Palatial Intimacy

IX - The Dog

April 10, 2030

"Will?" Hannibal called after him as he stumbled out of the memory room, staggering past him into the hallway. "Was that too much for you? I didn't mean to show you anything you weren't ready for."

"You're..." A million possible words ran through Will's head. You're fucked up. You're horrible. You're a monster. You're disgusting. What is wrong with you? What happened to you to make you like this?  He held it all back, not wanting to ruin the terse relationship that the two had.

He felt a mixture of horror and extreme fascination, the complete absence of guilt leaving him reeling. This was Hannibal's mind, sure, but Will had found some way to break the rules. He had somehow learned to dive deeper, to view memories and emotions that Hannibal didn't necessarily want him to see. If Hannibal did have any feelings of guilt, there was no way that he would be able to hide them, not with Will's new-found power of perception.

The most realistic option was that they simply weren't there. That part of Hannibal's brain was completely absent. He was as unacquainted with guilt as a deaf man with sound, a blind man with sight.

The scarier option was that those emotions were there, and Hannibal was capable of feeling them, but he'd learned long ago to erase them. He had become such an expert at avoiding guilt that it didn't even run through his head anymore.

No matter which one was true, Will knew that he had to get out of here.

"I want out," he said, trying to keep his voice as firm as possible. He didn't want to show any weakness in front of Hannibal, especially when he was in his territory.

"Are you feeling alright?"

"I'm fine. But I want out."

"...Alright." Hannibal raised his hands in front of him in surrender. "You're the one who told me how to get out. Don't we have to visualize the way out?"

"Yes, but you're the one who's better at visualizing than I am. Can you remember what the button looked like?"

Hannibal considered this for a moment. His left thumb ran idly in small circles as he thought. "Check your pockets," he finally said.

Will did. In his left pocket, he felt a lump; he pulled out a near exact replica of the buttons they had used to get themselves in here. It was wireless this time, a small grey rod with a red button on the top. Will pushed it, and in mere seconds he began to disappear. Both of the men were silent as his body slowly fizzled out, leaving Hannibal in the hallway alone.

Will surfaced before Hannibal did, and there was a brief moment when Will considered fleeing. Once again, though, he ignored his instincts, since doing so could jeopardize their deal. He would be damned if he put his family in danger just to get away from this one moment.

He decided to help Hannibal out, carefully taking off his helmet and removing his earplugs. His thumb brushed against Hannibal's hair, right above the ear, and his skin was warm. It was an almost shocking reminder that Hannibal was indeed human, someone he could touch.

As Hannibal woke, Will double checked the knife in his pocket. It was right where he left it, of course, but it felt good to remind himself that it was there for him to use.

Hannibal's almond-shaped eyes fluttered open, and they immediately shot to Will with an almost concerned glance. "That wasn't meant to upset you," he said. "You wished to know what it was like."

Will merely shook his head. "I think I need to get home now," he said. "I don't want anyone to wonder where I am."

"Of course," Hannibal replied, although Will sensed a hint of sullenness in his voice. "Who do you live with?"