his eyes to meet the alpha’s.

“I’m here for you, Will,” Matthew said. The words were probably meant to be comforting. Matthew’s eyes, in fact, were warm and admiring, almost fawning. His mouth, however, had extended into a smile that revealed nearly all of his teeth. The borderline-maniacal grin, paired with his sycophantic eyes, made the alpha look like he belonged inside one of the cells at the BSHCI, and Will had no doubt the orderly was a dangerous man.

Will took one step backward, then another, before turning his back on the alpha and heading to his room. His shoulders didn’t relax until he was leaning against his closed and locked bedroom door.

Will thought he was prepared for this transition, but he felt more wrong-footed than expected. He had anticipated an awkward adjustment phase for both of them, but it appeared Matthew was undaunted by any bumps in the road. Will would not have the settling-in period he had hoped for. Instead, starting at breakfast, he would begin the second phase of bending Matthew to his will. It may not have been ideal, but honestly, the sooner Hannibal was free, the better.

Satisfied with his plan, Will plugged in the alarm clock, set the time, and then he got ready for bed. There were thankfully no signs of Matthew when Will left his room to brush his teeth. While Will’s body was busy performing such perfunctory tasks, his mind was free to consider the events of the day. With effort, Will dismissed every thought about the alpha orderly that came into his head, dropping each one intentionally like an ill-fitting garment falling to the floor. By the time Will was finished, he felt like himself again.

Wearing just his white undershirt and boxers, Will climbed into his nest with the rolled parchment he had brought from the BSHCI. Hannibal had been secretive about his gift, working on it when Will was asleep and not permitting the omega to see the piece before it was completed. Even when Hannibal eventually gave the rolled sheet to Will, the omega got the impression Hannibal would prefer Will save the gift and view it alone.

The time had come.

careful reverence, Will unrolled the artwork. Will’s breath hitched, overcome by emotions he couldn’t place upon seeing Hannibal’s drawing: a single black feather on a windowsill.

Hannibal’s dexterity with a graphite pencil was immediately apparent in the rich lines and shading that made up the image. The windowsill was drawn with minimal lines, no suggestion of a house, just the frame with a hint of glass. The feather itself, slightly bent and frayed on one side, was drawn somewhat off-center, as if it had been left on the windowsill by accident, rather than being deliberately placed. Beyond the window lay freedom, implied by a barely visible silhouette of tree and sky.

In a bottom corner, Hannibal had titled his artwork Raven Feather on a Windowsill. The work was unsigned, but that somehow felt more intimate. There was a sense of timelessness to the piece, as if the drawing could have been found in the margins of a centuries-old manuscript. It didn’t demand attention with boldness, but it invited Will to slow down, notice the subtleties, and listen in silence.

Will’s throat tightened and tears stung his eyes. It was beautiful.

Will could easily cast his alpha in the role of the raven. The feather was a sign of the bird’s presence, lingering even after the creature was gone. The window served as a boundary between inner and outer worlds; Hannibal’s introspection versus the freedom Will enjoyed in the world beyond. It was a gift that spoke of absence, and Will felt Hannibal’s absence keenly. Hannibal was neither pleading nor proclaiming but rather was patiently waiting; much like that frayed feather was waiting to be found.

Will raised a hand to run his fingers over the feather, almost expecting to feel the frayed edges, but froze before his skin touched the paper. The graphite appeared both fragile and enduring, like something that could vanish with a touch yet had already lasted a lifetime. Will didn’t want to risk smudging the finely drawn lines. Crawling out of his nest, he taped Hannibal’s drawing to a nearby wall so that he could lie in bed and view it.

He climbed back into his nest, his eyes still focused on the drawing. The more he studied it, the more peaceful he felt.

When Will closed his eyes that night, the drawing was still there, graphite lines etched beneath his eyelids. He could feel Hannibal’s presence in every stroke. Sleep further blurred the line between memory and imagination. Will imagined the artwork lifting free from the paper and floating to his prone form before folding itself into Will. As it settled into his chest, Will could feel the promise it carried, the longing pressed into its fibers, the invisible tether that connected him to Hannibal. And in that half-dark world between waking and dreaming, Will felt close to Hannibal, closer than he had been since leaving the man’s side that morning. He couldn’t wait until they were together again.

