FOUND: A Hannigram Devil AU REWRITTEN

Chapter Twenty-Four

The next few days were as unpredictable as the tide. They ebbed and flowed, moving between rough, crashing waves and gentle ripples. Will slept through most of the days, waiting for Hannibal to get home from work -- he had to keep up appearances. The rest of the world believed Will Graham was dead, and Hannibal had to solidify that belief. His influence around the FBI was important for their plan. Thanks to him, Jack was set on organizing Will's funeral.

That didn't mean that his rest was peaceful, though. The trauma from his transformation had overridden Hannibal's gift of serene rest, and now he was plagued with dreams of nature ravaging his body. Starlings ate away at his skin, freezing wind solidified his fingers until they sloughed off his hand, the grass morphed into sharp blades that cut him open until he bled out in the dirt. 

Each night was a new sort of torture, and each night was a different outcome. Some nights were much more peaceful than others; most of the time, he would only be awake for a few moments before falling back asleep in Hannibal's grasp. The rest of the time, however, was a torturous rush of a seemingly random emotion that his brain had fetched in an attempt to cope. 

One night, he woke in a fit of uncontrollable laughter, unable to stop despite tears pouring down his face, his chest burning, and Hannibal had no choice but to hypnotize him back into slumber. Another night, he entered a fit of uncontrollable rage, screaming and hitting anything he could find - including Hannibal. Another, he spent about five minutes completely unaware who he was, who Hannibal was, or what either of them were doing there. 

No matter the emotion, he was always horribly embarrassed when he came to his senses. They were as quick to fade as they were to spark, subsiding within a few moments, but the terror of the psychological swells remained. He always apologized profusely, and Hannibal always forgave him.

"This is natural," Hannibal reassured him every night. "This happens to me every time I inhabit a new body. It should be over within a few weeks." 

On this night, Will was nestled against his chest, biting his lip. "But what is it? What's happening?"

"Your body doesn't understand. Think of the immune system. When foreign antigens are brought in, the body launches its defenses. Like how your body may respond negatively to a vaccine for the first few days." He kissed the top of Will's head. "We have to give you time to adapt." 

"But I thought my soul was still the same." 

"It is. But now that you have transformed, you have infinitesimally more knowledge than you did before. More than humans can comprehend. Your brain is trying to keep itself safe. It runs through every emotion it can to find one that copes the best. It forgets the source of the issue. It will soon realize that none of these things work, and then it will return to normal." 

"Have you ever had it not return to normal?"

"No. You have more control over your mind than you realize." He extracted himself from Will's grip. "I'll get you some water." 

 The following day, Will was strong enough to get out of bed and explore the house. He'd regained a bit of strength with each morning, and now he was able to get himself in the shower and heat up the food Hannibal had left him. He could almost pretend things were normal. 

When the sun set and it grew closer to the typical time Hannibal came home, Will stepped out onto the back porch. The day was still light with the remnants of the sun, dozens of beautiful colors spread across the sky. It was beautiful, but he couldn't see the world the same way ever since he'd gotten a glimpse of Heaven. 

Hannibal's car pulled into the driveway soon after he sat down on the stairs. When the lights switched off, throwing Will into the darkness again, Will stood and approached the car.