▫Point of Possible Return▫ [Hannibal Lecter FF] ▫AU▫

Ch. 12

"We're all fighting, growing old,
In hopes of a few minutes more.
To get on St. Peter's list,
But you need to lower your standards,
'Cause its never getting better than this."
-Rat-A-Tat by Fall Out Boy feat. Courtney Love

I laid on the couch, textbook open in my lap, highlighter hanging loosely in my hand. My eyes were closed, my feet covered with a blanket and my head lying on a pillow from my bed room. It's been four months -almost five- since I started school, mid-November's cool wind reminding me that it was just a few days before my birthday. It was also a few days before Thanksgiving as well. My mother called me yesterday and asked if I was coming in for the holidays; I couldn't decline, seeing as all my homework was just to take several notes since the teachers didn't want to hear the students whine, yet I couldn't accept either, seeing as I kind of wanted to stay away from the jokes and other stuff.

In three months, everyone I know has said that I've changed so far; Zack has said that I've grown louder; Delilah said that I've grown to be more extroverted; Dad has even said that I've grown more friendlier. I saw some change, but never noticed a drastic one.

One of the reasons I've probably changed is because of clinicals; talking with the patients is actually kind of fun. They've told some interesting stories (some more interesting than others) and I guess its gotten me to ask more questions.

On a different note, I felt bad when Hannibal started to pay me. I asked him about it, and he waved it off, saying that it wasn't anything. I didn't say anything after that. And much like the laptop, I didn't tell anyone about it. I didn't want them to start getting ideas in their heads.

Zack and Uncle Rob, though, were going on and on about us. One day I was facetiming Zack -audio instead of the normal video feed- in the hallway outside my apartment, and my friend started to tell the usual "your honeymoon in Cancoon" joke. The doctor came into the hall soon after; he didn't ask about the situation right then, but asked after Zack had hung up. Honestly, I didn't want to tell him the whole ordeal; I said that he made a joke about me a couple weeks before about marrying someone and having a honeymoon at the place. He smirked, and went on. The light in his eyes said that he didn't care what Zack thought. I was thankful for that much.

The textbook fell to the ground, hitting the hard wood floor. It didn't phase me. I drifted into a deeper sleep.

I was walking in the dark, stepping on leaves and twigs. There was no moon to guide me, no light source of any kind in fact. I dodged trees from my sense of touch and mainly from luck. I called out for a hello, it echoing in the silence. A light came in the distance, flickering back and forth in the soft wind. I followed it in hopes I could get away from the darkness.

The light was held by him, the one I've been starting to dream about. Hannibal. I feel myself smile as I come to a stop. The man in front of me soon disappears, the light fading into the darkness.

My smile vanishes, the ground under my feet starts to shake. The ground rips apart, paying me no attention as I fall down into the dark despair.

I jolt up, the highlighter falling out of my hand; I bring my legs to my body and wrap my arms around them, holding the tears back that were threatening to flow. Nightmares have been a trait I had for years; I've always had them every so often. However, I've been having them more frequently. This will mark the fifth in just two months. Most were either about Zack or Hannibal.

I hadn't noticed knocking at the door until Hannibal announced that he was coming in. He walked into the living room, and I looked up at him with watery eyes. He sat down next to me, pulling me to his side, then wrapped his arms around my shoulders. I wrapped my own arms around his waist. I again felt bad that he kept coming here just to calm me down; it was good that he cared, though. His arms around my shoulders felt natural, his skin giving my own goosebumps, his voice sending chills up my spine no matter how soft he spoke.