🔪🔪

Chapter Text

Hannibal was already awake when the morning buzzer announced the second dawn since Will’s departure. Garnet eyes, dry and fixed in the ceiling, did not react when the bright lights switched on overhead. Hannibal was deep in his mind palace. Whether he had actually gotten any sleep was debatable. Though the alpha appeared unresponsive, his keen mind was actively in tune with his surroundings.

He heard the squeak of a shoe as an orderly walked down the corridor to perform the morning bed check. His nose twitched in disgust at the unmistakable reek of Multiple Miggs fingerpainting with his own feces in the next cell.

Hannibal knew when the orderly noticed the mess, too. There was a curse and the sound of hurried footsteps. Then, a commotion, as the inmate was forcefully removed from his cell and hauled to the shower facilities down the hall. There was a flurry of activity next door as a janitor cleaned the inmate’s cell. Hannibal even heard Barney’s voice once or twice.

Sometime later, a cleaner-Miggs was escorted past Hannibal’s cell and presumably shoved inside his own before the door was slammed shut.

Hannibal remained motionless through it all. Such happenings were fairly frequent in the secure prisoner’s ward, and Hannibal would not benefit in any way by getting involved. The only exception would be if Frederick were present. In that case, Hannibal would happily make a few pointed comments guaranteed to inflame the situation.

The alpha remained motionless when Barney arrived with the food cart, much later than usual due to the circumstances. “Dr. Lecter,” the orderly called.

There was no response.

Barney sighed heavily. “Hannibal,” Barney tried again, his voice taking on a pleading tone.

It was exceedingly rare for Barney to address Hannibal by his first name, even though Hannibal had given him permission long ago. That Barney was doing so now broke through Hannibal’s extended lassitude. With a grunt, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and sat up. His hair felt greasy when he ran his hand through it, and the stale taste in his mouth was overwhelmingly unpleasant. Hannibal smacked his lips several times, though it did little to rectify the issue. He couldn’t recall precisely when he had last brushed his teeth… or eaten, or used the bathroom… Maybe that was the reason Barney was calling him by name. He turned his head to look at the orderly standing on the other side of the glass. Barney appeared relieved, and when he spoke, his voice matched that expression.

“I’m glad to see you up. You haven’t eaten since Will left or done much of anything really,” Barney said, selecting a food tray from the cart. ”Will won’t be pleased to see you like this when he comes back in a day or two,” Barney added in a lighthearted scolding tone. “Anyway, I thought you might want to shave today, so I took it upon myself to get approval from Dr. Chilton.”

Hannibal stood, appearing more alert than he had in at least a day.

Barney pushed the food tray into Hannibal’s cell. Then, he lingered closer to the glass than was permitted as he studied Hannibal’s face with concerned eyes. Barney always followed the rules Frederick set for interacting with each prisoner to the letter, but his concern for those in his care was genuine, Hannibal no less so. “I know the food isn’t as good as it was when Will was here, but you should try to eat. I can’t have him blaming me if he finds you withered on the floor when he comes back.”

Hannibal chuckled darkly as he picked up the tray. “I assure you, he would not blame you,” he said before turning serious. “Thank you, Barney,” he said, simply but sincerely.

Barney cleared his throat. “Don’t go getting all mushy on me, Dr. Lecter,” Barney laughed, diffusing any lingering awkwardness with humor. “I’ll be back later,” he added before pushing the food cart to the next cell.

The food tray contained typical prison fare: rubbery eggs, cold oatmeal, a slice of toast,l and applesauce. Hardly an inspiring breakfast. Hannibal sat in his usual chair and looked across the table to the place Will once occupied. Will wasn’t there, of course, but even the chair was missing, unbolted from the floor and removed along with Will’s mattress and bedding the day Will left with Matthew.

