Palatial Intimacy

XIII - The Fight

April 21, 2030

The night after the fight with Hannibal and the subsequent one with Molly, Will had the first lucid dream.

He'd heard of this happening before after frequent usage of the LOOM, but he'd never thought much of it. Lucid dreams didn't have to be a bad side effect; he'd actually had them before, and they weren't that bad. Every negative sensation that came with them could be explained away, and once you realized it was all a dream it got easier and easier.

But now, for the past few nights, he'd been having very extreme and disorienting dreams. All of them had Hannibal in them, and all of them made him wake up with a pounding headache. Besides that, they didn't have much in common.

There was one that involved him and Hannibal strolling down the hallway of the palace, where Hannibal had led him to a door like always. Instead of showing him a memory, though, the other side of the door was just an endless black pit — one that Hannibal shoved him right into. He plummeted rapidly into the abyss, unable to grasp anything except for the faint sounds of meat sizzling and bones cracking.

He had another the next night about sitting in a poorly-lit room, choking on something that kept growing larger by the second. It absorbed all the liquid in his throat, then the muscles, then the cartilage around his Adam's apple, until it was completely eating him alive. Throughout it all, he was paralyzed to do anything about it, and Hannibal towered over him, watching the entire thing.

After that dream, Will had jolted awake with a loud gasp for air. He was in his bed, and someone to his left was stirring after the disruption. The figure turned to face him, and he saw Hannibal lying there inches from him. Will's only reaction to this was to relax. It felt just right, having him there. For a moment, he found himself smiling softly, content, moving closer to feel the other man's skin...

"What'd you dream about?" It wasn't Hannibal's voice, it was Molly's, and when Will blinked his face morphed back into that of his wife's. He was staring into the same eyes he'd seen on his wedding day, and every day since then. Those should have been the eyes to comfort him. They should have made him feel content and loved. He didn't feel any of that now.

"I...it was a choking dream. I bet I had my face buried in something."

"That's what she said," Molly replied groggily, patting him on the head. Will laughed, but it felt like he was faking it.

Jack had given him a few days off, but now Will was finally allowed to reenter the headquarters. He was ready to return to his work, to focus on another case. Everyone here acted like Chilton was the culprit. The case was closed. Only he knew the truth.

Jack was treating him with kid gloves, though, and he never brought up anything pertaining to the Ripper case. He must have thought that the mere mention of it would turn Will into a raving lunatic, foaming at the mouth to go find Hannibal immediately. Obviously, that wasn't the case, and it never had been — but that was the cost of pretending to be overly obsessed. It saved you from divorcing your wife, but it also caused your boss to figuratively baby-proof the entire FBI. No one brought up the case at all. Pictures were gone, files were gone. It was all about a new case, one that Will could easily solve and move along with his week.

It was getting difficult to bear.

He didn't want to admit it, but he couldn't stop thinking about Hannibal. Every time he closed his eyes, for a split second the palace would flash in his subconscious. He saw himself there, sitting alongside Hannibal with his head tilted back and his eyes closed, utterly at peace. He'd grasp at the feeling once it vanished, wanting to bring it back, but nothing worked.

"Can you talk to me? You're not being yourself." Molly was putting away the laundry that evening. Her back was turned, and there was something about her tone that aggravated Will. It was like she was coaching a child.