Alcuin woke feeling a little strange, but then he realized that he must have climbed into Hannibal's bed in the middle of the night again. A bit embarrassed, he scooted away from Hannibal's sleeping form before climbing out of the covers. He pushed his hair out of his eyes. It was getting a little too long again, enough so that people would be
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"What do you want to do today? I have the day off - we can do whatever you'd like to do."
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Life could be so simple these days. It was all superficial, of course. The young boy was severly traumatized and nightmares and dark days lurked around every corner. But sometimes they could just pretend there was nothing wrong and be cheerful for cheer's sake.
It was nurtured, of course, Alcuin's closeness and his trust in the doctor. Hannibal wanted what was best for Alcuin and he knew that he was best for him.
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Alcuin hesitated, having suddenly a thought that seemed important, almost too important to actually say. Finally, he just blurted it out.
"Hannibal, do you think you'll adopt me?"
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"I want what's best for you. I don't know if adopting you would be best. Why do you ask? Have you been thinking about it?"
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He thought on his next words for a moment, but decided to speak them. He wanted to be truthful to this child. There was a purity to him that he wanted to respect and truth was respectful. "It scares me a little," he said. While he wouldn't exactly use the term 'scare' to himself (someone who doesn't fear life's end can't factually be scared), he found it was as close to the truth he could utter. "The thought of this being permanent."
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It was going to be a good day.
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