Mechanically, Hannibal stabbed a ball of scrambled eggs with his spork and pushed it past his lips, chewing automatically and dismissing the lack of flavor. His cell felt emptier than ever before. His separation from Will was sharp, like a scalpel’s slice. It felt like a part of himself had been surgically excised, leaving a gaping wound behind.

As an alpha, Hannibal had not anticipated such an intense backlash to his separation from Will, and he wondered how Will was faring. Academic research on true mates was limited, and Hannibal had not put much stock into the phenomenon during his days of school or practice. Though he desperately wished he knew more, he couldn’t risk drawing Frederick’s attention by requesting books on the subject.

In the immediate wake of Will’s departure, Hannibal had nearly lost his grip on the darkness inside. Though he typically viewed his own evil as a deliberate choice and a mark of his superiority, in those initial moments when his restraints fell away, he felt as primal and uncouth as the lowest savage. Hannibal was old friends with rage and contempt, but the disorientation, edginess, and detachment he felt were foreign. Only with all-consuming effort was he able to suppress the instinct to growl and beat on the glass in an attempt to reach Will.

Rather than dealing with the confusing morass head-on, it was much easier for Hannibal to seek the comfort of memories in his mind palace. He had spent the better part of the last two days adrift in his own mind. While his higher consciousness strolled down the streets of his favorite European cities, his subconscious was reforging his self-control.

Barney’s entreaty had roused Hannibal from his deep immersion, but he wasn’t anchored enough to remain wholly in the real world. With minimal effort, Will appeared, sitting across from him at the steel prison table. Then, the familiar walls of his cell faded away, and Hannibal found himself sitting across from Will in the dining room of his former home in Baltimore.

Phantom-Will looked around the room and smirked. “Rather posh, even for you,” he said. “I think a bit of tasteful taxidermy might improve things a bit,” he added, gesturing to the room at large.

Hannibal hummed as he contemplated his former home. It definitely felt like an ill-fitting shoe, especially with Will, even an imagined version, in the space. The decor and ambiance did not suit his mate, and therefore no longer suited him. A home for them to share would be a mix of the two of them. “Tasteful taxidermy? What would you recommend?” he inquired, taking a bite of breakfast, which had transformed from prison fare into one of his favorites: high life eggs made with butter croissants and beef sausage.

“Certainly not any tributes to your previous hobbies, probably not conducive to a life on the run, though I do think a human skull with a monocle and top hat on your mantle might be a nice touch,” Phantom-Will said with a grin. He gestured toward the mantle on one side of the room, and Hannibal saw that his kudu bull horns and ankole cattle horns had disappeared, replaced by a human skull wearing the aforementioned monocle and top hat.

Hannibal raised a brow. “I am a fan of taxidermy, as it happens. I have owned a shoulder-mounted Cape kudu bull and several mounted skulls, including a big-horned sheep and mule deer. They are in my former private study. I can show you after breakfast if you’d like.”

Phantom-Will didn’t comment on the offer of a tour. Instead, he said, “I’ll choose not to make any comments on the phallic nature of those horns and what it might say about you as an alpha.” Drawing attention back to the table, he said, “I was actually thinking of a tabletop piece with driftwood and rainbow trout.” Between one moment and the next, Hannibal's usual centerpiece was gone, and the object Will mentioned was resting in its place.

Hannibal admired the design of the piece. The mounted trout, both large and small, were posed naturally among driftwood branches. The display was long, instead of tall, perfect for Hannibal’s rectangular-shaped table. Guests would easily be able to converse over it, and every angle had something to appreciate. When Hannibal looked around the room again, even though the only changes were the addition of the dapper skull and the replacement of his centerpiece, the room somehow felt more balanced. “I think you might have more taste than you give yourself credit for,” Hannibal said. “Would you catch the fish yourself?”

Phantom-Will looked contemplative. “Probably,” he eventually answered.

