"Is it fate, or it just infamy?" A Hannigram fanfic

Chapter 5: "The Angel with Flightless Wings"

Will rubbed his freshly shaven chin with a breathy huff. The stubble poking his hand a bit.  He pulled his hand away to unbuckle his seatbelt. Hannibal Lecter had pulled out the keys to the ignition, shoving the key ring into his pocket of his dress pants. Wasn't Hannibal just a bit,, too dressed up for the occasion? It made Will feel a bit scummy. Hell, he was only wearing a flannel, a blank shirt under it, some jeans and his usual shoes. It seemed like Hannibal had a new outfit everyday, when Will probably hadn't worn a different pair of pants in weeks. Then again, psychiatrists get a whole hell of money. Half as much as the younger man made that's for sure. The parking lot was empty. The only cars in site being Hannibal's Bentley, and a few cars most likely from staff that had arrived early and late. The hospital was also connected to a rehab center, where most patients sat with their loved ones in a large lounge area. In another glance, that area wasn't even appearing like a hospital. It was covered in nice decor and dark wood tables, and many hanging plants alined by the windows. With another click, Hannibal had also taken off his seatbelt upon Will doing it moments before. He checked his watch. "Ah. Just on time." Dr Lecter chimed, giving Will that same small, lip smile. Will could only manage to awkwardly imitate the smile back. Though it looked much more, 'Oh shit don't say something stupid' face you'd ever see.  Hannibal didn't mind though. He thought it was a kind of charm Will had.  That being said, both Will and Hannibal got out of his car. Only a bit ahead of him were the appealingly new revolving glass doors that entered inside. Will adjusted the collar of his shirt upon walking in, Hannibal close behind him. The sent of his strong cologne still lingering. That smell didn't stay for long as soon as the cold air hit Will's face. The air was crisp, though mixed with the overwhelming smell of antibacterial, and medicine hitting his nostrils. He held his breath for a moment as he glanced at Hannibal who had met him at his right side. Hannibal had his hands clasped together from behind his back, his stature nearly taking Will backwards and out the revolving doors. He didn't understand how Hannibal could always look so peaceful. Without a doubt. Will took a sharp step forward, trying to propel himself to the front desk's counter. Hannibal would simply walk close behind. A young woman sat at the counter, going through a small file. She flipped a few pages before lightly closing the folder with a small sigh. Supposing that she didn't see the two, Will would clear his throat. The girl glanced upwards, though without a flinch. She didn't seem to be bothered. She looked at the two men for a moment before giving them a warm, welcoming smile. Her glasses showing the reflection faintly of them. Will swore he must of saw something other than his therapist behind him. He simply tried to brush it off as him being tired. He had bad insomnia that night before anyway, yeah. That must of explained it. He couldn't help but smile to himself in the oath to his thoughts. He glanced to his right once more, just to be sure Hannibal hadn't suddenly transformed before Will's tired eyes.
"Hello! Your here early. Have you made a reservation?" The young desk woman spoke. Will jerked his head back around, catching his boundaries for a second time. "Uh- Yeah. I'm here to visit. Under the name Hobbs?" Will said, adjusting his shirt again in pure anxiety. The woman smiled at Will reassuringly. "Alright,, and your with this gentleman here?" She added, typing the name into her computer beside her. Despite Hannibal's maturity, he cracked a smile. "I sure am." He said with a hourse chuckle. "You know, he's much more interesting than he looks." Hannibal added, slightly toying with Will as he gave the desk woman a head nod. Will would lightly ram his shoulder into Lecter in response. "Hell- no need to tell my life story." He grumbled, though a bit amused. The desk woman would shake her head with a laugh. "Hah. Yes,, your appointment up in room 234 is ready. I was notified Abigail has just awoken from her nap, so try to go in quietly." She smiled. Going under her desk, and into a file drawer she pulled out Will's 'Visitor' pass. Grabbing Hannibal's soon after. She gently placed them on the counter for the two. ",,That's a very unique name, sir." She adjusted the rim of her glasses, looking up at the taller man out of the two. Hannibal looked down at her as he took his pass, clipping it onto his jacket. "It's Greek." Hannibal said sternly, yet happy to make conversation with the young lady. Will also grabbed his pass, fidgeting around to find the best spot to clip the badge on. He soon settled on the opening of his flannel pocket. "You two take care, okay? Hope your visit goes well." The desk woman would speak one more time, before going back to looking inside her folder from moments earlier. Will adjusted the pass photo, taking a step with his pivoted foot. "Cmon." Will huffed, giving The desk lady a small wave before walking off. He