We Grow Accustomed To The Dark

Chapter 11

"Knew it all along, I would do you wrong. I should've tried harder, fed all those lies to you, but my blackened soul lets you come in close."
― The Sweeplings, Fool

***

Hannibal had spent the next several days with little to no contact from Will and to be honest, the space gave him room to breathe. It gave him room to detox himself from the profiler and clear his foggy head.

Or that was what he had wanted to do with the time, but constant messages from both Beverly and Jack to give him nearly hourly updates on the man's condition plagued his days. He was more grateful for Beverly's updates than Jack's, but it was enough for Hannibal to finally turn his phone off. If his patients needed him, they could call his office line and he would check it later in the day.

That day was more focused on his patients and then his swim before trying to make dinner. He had nearly forgotten about his phone until the screen again lit up. Hannibal gave an annoyed sigh and set his knife aside, wiping his hands on a dish towel before picking up his phone. He was firmly going to ignore anything that came from either of those three people, Will included, when a different name appeared on his screen. A name that had called him several times as well as left him several voicemails and texts.

He hurried to answer the call, placing the phone to his ear. "Alana?" he asked. "Is everything alright?"

"I've been trying to get a hold of you for hours!" she scolded through the line.

"What's wrong, Alana?"

"I have been dealing with Will. He won't listen to any of us," she explained in a hurried tone and Hannibal listened silently, unsure what to say. Half of his body was tugging him in Will's direction, wanting to check on the man and see what was wrong. The other half was telling Hannibal to let it be. If they were so worried about Will they could take him to the hospital and let them deal with it. "He's having a breakdown. According to Jack, you're the only one who's been able to calm him down."

"Is Miss Katz there?" Hannibal asked instead, his legs burning with a nervous energy that made him want to move, but he forced himself to stay in place.

"We've been trying to get to him, Hannibal. When you weren't answering, Jack called me. I've never known you to not answer your phone."

"Get to him?" Hannibal's fingers tapped on the counter, dinner completely forgotten. "What do you mean?"

"He's unresponsive. He freaked out at this crime scene and has been sitting in the back of an ambulance in a shock blanket for hours."

"I'm not entirely sure what it is you would like me to do."

Hannibal's weight shifted to his other foot and he bit his lip. Remember the pictures replayed like a mantra in his head. Over and over and over to hold his resolve strong. But was he ever strong with Will?

"It's almost as if he's suffering from UWS," Alana further explained. "I know that's not what it is, but-"

"Unresponsive wakefulness?" Hannibal interrupted with a shake of his head. "I doubt that, but either way, if he's in shock or extreme distress, he needs to be taken to the hospital."

"He wasn't injured. It's psychological. He needs to be removed from the scene, but he won't leave." Alana sounded exhausted, as if she was far past her limits. "He'll snap out of it."

"Move him then. Jack's a strong man. Have him physically-"

"He keeps saying your name," Alana cut in. "Anytime one of us tries to touch him, he shoves us away and just repeats your name until he falls silent again."