The vagueness of the response revealed Hannibal’s uncertainty about how the actual Will would answer that question. Will grew up boating and fishing with his father, and although Hannibal felt relatively certain Will would feel honored by the suggestion and take it as a challenge, there was always the chance Hannibal was wrong.

The disconnect abruptly brought Hannibal out of his mind palace, and he was once again the lone occupant of his cell with nothing to look at but Will’s empty place and the sad remains of his breakfast.

Rising with a sigh, Hannibal pushed his mostly-empty tray through the slot and into the hallway. Turning, he caught a whiff of his own scent, which was starting to smell like old blood and burned parchment mixed with the tang of body odor. It was past time to shower. Thankfully, at that moment, he heard familiar hurried footsteps.

“Dr. Lecter, I’ve got your razor if you still want to shave,” Barney panted when he reached the cell. “That mess with Miggs this morning has knocked my whole schedule off.” Barney picked up the dirty food tray and put a packaged disposable razor in the box, pushing it through to the alpha. “You’ve got time to shave while I pick up the rest of these trays and do a head count.”

“Very well. Thank you, Barney,” Hannibal said.

"A contraband search is scheduled for your cell later today, and I believe Dr. Chilton is planning to come down,” Barney noted.

“I am quivering with eagerness. Or perhaps that’s just contempt finding a new expression,” Hannibal admitted drolly.

Barney chuckled. “See you later, Dr. Lecter,” he said before departing with the food tray.

Hannibal picked up the razor and headed toward the back of his cell. Soon, he stood over the sink, billowing with steam, as he lathered a bar of prison soap. The bar didn’t produce nearly enough suds, but Hannibal nonetheless set about scraping the whiskers from his face. Without a mirror, Hannibal relied upon muscle memory, checking his work with his fingers to ensure no patches of hair were left behind.

After shaving, Hannibal's skin prickled uncomfortably. The buildup of sweat plastered across his body was making itself known, and he was more than ready to shower. He placed the used razor in the box and pushed it through to the corridor, where Barney could retrieve it. Hesitating by the glass, Hannibal listened intently for several seconds, but there was nothing to indicate the guards were on their way to search his cell. He didn’t have any contraband anyway. His books, drawings, and art supplies were still being ransomed for good behavior following his altercation with Jack Crawford. The few books Will left behind had been removed at his departure, along with his mattress and chair.

Hannibal returned to the rear of the cell, turned on the shower, and began to remove his clothes. By the time the water had warmed, the naked alpha was more than ready to step beneath the spray. The water temperature was hot, and though Hannibal had to grit his teeth at first, it was worth the heat when he began to feel renewed. With practiced ease, Hannibal washed his face and body, rinsing sweat away with the suds.

The air around Hannibal was thick with steam, and the scent of institutional soap was almost overwhelming. He wasn't eager to face the day, not with the search of his cell and the unplanned visit from Frederick on the agenda. It would be tedious and time-consuming, and the alpha wanted nothing more than to return to the peaceful confines of his mind palace.

Hannibal leaned his forehead against the tile, closed his eyes, and sighed. He stood motionless for several moments as the shower spray beat down upon his back and relaxed tight muscles. The water droplets traced lines down his clean skin, racing each other toward the floor. He was about to straighten, turn off the water, and commence the day, when he detected the most tantalizing scent.

He breathed deeply, intentionally. The smell was intoxicating, and it seemed to reach right into the core of his being, beckoning his inner alpha. Hannibal’s eyes flew open. He knew that smell. Will. When the scent registered, his nostrils flared, and his mouth started to water. Hannibal was smelling his mate, and the source was close by. Closing his eyes, Hannibal ran his nose along the tile until he reached the source of the alluring smell.

Hannibal’s cock hardened upon realizing he was scenting his mate’s release, and his mind flashed back to overhearing Will pleasuring himself in the shower the morning he left. Will must have wiped his semen on the tile, where it dried on the porcelain surface and in the grout.

