"My stress," Will said as he paced back and forth in front of Lecter, "It just increases by bad and I can't do anything about it! I try to relax but it doesn't work because I can't escape from my head!"
"And how does that make you feel?" Lecter asked.
"Again with the typical questions." Will mocked bitterly.
"It's typical only because it's useful in understanding a troubled patient." Lecter indicated with a slight smile, "Now how does that make you feel?"
Will paused for a moment, considering the question before answering it, "It... it makes me feel...powerless..." he finally admitted and, anticipating the question that would follow, he proceeded to elaborate, "You've been giving me tricks to control my mind, to lower my stress, to allow me a 'release' from tension, but none of it seems to work. It's as though the more I try, the less effective everything I do is."
"Perhaps I'm just not giving you the proper tricks," Lecter supposed, "There are many things one can do to lower stress and everything I suggested up to now was just a small portion of it. It's natural for failure when making use of these relaxation techniques because, until we know what has truly afflicted your mind, we're just guessing."
"...How will we know then?" Will asked slowly, unsure whether he wanted to hear the answer for fear of it being negative, "How will we be able to label whatever's wrong with me and find ways to fix it?"
"Well, with your continued persuasions of medical tests, maybe something will turn up but I highly doubt that," Lecter admitted, putting the pen he was holding down on his desk, "And if we continue with these sessions, perhaps, at some point, I'll be able to diagnose you with a mental illness."
Frustrated, Will sat down on the long chair where most of Lecter's patients laid while sobbing about their traumas and problems. He buried his face in his hands while pressing his elbows on his knees and sighed profoundly. "There needs to be another way..." he mumbled almost to himself.
"Your stress levels are rising Will." Lecter warned, moving from behind his desk and towards his patient, "Let's try those breathing exercises again. Take a deep breath in... and...out."
Will mindlessly complied and found himself relaxing a bit. "At least we found one thing that seems to work." Will grumbled in faked optimism.
"This breathing exercise never really fails at relaxing anyone." Lecter stated, "It's even more effective when thinking of ones sanctuary."
"You mean a happy place?" Will repeated.
"Essentially, yes." Lecter confirmed, "It doesn't have to be real nor does it have to be realistic, just some place where you can feel at peace in your head."
"Well my head's a really messed up place, I don't think I'll be able to find my 'sanctuary' there." Will stated pessimistically.
"With that sour attitude, I don't doubt that for a minute." Lecter smirked then took a seat next to Will. "You need to be more 'open', Will. You need to accept the possibility of success rather than focus on that of failure. It's not because it didn't work once that it won't work again."
"That doesn't mean it isn't discouraging." Will retaliated.
"Without a doubt," Lecter agreed, "But you don't have to let the discouragement get to you. There's always hope."
"I know..." Will mumbled in agreement, though he didn't 'feel' it.
"Nonetheless," Lecter said, seemingly changing the subject, "Allow me offer a new relaxation method."
"Go for it." Will allowed in a resigned tone.
"How long has it been since you've last had sex?" Lecter questioned bluntly.
