Hannibal fanfiction!

Defence.

If it had not been for your better knowledge, you would have thought the scene was a painting.

Frozen for a second.
Tension cold in the air.
Sharper than the icicle seemingly lodged in your windpipe.
You swallow and feel it's sting.

Doctor Hannibal Lecter stood like a statue in his own kitchen. Expressionless. Ironed out and straighten up like one of his buttoned shirts.

The man in blue, pushed his hand against the bench, supporting the weight of his body partially with his arm so he could use his walking cane to point.
One silent gesture towards the staircase was enough before he set it back down to the ground.

One of the two large men immediately turned and began to walk up the stairs.

You unintentionally let out a sigh of relief, then quickly slap both hand over your mouth, but no one seemed to have heard you.

Although the other guard remained in the kitchen with Hannibal, there was certainly more of a chance he could win against one rather than two.

This made you realise something.
The second guard remained to protect the man in blue.

Your eyes locked with his walking cane.

******

Will sat cross legged on the white tiles of the bathroom floor.
Waiting.
Eyes closed.
Listening.

He had heard a loud bang echo up the stairs earlier, and now could hear the thumping footsteps of someone much heavier than Hannibal or Destrie approaching.

The bathroom was two doors away from the stairs and there was some careless searching to be heard muffled through the walls.

The noises becoming stronger as now as someone strong scavenged Hannibal's home.

Will Graham had the uncomfortable feeling as if he had a plastic bag over his head.
He was trapped.
Trying to swallow the thoughts of claustrophobia, suddenly he was a sea turtle. The metaphorical bag around his head, tightening with each breath.

Will turned, searching the room for a weapon of some kind.
Something he could use to defend himself.
There was nothing.
Nothing heavy, nothing sharp.
There was a soap dish which looked rather solid, sitting next to the sink but not something that could be a successful weapon.
If only he had been shut in the kitchen, then he could have a knife.

His thoughts were interrupted by the locked door nob twisting.
Will felt his heart sink.

" 's Locked." Grunted a mans voice to himself.

There was a pause and then a huge thump shook the door.
He was entering by force.

Will stood in front of the mirror.
"Think Will, Think!" He chanted to himself, his fingers tapping on the sides of his forehead.

The sounds of the door being broken down, echoing in his head, becoming weaker with each blow.

Again he looked at the soap dish next to the sink.

And with a final crash, the door caved in.