Almost involuntarily, Hannibal reached down for his throbbing erection. The muscles of his backside clenched in anticipation as he traced the underside of his cock with a finger. The light touch was an exquisite pleasure, and Hannibal enjoyed it until he needed more. Gripping his cock tightly, he gave it a few pumps to lessen the building pressure.

Then Hannibal froze, his hand still wrapped around his girth. He widened his stance and leaned more into the wall, his face resting right by Will’s dried cum. Hannibal inhaled deeply. Behind his closed lids, his eyes rolled up in bliss as he began to move his hand in earnest.

As he worked himself, waves of pleasure washed over Hannibal, much like the hot water pouring over his skin. Despite the temperature, the fine hairs on his body rose, taut like the rest of him as he chased his climax. The water flowing over his body disturbed those fine hairs, sending cascading sensations along his nerve fibers, adding another layer to Hannibal’s solo undertaking.

Hannibal was a man accustomed to the finer things in life, and he treated his sexual desire much like the other needs of his body. Similar to hunger or thirst, he satisfied his sexual needs when the craving hit, either by pursuing a partner to engage in mutual pleasure or by indulging himself.

Hannibal suppressed a groan. Though he had not been shy about masturbation while in the BSHCI, he had no desire to draw attention to himself during this particular session. The pleasure was steadily rising, but Hannibal needed something more to push him over the edge.

Opening his eyes, he stared at the wall with hazy eyes. He half expected to see Will standing there, arms crossed, head tilted to the side as he studied Hannibal’s technique. The omega wasn’t there, of course. But, in a way… he was. Hannibal snaked out his hot tongue and ran the tip over Will’s cum dried in the grout line. The flavor was slightly salty and distinctly Will.

Hannibal let out a guttural growl as he began rutting into his hand, using his hips to drive himself towards release. Hannibal turned back to the wall and lapped repeatedly at Will’s release with the flat part of his tongue, determined to ingest every part of Will left behind. His chin felt slippery, and he didn’t care whether it was water or saliva.

Will’s face, taut with pleasure, flashed across Hannibal’s eyes, and he brought that memory to the forefront of his mind. Will had looked delicious in that moment, both debauched and ravenous. Alpha!" the omega had cried out in absolute bliss at the moment of his orgasm. Ultimately, Hannibal was unable to hold back his own climax. As his orgasm slammed into him, his eyes closed involuntarily as the delicious sensation washed over him in waves. The growl he released was almost a roar as the last spurts of semen left his tip.

So much for not drawing attention, Hannibal thought ruefully as he panted against the wall. Frederick would watch the footage later, he was sure. Soon, he straightened and cleaned himself. His knees felt weak, and he wasn’t sure if it was from the prolonged hot shower or his activities. Drying himself with a towel, Hannibal prepared himself for the day.

Hannibal felt more blanched and relaxed than when he had risen from his bed that morning. His sexual release proved to be effective at relieving not only his erotic tension but the growing restlessness in Hannibal’s soul as well.

Feeling much more centered, Hannibal returned to the main area of his cell. Wrinkling his nose in disgust at his stale sheets, the alpha opted to sit at the table. With no other sources of entertainment available, he slipped into his mind palace but only superficially. Sometime later, he was brought out of his immersion by the rattling of chains and the clumping of boots on the floor.

Barney came into view first, pushing the hand truck, Hannibal’s unyielding chariot. Hannibal complied with the process without comment, not even when one of the guards parked him less than a foot from the concrete wall. Hannibal’s keen ears tracked the guard’s progress as they stripped his bedding, checked for hidden weapons, and inspected the cell for damage. When the guards finished, Barney and another orderly entered the cell with a rolling bucket, mop, and clean bedding.

Before Hannibal could count the indents in the concrete block, he was mercifully moved to another area of the cell. He caught Barney’s eye when the man stepped from behind him and applied the hand truck’s brake. Hannibal would have nodded in thanks for the orderly’s thoughtfulness, but his head was firmly restrained.

