You'd think, in three or four hours, that the panic of a situation would have worn off. But in the hours that Will had been forced to wait it had slowly mounted up until it was bearing down on him, grating on him. Until his stomach felt like so many knots, coiling and twisting.
George was usually a welcome sight through the door but not today. Today Will wanted him to go back to work so that the need to ask the questions, to know the answers, had worn off. He probably did look like hell, sitting there glaring at the wall. He'd focused on an exact spot, a little mark on the wallpaper, and he'd given it his full attention from the second he'd sat down. If looks could kill the wall would be burning down
( ... )
"Christ, if you went I don't know what I'd do and I know you're not going anywhere but ..." Will put his mouth to George's hair and murmured, "Everyone I love gets taken away. I don't want you on the list."
"I never said anyone would take you. But people leave, or I shove them so far away they don't want to come back." Will heaved a breath. It was hard, very hard talking about any of this. "What else do you want to know?" he asked. As he said it, he shifted sideways to lay his head on George's lap, curling into him.
"What do you want to tell me love? I know you desperately want to tell me something and I know I won't be able to guess what it is..." He stroked Will's hair, gently.
"I want to tell you a lot of things, George. I want to tell you that I'm sorry. I want to tell you what it was like with Hannibal - -" and he'd said his name. The second it was out of Will's mouth he stopped, his whole body going still. It was 'Lecter' ... his own private distancing technique. Not Hannibal. Never Hannibal.
"I don't know what to tell you or where to start, George. I really don't. There's so much ... shit, just buried down and half of it I don't want to think about. I don't know what to tell you." Will turned around, buried his face into George's stomach.
Will's eyes were still closed, his face pressed to George's warmth when he finally said, "The reason I don't tell you things is the same reason you didn't tell the people you slept with you liked being spanked. Afraid they'd use it against you."
That was the hardest part in all of this. Trying to make George understand it wasn't anything he'd done it was just, in general, Will's past. It was Will's past with Lecter. It was Will's past with Molly and Jack ... it wasn't anything George did. Or could do. But he didn't quite know how to put that across.
"It's ... Hannibal," there was the name again, "Knew everything about me. We'd lay in bed and I'd scrape the bottom of me to give him everything, let him know what was inside my head because he understood. Then when ... everything he knew, he used as a weapon. Everything cut deeper and I could lie staring up in a hospital bed knowing he knew everything about me and the people I had around me knew nothing
( ... )
"But why does he still have everything and the rest of us nothing? That's why he has such the hold on you, love. You've given him all that. You've not given the people who love you equal ammunition in the fight. ...and you know I won't hurt you. I'm not like that... "
"Because, after giving him everything, it's hard to learn to give again. I know, in here," Will tapped his chest, "That you won't hurt me. But up here," a finger against his temple, "It's not so clear."
He could see now, Hannibal's face scoffing at him. "How vain are we to think that the people we love only have our best interests at heart, Will?" he'd said that once. A long time ago. And ever since then Will has been trying to dissprove it.
"I'll tell you. Anything you want to know. It's easier to answer a question. But it'll take a little longer to start telling you things right off."
"Ok... but don't be angry with me..." He held Will's gaze, hoping that he'd answer. "Will, love, I saw something I probably shouldn't have... but see it I did. Why did you go away for a bit? After killing that Hobbs bloke? "
Will's eyes glanced over George's face. There wasn't much in the way of his past that he'd shared with George. "What did you see?" he asked, thinking quickly where he could have heard about that. Then slowly he asked, "Away where?"
"Away... to the hospital... was in your book. Fell out of the closet and nearly brained me. Was looking for my clothes that are missing. Figured you'd stashed them so I wouldn't wear them anymore."
"Oh." Will knew he should have moved it in the first place but ... he never went near it if he could help it. It was a heavy scrapbook. The cuttings from every newspaper featuring him and Hannibal were in it, letters, pictures ... "I couldn't cope. I didn't have to kill Hobbs. I had a clear shot, I'm good with a gun," even though he almost never wanted to touch one and hardly ever did, "I could have taken him down without killing him."
George was usually a welcome sight through the door but not today. Today Will wanted him to go back to work so that the need to ask the questions, to know the answers, had worn off. He probably did look like hell, sitting there glaring at the wall. He'd focused on an exact spot, a little mark on the wallpaper, and he'd given it his full attention from the second he'd sat down. If looks could kill the wall would be burning down ( ... )
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That was the hardest part in all of this. Trying to make George understand it wasn't anything he'd done it was just, in general, Will's past. It was Will's past with Lecter. It was Will's past with Molly and Jack ... it wasn't anything George did. Or could do. But he didn't quite know how to put that across.
"It's ... Hannibal," there was the name again, "Knew everything about me. We'd lay in bed and I'd scrape the bottom of me to give him everything, let him know what was inside my head because he understood. Then when ... everything he knew, he used as a weapon. Everything cut deeper and I could lie staring up in a hospital bed knowing he knew everything about me and the people I had around me knew nothing ( ... )
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He stroked Will's back.
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He could see now, Hannibal's face scoffing at him. "How vain are we to think that the people we love only have our best interests at heart, Will?" he'd said that once. A long time ago. And ever since then Will has been trying to dissprove it.
"I'll tell you. Anything you want to know. It's easier to answer a question. But it'll take a little longer to start telling you things right off."
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"Will, love, I saw something I probably shouldn't have... but see it I did. Why did you go away for a bit? After killing that Hobbs bloke? "
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