It was nearly six o’clock in the morning and Hannibal was in the kitchen making breakfast when he heard movement coming from upstairs. He quickly walked into the foyer as he watched Will stagger down the stairs, still wearing the clothes from last night. Will was leaning heavily on the bannister and Hannibal grabbed his arm to steady him as he stumbled down the last few steps.
“How are you feeling, Will?” Hannibal asked.
Will looked bleary-eyed up at Hannibal. “Hannibal?” he asked. “Where am I?”
“Do you not know anything that happened last night?” Hannibal asked, concerned.
Will rubbed his eyes. “No, I don’t. The last thing I remember was going to bed last night…in my house,” he said.
Hannibal led Will into the kitchen and he began to explain what Will had missed. “You had a nightmare, Will. Alana called me and you had locked yourself in the bathroom by the time I had gotten there. You were sitting on the roof when I found you. Alana and I found blood on the floor and a razor on the counter when we looked in the bathroom,” Hannibal told him. “I feared the worst, but you were sitting contently on the roof, watching the sky.”
Hannibal helped Will sit on one of the stools in front of the counter and he began finishing breakfast.
Will glanced at his arm. “Why do I have this bandage on my arm?” he asked curiously.
“You cut yourself with the razor and told me you did it to make sure you were not still asleep,” Hannibal answered. He set a plate of scrambled eggs and “sausage” down in front of Will.
“Is that why I’m in your house?” Will asked pointedly.
“Essentially, yes. I felt that I would be better prepared in case something like that happened again. I’m afraid that you scared Alana quite a bit,” Hannibal told him.
Will picked at his food half-heartedly for a few minutes. “What’s wrong with me, Hannibal?”
Hannibal leaned on the counter. “What do you mean?”
“Why do I think like this? Why have I been losing time?” Will asked dejectedly.
Hannibal watched Will for a moment, formulating an answer. “I’ve come to believe that it has something to do with the mechanics of your brain and how you see things. Your ability to reconstruct the thinking of murderers takes a toll on you and your body goes into a state similar to autopilot.”
Just then, there was a knock on Hannibal’s front door. “Eat your eggs, Will,” Hannibal told his friend as he walked out of the kitchen. He opened his front door to an angry Jack Crawford.
Without waiting to be invited in, Jack walked into the entryway and Hannibal closed the door behind him.
“Where’s Will Graham?” Jack demanded.
Hannibal smirked. “In my kitchen,” he said and led Jack to the kitchen.
Will was still sitting where Hannibal had left him, dutifully eating his eggs. He turned when he heard Hannibal and Jack walk into the room. He looked surprised to see Jack.
“Will, get dressed. We have another case,” Jack told him.
“Where?” Will asked.
“About seventeen miles away, in a remote part of the forest near the observatory. A group of kids were wandering around and reported hearing screaming coming from the old caretaker’s cabin,” Jack told him.
“Jack, Will is not well enough to be exposed to another murder at the moment,” Hannibal interjected.
Jack turned and looked at Hannibal. “No offense, Doctor, but I think that’s for Will to decide,” he told Hannibal coldly.
Will looked between Jack and Hannibal. Finally, he said, “I’ll go, Jack, but Hannibal’s coming, too.”
Jack sighed. “Fine. Just go get dressed.”
Will got off the stool and slowly walked past Jack and Hannibal, allowing himself a small smile after he was out of sight of the kitchen.
Hannibal grabbed Will’s plate and set in the sink.
“What’s wrong with him, Doctor?” Jack asked from where he stood behind Hannibal.
Hannibal turned to face him. “Will’s brain is not capable of handling the immense toll that is put upon it by using his ability. He’s losing time, his body is going into something similar to autopilot, if you will,” Hannibal answered. “He also has no appetite, which means he’s not eating regularly. I’ve noticed that he’s lost quite a lot of weight recently and now I know why.”
“Will he be alright?” Jack asked.
Hannibal nodded. “I believe so, but he could slip either way. I hope that having another person around will help Will, especially now that his nightmares have come back.”
Then Hannibal heard Will coming down the stairs, fully dressed, so he must have found the duffel bag that Alana had brought over that Hannibal had set on the chair by the window in the guest room. He was pulling his coat on when he walked back into the kitchen.
“Ready?” Jack asked and Will nodded. “Then let’s go!”