Barney seemed to have understood anyway. He smiled and patted Hannibal’s shoulder. “I imagine you’ve seen enough of these walls by now,” he said. The men set to work cleaning his cell, and Hannibal appreciated their industriousness. As the head orderly, Barney took his responsibilities to his patients seriously, and those working with him acted in kind. Soon, Barney was wringing out the mop for the final time and running a cloth over the stainless steel table and empty shelves. “Almost done. We’ll be out of your hair in a few,” he said.

Before Hannibal could savor the thought of being unrestrained once again, the barred door by the guard’s room slammed, and the measured cadence of leather-soled shoes grew louder. Frederick came into view a moment later with his cane tucked under his arm like a magician. Too bad he couldn’t (or wouldn’t) make himself disappear.

“Ah, Hannibal. You shouldn’t feel obligated to stand on my account,” Frederick said pointedly, eying the hand truck Hannibal was strapped to with a malicious gleam in his eyes.

Hannibal regarded the other doctor with undisguised disdain.

Frederick stood still, watching Hannibal with vague expectation, like a child watching a sleeping animal at the zoo, hoping it would wake up and do something. “I find it amusing, Hannibal, seeing you restrained, even temporarily. How… vulnerable,” he drawled lazily.

Hannibal’s garnet eyes flashed, his stare cold and unyielding. “Vulnerable, perhaps. Helpless, never,” Hannibal replied. “You confuse motion for control, Frederick. It’s charming, in a naive sort of way.”

Chilton didn’t rise to the bait. “Does the solitude weigh on you, Hannibal? Or perhaps you are missing someone you care for?” Chilton questioned, his head cocked to the side as if he was studying a somewhat confusing puzzle.

“You discovered my secret. How clever you are, Frederick,” Hannibal said drolly. “Yes, I am occasionally affected by the absence of those who understand me. You, however, do not qualify. Your…concern… is misplaced.”

Chilton’s lips tightened, but he still had more bile to spew. “You may be clever, Doctor, but that does not make you invincible. Not even you are beyond consequences.”

Hannibal’s eyes narrowed, but his voice remained detached. “I never claimed to be invincible, Frederick, but nor am I naive enough to mistake your restraining me for any kind of victory. You believe your proximity gives you some power over me, but in fact, it only reveals your limitations.”

Chilton’s face darkened further as Hannibal’s jab bruised his ego. He abruptly turned his back on the restrained man and adjusted his tie. When Frederick turned back to Hannibal, his face was composed once again, but his voice trembled with emotion. “Perhaps your brilliance is simply overrated. You’re not as untouchable as you think. I had thought to return your precious books, but now I think I’ll spare you the trouble of being burdened by them.”

Hannibal responded immediately, his words as cutting as a knife. "You polish your shoes, straighten your suit, tame your hair… yet no matter how carefully you arrange yourself, the effect is always the same: a child dressing for authority he does not possess.”

Frederick ground the point of his cane against the floor. He looked furious but was as intimidating as a wet pigeon. “How was your breakfast, Hannibal? Did you enjoy those powdered eggs?” He forced out a laugh. He probably intended the action to be bold, but the actual laugh faded off into a wheeze.

Hannibal closed his eyes and chuckled darkly. “I find it fascinating, Frederick. The more you assert your triumph, the more transparent your insecurities become. You are quite remarkable at making yourself look small.”

“I… You… How dare…,” Frederick sputtered indignantly, not quite able to spit out a coherent thought. With a snarl, he turned to stomp away, but was halted by Hannibal’s next words.

“By the way, Frederick, I win,” Hannibal called tauntingly.

“What?” Chilton grunted, apparently unable to stop himself.

“You called me ‘doctor’ first,” Hannibal said smugly.

Chilton scoffed. Then without another word, he spun on his heel and hurried away..

Barney watched the hospital director’s departure, then met Hannibal’s eyes and chuckled. “That man sure does love the sound of his own voice. I sometimes wonder if he even notices when no one’s listening,” he chuckled. Barney motioned to a pair of guards who were waiting at the guard’s desk, before turning to Hannibal. “Now let's take off those restraints.”

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