Darling Will
In all of our lives, there are moments when we are completely helpless. Moments when the precious control we all strive for is snatched away from us, and no amount of screaming or raging or fist shaking will make it any less terrifying, or any more untrue.
*
“Stupid thing …” Will disentangled his jacket from the fence and dropped down to the ground quietly, eyeing the house with something between annoyance and trepidation. He’d had fish and chips. And a long walk. And sorely did not want to face Kurt’s inevitable lecture.
However, going back in meant facing the music. He felt like a teenager sneaking back from a late party that he’d been strictly forbidden to go to. But, dammit, he wasn’t going to be cooped up with bodyguard around the clock. And it had been nice, just pacing around in no particular direction, aimless for a change.
Oh, well. Nothing for it, was there? Maybe he could sneak in if he was careful. Maybe they hadn’t really noticed he was missing. So, sticking to the shadows, Will slid up and along the side of the house, crossing his fingers that no one was going to drag him inside by the collar and scream at him about being an idiot for an hour. Mind you, George was at the football and it was starting to rain, so he wouldn’t be home …
“Hello, Will.”
The hand came from nowhere, clamping over his mouth and twisting his neck into such an odd angle that the slightest movement would have surely snapped bone. Before Will had a chance, to blink, to shout, to even properly recognise that voice, a scent hit his nose. It was thick, something almost like disinfectant. His brain tried to process it, tell him he knew exactly what it was but his arms wouldn’t work and so his fingers clawed at his sides to no effect. There wasn’t even air in his lungs to whimper and, as the world started to blank out, Will’s legs left him a slumped figure in the darkness.
Slumped against Hannibal Lecter.
*
"Will!" George tossed his keys in the dish and dropped his boots and kit in the hall. "Where are you, love? Match was t’riffic!" he sniffed the odd odour coming from the kitchen. "Smells good! Kurt cooking?"
George shuffled in, hair windblown, dirt encrusted in his skin and clothes rumpled. He peeked in and saw the table set. That was something entirely new. He drifted in to look.
There was complete silence from the house. Will had been dozing almost, the drugs wearing off, the pain swallowing him to a point where breathing was difficult. Then George yelled. He started awake in the chair, jerking everything, including his arm which was laying on his lap at an odd, sickening angle. He tried to move it and found he didn't have the ability to scream when it felt like it was tearing flesh and muscle with bone.
"Ah, ah, ah. Now we have to be very, very quiet, don't we Will?" Hannibal finished polishing the knife in his hands with the white cloth he'd brought from downstairs. His dinner suit was freshly pressed, new looking. Will wondered where his had come from. If it was his old one. He couldn't see straight. "I do hope Sergeant Carter doesn't have to suffer unduly."
"Oi, love ... someone in there with you?" George was feeling wrong. "Will?" Blood was starting to pound in his ears and he pulled at his jeans for his wand.
Will whimpered softly in the back of his throat and turned his head, ignoring the spinning room, trying to see where Hannibal had gone to. He needn't have bothered. His hand grabbed at Will's hair and a tiny sound escaped him, head drawn back and a wave of sickness creeping over him.
George blinked and felt quite sick. He stopped in his tracks and tried not to gag.
"Shh. I won't tell you again," Hannibal whispered into Will's ear and tears of frustration came to his eyes. He had to warn George somehow. Baby, please don't come up, please … fingers tightened in his hair.
"Will's what's wrong? Where are you?" he ran up the stairs as fast as he could.
"Oh, he does like his drama, doesn't he?" Hannibal kissed the top of Will's ear. He wanted to tell him no, George wasn't like that. It was an absurd notion but he desperately wanted to explain that George didn't like drama. The footsteps on the stairs brought him back to reality. "No ..."
"Will... " he flung open the bedroom door and his jaw dropped. There was Will, in his dinner clothes, arm at an awful angle and an old man who could only be Lecter grinning evilly. His stomach lurched.
"Well, how pleasant to meet you finally, George. We've been expecting you. Do come in." The knife in his hand was by his side, not doing anything for not, except for glinting far too close to Will for safety. "Please don't try anything foolish. Will isn't up to it at the moment, are you Will?"
Will lifted his eyes to George's and tried to show him how sorry he was but all that came through, he suspected, was desperation. He had to get out of here. Now. What Hannibal lacked in youthful strength he made up for in experience. Please.
George didn't move. He just let his hands drop enough to be near his wand. "Hello Dr. Lechter... "
"Did you like our table, downstairs?" Hannibal asked, a wide smile on his face. He could almost have been called happy. "I hope you're joining us?" A tear rolled onto Hannibal's finger and without so much as a glance down, he let go of Will's hair and pressed the cloth into his hand, the one with the broken arm. "Clean yourself up, Will." The pain made him almost slide to the floor.
