Will looked at his old files and huffed, reading all the scathing comments about him as a child. He looked up at Hannibal and shrugged, unsure as to whether or not what he just said was just in his head.
“You’re from Louisiana, aren’t you Will?”
Will shot a wary look at Hannibal, it was a tired warning for him not to pry, “Might’ve been.”
“Tell me about your time there.”
Hannibal watched as Wills face scrunched and wetted his bottom lip, his eyes darted up at Hannibal’s eyebrows in a way he knew was Wills patience running thin, he glared another warning at Hannibal.
Wills words echoed in Hannibal’s head, Will shifted in his seat and spoke, an accent unfamiliar to Hannibal breaking through his much more reserved voice, it was almost French, yet it didn’t sound quite right, it intrigued Hannibal as he leaned in to savour it.
“You don’t wanna know about my childhood.” His warning was stern, yet Hannibal was too engrossed in trying to place what Will let slip.
Will felt a buzz in his trousers and reached into his pocket to pull out his cracked phone, he glanced at the caller ID and sighed, holding it to his ear.
“We’ve got an... issue down here, potentially the ripper, and there’s a guy down here who says he knows you?”
Will visibly bristled, “what’s he look like?”
“Older guy, dark hair, Cajun.”
“I’m coming over, but I’m sure as hell not talking to him. Tell him to piss off.”
“What’s gotten you so riled up?”
“Tell you later, just get that guy the hell away, got it?”
Will hung up and tossed his phone into Hannibal’s expensive couch. Hannibal could feel the anger radiating off of the boy, something about this mystery stranger had sent him off the rails, something Hannibal could perhaps use to his advantage.
Hannibal was as fascinated with the boy in front of him almost as much as he was enamoured by him.
Jack approached Will, who had been staring at the rippers newest victims, both to profile but also to avoid having to confront the man stood at the tape.
“He’s still there.” Will stated dryly, not bothering to look at Jack.
“Dr. Lecter asked to talk with him.”
A puff of water vapour appeared as Will exhaled, reminding him of the bitter cold that was creeping up in the winter months. He rubbed his hands together in effort to heat them up as Jack sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.
“What is it about that random guy that’s made you so antsy?”
“He’s not a random guy, he’s my...” Will trailed off.
Jack’s eyes widened slightly and looked at the man and back at Will.
“Unfortunately... I thought he was dead.”
He nodded, heading over to Hannibal, who was having a smarmy conversation with the older man. He suddenly turned to Jack and held his hand out, he shook it and gave a courteous nod.
Hannibal’s brow furrowed at the man in front of him, wondering just how he knew his Will. His scalpel slipped from his pocket into his palm as he listened into Jack and his conversation.
“Jack Crawford, FBI. You said you knew Dr. Graham?”
The man chuckled, “Doctor Graham? Didn’t expect that couyon to survive the first winter after running away, let alone make it long enough to become a doctor!”
“He was very upset when he heard that you were here, who are you?”
“Where is he?”
Hannibal’s eavesdropping was interrupted when Will came stomping over, he stepped beside him, wrapping a protective arm around Wills waist and pulling him in close as they approached the man.
Wills face scrunched into a scowl when he approached, a bad memory flashed across his eyes, Hannibal watched as the audacious and unflinching man in his arms slinked back into an anxious and skittish child as they got closer.
It suddenly clicked in Hannibal’s mind, the accent, Wills sudden change in personality.
This was his father.
“You have some nerve showing your face round here after all the shit you’ve done,” Will snarled, baring his teeth like a feral dog as that accent let slip in front of Hannibal came back full swing, Cajun, he noted, “Piss off.”
“I came to see if you had finally become a man after all these years, you seemed quite adamant about that fact when you were a kid.”
“You’ve seen me, I’m a man, now fuck off and stay the hell away from me until you drop dead.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“Oh, I absolutely do mean it.”
“You know I’m the only one that knows about you and your mother.”
Will visibly bristled at the mention, the hairs on the back of his neck standing upright, earning a look of concern from Hannibal as to why the sentence had Will so spooked.
Wills dad turned to Hannibal, “and who’s this?”
“Dr. Hannibal Lecter, I’m Wills partner.”
“I suppose that also works.”
The man made a slight ‘humph’ before turning his attention back onto Will, who was fidgeting with the frayed hem of his shirt and tugging absentmindedly at the loose threads. Hannibal made a note to buy him another shirt.
“Count to 13.” He said, it was a simple enough request in Hannibal’s mind. ‘Demand?’ Whatever it was, Will flipped out.
“Oh come on! You're fucking obsessed with that thing, give it up! I’m not one, and mom wasn’t one either! She died in childbirth!” He barked.
“You know that’s just what you tell yourself.”
“There is no loup-garou! It’s an old wives tale that you told me at night to stop me from running off in the woods while you hunted!”
“Then count to 13, if you’re so sure.”
“You fucking abandoned me!”
Hannibal silently noted Wills relationship with his father, his little quirks and insecurities suddenly had a reason as to why they were part of him.
His eagerness to please others, his craving for praise, the abandonment issues, he bitterly remembered the time he had approached Will too quickly, which had made the boys arms fly up to his face, protecting his vital organs.
A surge of protectiveness shot up Hannibals spine, he pulled Will in closer, giving a dirty look at his father.
He needed to be cut out of the equation if Will were to fully heal.
And Hannibal was more than happy to provide that healing for Will.