made sure to not walk ahead of Hannibal, keeping up a similar pace from the other. Their steps on the linoleum echoing back and forth from each other. Slowly, their echoed steps began to merge together, into one. Will shoved his hands into his hunting jacket, taking another large breath of the Chemically air, and blew it out of his nostrils once more. The smell had only, but just barely adjusted to Will at that point. It's a mix of a weirdly pleasing smell, like old books or cigarette smoke. But when inhaled just enough, almost disgusting. The walk to Abigail's holding room was quiet to say the least. The only sound being Will land Hannibal's footsteps, along with the occasional nurse or doctor passing them, with the beeps of  heart rate monitors beyond the doors of the less fortunate. You couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of dread, especially in a hospital. Ironic, saying hospitals are to save your life, not to make you fear it. Will couldn't help how he felt about that though. Will stopped in front of a door similar to all the others that alined it. The only difference being the name plate beside it, simply showing the room number. Since Hannibal and Will's last visit, Abigail was brought to a different room due to how fast she was recovering. Will thanked god for that. "She said,, room 234, right?" Will paused, his hand over the doorknob in hesitance, but also him stalling. "Yes, this is the room." Hannibal responded calmly, running a hand through his nicely kept hair. Will would huff in response, knowing that waiting any longer would just make him more nervous. He shut his eyes,, slowly turning the knob. He heard it click. He opened his eyes again as he bit his bottom lip. Here goes nothing. Will cracked the door open just enough to see inside. The lights were on inside Abigail's room, the small tv on a mount on the far wall was turned onto a low volume. Will opened the door a bit more, it creaked only slightly. He quietly cleared his throat. "Abigail,,? Are you awake?" Will called out, making sure to not raise his voice to much. Will took a full step inside the room, Hannibal soon following. Hannibal closed the door gently behind him, taking off his trench coat, and rested it on the built in rack on the back of the door. Hannibal glanced at Will, signaling for him to take his coat off. Will hesitated, rolling the coat off of his shoulders. Hannibal would politely help Will take it off. Will didn't bother to care about that though, as he quickly made his way over to the side of Abigail's hospital bed. Abigail had a large gauze pad tightly wrapped to the size of her neck. She was pale, not to different from what she looked like the day she almost perished. Though, she looked a bit healthier. Abigail had her dark brown hair tied back in a neat braid. Hannibal would stroll to the edge of her bed, glancing around the room as Will spoke. "Good morning,, Sorry if we came at a bad time. We wanted to check on you." Abigail let out a weak chuckle. "Don't worry. It's not like I can do much in here." She replied, holding up her wrist to Will, the one that had the IV inserting into her vein. "How have you been feeling?" Hannibal butted in, raising an eyebrow as he spoke. He slightly leaned downwards as he said so. "The best I could be in a place like this." Abigail shrugged, looking down at the paper bracelet that was on her opposite wrist that had the IV inserted. She fidgeted with it as she talked. Will slightly frowned at that. He couldn't imagine what Abigail was going through, nor did he want to. Abigail had a nice soul at heart, and that's what Will wanted to believe. He couldn't convince himself of anything else other than that. The small hospital room that they all stood in, had a sense of overwhelming dread inside of it. Well, to Will it did at least. His anxiety had sky rocketed as soon as both him and Hannibal arrived. He didn't want to feel anxious though. He truly wanted to feel happy that Abigail was alive, but he couldn't, no matter what he tried. He still had sympathy of course, but it got override by those same feelings of dread he felt in that very room. Will crossed his arms, bringing his thumb up to his mouth. He would chew at the skin on the pad of his thumb out of force of habit. Abigail would simply look at him like he was fucking insane. That made his pull his thumb away with a huff. "Sorry. Force of habit." He awkwardly broke the silence again. Hannibal kept to himself those few minutes, holding his hand across one of the small tables in the room. What laid on the table was a framed photograph. The photo didn't appear to be that old, only aged by the sunlight out the window, clear by the faded color. The photo appeared to be Abigail, with her mother and father behind her. Though the photo was most likely taken during a time where they had no care in the world, if you looked at that photo now, and looked at Abigail's father, you could see fully the face of a pure psychopath, with two angels beside it. Hannibal picked the photo off of the table, slightly frowning at it. A frown full of facade, that was simply hidden by the mask of an angel with flightless wings.