George blinked as the pain hit him. "What'd you do to him?" His chin trembled and his gut clenched.
"Oh, we had a little accident, didn't we Will?" Hannibal stroked his damp face. "He was rather ... over-enthusiastic. For some reason he didn't want you to join our party."
"Just relax love..." George didn't take his eyes from Lecter. "Met Kurt have ya?"
"Why, yes. Pleasant fellow." Hannibal stepped to one side carefully. Kurt's feet were behind him. "Unfortunately he won't be joining us this evening. He didn't like what was on the menu."
George's eyes flicked over Kurt's immobile form. He knew he was blanching but he'd be damned if he showed any fear. "Rude to leave him out ain't it?" He very slowly crept his hand towards his wand.
"I wouldn't think so," Hannibal said. His eyes were looking directly to George's. He saw the movement before George even thought about it. "Please don't. I'll ask you only once." The knife touched Will's throat. He tried to wriggle and a thin trail of blood streaked his neck and the white collar of his shirt.
George stopped. "For all you talk of manners, you don't think nothin’ of bustin’ into a bloke's home and trying to kill him do ya?"
That didn't sit very well and Hannibal ignored it. "What did you do with Will's gifts?" he asked, as if he didn't know the answer. Will moaned, trying to move and Hannibal's fingers twisted savagely in his hair.
"Give 'em to Crawford ... Sorry I didn't send a note. Didn't know where it should go..." he bristled a bit, hand moving ever slightly more towards his wand. He was happily calm now that it had finally come down to it. He just needed to do what he had to.
"No matter, I'm sure Agent Crawford had some delightful fun with them, anyway." Hannibal half lifted Will by his hair and made him face George but it was all in the manner of simply helping him to sit up. "You have something to say, don't you, Will?" The tiny nod wasn't enough and Hannibal shook him. "L ... lov ... love ... y ... y ... you ..." he whimpered. "Ah, good. He's been simply dying to say that all night. Okilydokily. Time to get moving."
"Love you too darlin‘ ... Shall I help him up instead?" his eyes again did not move from Lecter's.
"Yes, I think so. It would probably be more practical." Hannibal stood back a few paces but the knife was still there, ready. "When it suits you." Will's fingers twitched, wanting to hold his hand out for George, unable to.
Smoothly George set himself between Lecter and Will, pulling out his wand.
Eyes widening, Will didn't have the power in him to hide his surprise. Hannibal noticed it and moved forward again, as if to snatch Will from George's grip.
George strong armed him away , bringing his wand to bear. "Pertificus totalis!" he barked it out.
Lecter took one step forward before the charm hit and it worked, from bottom to top, legs first. His eyes widened slightly, surprised. It was a curious sensation. The knife flew. Will's eyes couldn't follow it, it was too quick for him, but the red spray that gushed warmly over his cheek made him jerk his head around as Hannibal's body fell like a lead weight at his feet.
"Shit ..." The wand clattered to the floor as George slumped down on the edge of the bed.
"Ge ..." Will leant forward but he couldn't hold himself and he landed on his side, on his bad arm. The silent scream was all that he managed before the pain pulled him under.
“Better asleep love..." He patted Will on the hand and took a shallow breath. The knife poked out from under his ribcage. He toed at Kurt's hand to see if he would wake and scoped the room for something to bind Lecter with. The edges of his vision were already starting to go dark.
After a few seconds Kurt moaned low in his throat and golden eyes flew open. "Will!" the sound hurt his head and he realised with a start that he was bound. Teleporting seemed a bad idea but he did it anyway, landing in a heap beside Will. "George ... mein Gott ..."
"How's your head, love ..." he gasped. He tried not to feel the blood oozing out and all over.
"Shit ..." Kurt's hands went out for George, head spinning, throbbing but not enough to distract him from the impossibly bright trails of blood staining the carpet and Will's shirt. "Come here." He made George sit and snatched at the bedding, ripping strips.
"Kurt, love ... Can you please tie this bastard up so tight his balls look like earrings? And then call ..." he sighed as his eyes rolled up into his head and he slid off the edge of the bed and onto the floor.
"Shit," Kurt wasn't one to panic, he never had been and Logan had been stabbed, beaten to within an inch of his life and shot all very close together and so he breathed, keeping himself calm. The strips packed around the wound, leaving the knife in where it was. Then he grabbed the phone, holding it with his tail and binding Lecter with his hands. If the knife hadn't have been in George he would have slit his throat. Happily.
OOC: This is being put up in several parts. It's all been written in advance so it's a case of waiting for personal entires about this to come up before anyone hosptial visits or the suchlike. There should be something on Charlie's journal about it soon. And for those of you who don't have it already - insideaviolin - Molly's LJ. There will be posts there as well. Cheers!
*
“Stupid thing …” Will disentangled his jacket from the fence and dropped down to the ground quietly, eyeing the house with something between annoyance and trepidation. He’d had fish and chips. And a long walk. And sorely did not want to face Kurt’s inevitable lecture.
However, going back in meant facing the music. He felt like a teenager sneaking back from a late party that he’d been strictly forbidden to go to. But, dammit, he wasn’t going to be cooped up with bodyguard around the clock. And it had been nice, just pacing around in no particular direction, aimless for a change.
Oh, well. Nothing for it, was there? Maybe he could sneak in if he was careful. Maybe they hadn’t really noticed he was missing. So, sticking to the shadows, Will slid up and along the side of the house, crossing his fingers that no one was going to drag him inside by the collar and scream at him about being an idiot for an hour. Mind you, George was at the football and it was starting to rain, so he wouldn’t be home …
“Hello, Will.”
The hand came from nowhere, clamping over his mouth and twisting his neck into such an odd angle that the slightest movement would have surely snapped bone. Before Will had a chance, to blink, to shout, to even properly recognise that voice, a scent hit his nose. It was thick, something almost like disinfectant. His brain tried to process it, tell him he knew exactly what it was but his arms wouldn’t work and so his fingers clawed at his sides to no effect. There wasn’t even air in his lungs to whimper and, as the world started to blank out, Will’s legs left him a slumped figure in the darkness.
Slumped against Hannibal Lecter.
*
"Will!" George tossed his keys in the dish and dropped his boots and kit in the hall. "Where are you, love? Match was t’riffic!" he sniffed the odd odour coming from the kitchen. "Smells good! Kurt cooking?"
George shuffled in, hair windblown, dirt encrusted in his skin and clothes rumpled. He peeked in and saw the table set. That was something entirely new. He drifted in to look.
There was complete silence from the house. Will had been dozing almost, the drugs wearing off, the pain swallowing him to a point where breathing was difficult. Then George yelled. He started awake in the chair, jerking everything, including his arm which was laying on his lap at an odd, sickening angle. He tried to move it and found he didn't have the ability to scream when it felt like it was tearing flesh and muscle with bone.
"Ah, ah, ah. Now we have to be very, very quiet, don't we Will?" Hannibal finished polishing the knife in his hands with the white cloth he'd brought from downstairs. His dinner suit was freshly pressed, new looking. Will wondered where his had come from. If it was his old one. He couldn't see straight. "I do hope Sergeant Carter doesn't have to suffer unduly."
"Oi, love ... someone in there with you?" George was feeling wrong. "Will?" Blood was starting to pound in his ears and he pulled at his jeans for his wand.
Will whimpered softly in the back of his throat and turned his head, ignoring the spinning room, trying to see where Hannibal had gone to. He needn't have bothered. His hand grabbed at Will's hair and a tiny sound escaped him, head drawn back and a wave of sickness creeping over him.
George blinked and felt quite sick. He stopped in his tracks and tried not to gag.
"Shh. I won't tell you again," Hannibal whispered into Will's ear and tears of frustration came to his eyes. He had to warn George somehow. Baby, please don't come up, please … fingers tightened in his hair.
"Will's what's wrong? Where are you?" he ran up the stairs as fast as he could.
"Oh, he does like his drama, doesn't he?" Hannibal kissed the top of Will's ear. He wanted to tell him no, George wasn't like that. It was an absurd notion but he desperately wanted to explain that George didn't like drama. The footsteps on the stairs brought him back to reality. "No ..."
"Will... " he flung open the bedroom door and his jaw dropped. There was Will, in his dinner clothes, arm at an awful angle and an old man who could only be Lecter grinning evilly. His stomach lurched.
"Well, how pleasant to meet you finally, George. We've been expecting you. Do come in." The knife in his hand was by his side, not doing anything for not, except for glinting far too close to Will for safety. "Please don't try anything foolish. Will isn't up to it at the moment, are you Will?"
Will lifted his eyes to George's and tried to show him how sorry he was but all that came through, he suspected, was desperation. He had to get out of here. Now. What Hannibal lacked in youthful strength he made up for in experience. Please.
George didn't move. He just let his hands drop enough to be near his wand. "Hello Dr. Lechter... "
"Did you like our table, downstairs?" Hannibal asked, a wide smile on his face. He could almost have been called happy. "I hope you're joining us?" A tear rolled onto Hannibal's finger and without so much as a glance down, he let go of Will's hair and pressed the cloth into his hand, the one with the broken arm. "Clean yourself up, Will." The pain made him almost slide to the floor.
George blinked as the pain hit him. "What'd you do to him?" His chin trembled and his gut clenched.
"Oh, we had a little accident, didn't we Will?" Hannibal stroked his damp face. "He was rather ... over-enthusiastic. For some reason he didn't want you to join our party."
"Just relax love..." George didn't take his eyes from Lecter. "Met Kurt have ya?"
"Why, yes. Pleasant fellow." Hannibal stepped to one side carefully. Kurt's feet were behind him. "Unfortunately he won't be joining us this evening. He didn't like what was on the menu."
George's eyes flicked over Kurt's immobile form. He knew he was blanching but he'd be damned if he showed any fear. "Rude to leave him out ain't it?" He very slowly crept his hand towards his wand.
"I wouldn't think so," Hannibal said. His eyes were looking directly to George's. He saw the movement before George even thought about it. "Please don't. I'll ask you only once." The knife touched Will's throat. He tried to wriggle and a thin trail of blood streaked his neck and the white collar of his shirt.
George stopped. "For all you talk of manners, you don't think nothin’ of bustin’ into a bloke's home and trying to kill him do ya?"
That didn't sit very well and Hannibal ignored it. "What did you do with Will's gifts?" he asked, as if he didn't know the answer. Will moaned, trying to move and Hannibal's fingers twisted savagely in his hair.
"Give 'em to Crawford ... Sorry I didn't send a note. Didn't know where it should go..." he bristled a bit, hand moving ever slightly more towards his wand. He was happily calm now that it had finally come down to it. He just needed to do what he had to.
"No matter, I'm sure Agent Crawford had some delightful fun with them, anyway." Hannibal half lifted Will by his hair and made him face George but it was all in the manner of simply helping him to sit up. "You have something to say, don't you, Will?" The tiny nod wasn't enough and Hannibal shook him. "L ... lov ... love ... y ... y ... you ..." he whimpered. "Ah, good. He's been simply dying to say that all night. Okilydokily. Time to get moving."
"Love you too darlin‘ ... Shall I help him up instead?" his eyes again did not move from Lecter's.
"Yes, I think so. It would probably be more practical." Hannibal stood back a few paces but the knife was still there, ready. "When it suits you." Will's fingers twitched, wanting to hold his hand out for George, unable to.
Smoothly George set himself between Lecter and Will, pulling out his wand.
Eyes widening, Will didn't have the power in him to hide his surprise. Hannibal noticed it and moved forward again, as if to snatch Will from George's grip.
George strong armed him away , bringing his wand to bear. "Pertificus totalis!" he barked it out.
Lecter took one step forward before the charm hit and it worked, from bottom to top, legs first. His eyes widened slightly, surprised. It was a curious sensation. The knife flew. Will's eyes couldn't follow it, it was too quick for him, but the red spray that gushed warmly over his cheek made him jerk his head around as Hannibal's body fell like a lead weight at his feet.
"Shit ..." The wand clattered to the floor as George slumped down on the edge of the bed.
"Ge ..." Will leant forward but he couldn't hold himself and he landed on his side, on his bad arm. The silent scream was all that he managed before the pain pulled him under.
“Better asleep love..." He patted Will on the hand and took a shallow breath. The knife poked out from under his ribcage. He toed at Kurt's hand to see if he would wake and scoped the room for something to bind Lecter with. The edges of his vision were already starting to go dark.
After a few seconds Kurt moaned low in his throat and golden eyes flew open. "Will!" the sound hurt his head and he realised with a start that he was bound. Teleporting seemed a bad idea but he did it anyway, landing in a heap beside Will. "George ... mein Gott ..."
"How's your head, love ..." he gasped. He tried not to feel the blood oozing out and all over.
"Shit ..." Kurt's hands went out for George, head spinning, throbbing but not enough to distract him from the impossibly bright trails of blood staining the carpet and Will's shirt. "Come here." He made George sit and snatched at the bedding, ripping strips.
"Kurt, love ... Can you please tie this bastard up so tight his balls look like earrings? And then call ..." he sighed as his eyes rolled up into his head and he slid off the edge of the bed and onto the floor.
"Shit," Kurt wasn't one to panic, he never had been and Logan had been stabbed, beaten to within an inch of his life and shot all very close together and so he breathed, keeping himself calm. The strips packed around the wound, leaving the knife in where it was. Then he grabbed the phone, holding it with his tail and binding Lecter with his hands. If the knife hadn't have been in George he would have slit his throat. Happily.
OOC: This is being put up in several parts. It's all been written in advance so it's a case of waiting for personal entires about this to come up before anyone hosptial visits or the suchlike. There should be something on Charlie's journal about it soon. And for those of you who don't have it already - insideaviolin - Molly's LJ. There will be posts there as well. Cheers!