LAST CHAPTER! Thanks so much for your encouragement. :)

Hannibal carefully cleaned up afterwards. He let himself first stare, drinking in Will's sated helplessness, the evidence of the response he'd fought but had been unable to withhold.

The beautiful mark, Hannibal's mouth having pulled the blood to the surface of pale skin, in great dark circles, bruising extensive over Will's lower ribs. Purple black, edged in red, then grey-yellow. Hannibal's heart lifted and expanded just looking at his mark, remembering the feeling, mouth open wide, tongue swirling on Will's shuddering skin as he sucked. As he pulled Will's flesh into his mouth, tasting as strongly as possible without using his teeth.

Incredulously, Hannibal laughed as his body responded to the memory.

Will brought out the insatiable glutton in him.

Recklessly, Hannibal let himself take a picture of naked, drugged Will. Let himself take another picture of his bruised ribs, and of his completely relaxed face and untroubled brow. Beautiful, in rare utter stillness, his Will was like a sculpture.

Then Hannibal reluctantly cleaned and dressed him. Then he tidied and aired out the room. Finally he restored his own impeccable appearance before going downstairs to wait for Dr. Bloom.

When she climbed the porch, Hannibal was there to greet her at the door.

"How is he?" Alana asked, handing over the small box of medical supplies he'd requested.

"He is in much needed slumber. He agreed to take a sedative."

"Oh!" Alana couldn't mask her surprise that anxious Will Graham would allow himself to be sedated.

"I convinced him that I would not allow any bad dreams," Hannibal said, bowing slightly in self-deprecating irony. "But his body definitely knows better than he what he needs."

"Yes, I imagine it does."

Together, they climbed the stairs and went into Will's room. Hannibal stood, forcing his face to remain still and untroubled as Alana sat on the bed next to Will.

She took his wrist in her hands, and took his pulse. Nodding in satisfaction, she smiled at Lecter. "That's as relaxed as I've ever seen him."

Lecter inclined his head in acknowledgment, uncaring if he looked self-satisfied.

Together they set up the IV. Lecter allowed Dr. Bloom to place the line in Will's arm, allowed her to hesitantly brush Will's curls off his forehead, as if she was feeling his temperature.

She also longed to steal moments from Will. The difference was, she didn't possess the strength of will to allow herself to take them.

They hung a saline bag, agreed to slowly drip in a mild anti-anxiety medication, then went downstairs to wait.

Time passed slowly. Alana fed the wretched dogs, Hannibal checked on Will. On his third trip upstairs, Will had twisted in the bed, as if he'd been struggling with an unseen attacker.

"He will wake soon," Hannibal called downstairs, gently.

Will flinched at Hannibal's voice.

Hannibal allowed himself one faint regretful sigh as Dr. Bloom walked in. She pulled a chair over beside the bed and sat waiting at Will's side.

Hannibal placed himself near the door, an old armchair that clearly was regularly inhabited by dogs.

Hannibal placed a t-shirt of Will's over the cushion before he sat.

They waited. Will murmured and tossed in his sleep a few times. Alana touched his arm and murmured reassurances.

Finally, Will blinked, then opened his eyes.

Like a shot, he sat up and shoved his entire body back, against the headboard.

Alana jumped at the unexpected movement. Will thrust his arms out in front of his body, trying to hold back what had already happened.

"Will," Alana said. "I'm here. We're here."

Hannibal schooled his face, certain to project only innocent care and calm. "Will, you are safe in your own bed. You have been asleep for almost six hours."

More or less.

Will looked around, mystified. Fear and confusion radiated from him in nearly palpable waves. His fingers dropped to his neck, the collar of his shirt, the sleeve, his pants.

Stunned to be clothed at all, much less in his same clothes from before the dreaming began.

Hannibal kept his face carefully neutral. Encouraging, reassuring, and placid.

"I," Will paused, picked his spectacles up from the bedside table, put them on. He felt at the IV needle taped to his arm. "I'm…here."

Hannibal let himself walk slowly a few paces forward. "Yes. I gave you a sedative, and it panicked you at first. You tried to leave the house, and I had to restrain you until the sedative took full effect. Do you remember?"

Warring impulses struggled for dominance inside Hannibal. He wanted the haze of the drug to recede, leaving only vague unease, leaving Will confused but accepting, once again, of Hannibal as an unremarkable colleague.

He also wanted Will to remember, in vivid detail.

Will flinched as Hannibal drew closer, then he smiled apologetically, unable to meet Hannibal's eyes.

It would be just as before, then.

"I remember something," Will's arms drew in tight to his body, as if shielding his ribs from fists. "I remember you attacking me."

His eyes, accusing. His tone, fearful, with an undercurrent of embarrassment.

Hannibal inclined his head slightly. "Apologies, Will, you were in no condition to leave. In good conscience I had to restrain you. You did struggle. It was unpleasant, but sadly unavoidable."

Strong eye contact, Hannibal put regret in to every line of his body as he watched Will.

Will's eyes, ricocheted around the room. His hand pressed, rubbing perhaps unconsciously at his bruised side.

"Do you feel better?" Alana asked. "Do you feel up to trying some food?"

Will nodded tightly. "I'm….sore. I feel like I…" His voice trailed off. His eyes wavered between his bent knees and the floor.

"No doubt you feel as if you have gone a few rounds with a superior fighter," Hannibal supplied smoothly. "It is to be expected given the circumstances."

Will nodded.

"Dr. Bloom, we might try the broth again?" Hannibal prodded, subtly dismissing her to warm Will's bowl.

"Certainly. I'll be right back, Will."

Will nodded, careful not to look up.

Dr. Bloom left. Hannibal stepped forward and placed himself in her chair at Will's side.

Will flinched almost imperceptibly, as if his entire body tried to pull away slightly at Hannibal's proximity.

Hannibal stifled a smile.

"You slept quietly. For the most part. Once or twice I helped you through dark things."

Will nodded. "I remember some…dreams." His voice, drawn tight like a wire.

Hannibal folded his hands over his lap. "Do you recall any specifics?"

Will shook his head, hand unconsciously chaffing at his wrist, perhaps remembering the sensation of being bound. "No…it's like…like it's a nightmare, and I can see only the edges of it as it diminishes. It was so vivid, I remember that…but it's fading now."

"Giving way to this reality," Hannibal commented.

"Yes." Will shoved his hands into his hair, then rubbed the gooseflesh prickling his arms. "I'm s-sore, my muscles, it's like I've been…st-st-struggling."

"You have been at a nearly violent level of tension for days, and just now your body has had its first relief. Of course you are fatigued."

"It'll be the next fitness craze. Body by neurosis," Will joked, weakly.

Hannibal allowed himself to laugh, delighting in Will's grim sense of humor even in the face of anguished emotions.

"I…." This time Will's voice trailed off from concentration, not stuttering. "I think I dreamt of Hobbs. The stag."

Hannibal felt a violent surge of anger. Jealousy, primal and uncontrolled leapt through his bones.

"The stag isn't necessarily Hobbs. We've spoken of this possibility before," he said, proud of his even tone.

Alana could be heard on the stair.

Hannibal consoled himself with the thought that Will's desire to say that he'd dreamt of Hobbs showed the extreme depths to which he was dependent on Lecter the doctor, the friend. It was a way of building a fort in his mind.

Time enough to claim the rest of him later.

Alana entered, carrying the tray with the bowl of soup.

"I'll take that," Hannibal said, smoothly taking the tray and placing it on the bed before Will.

"I may not be able to eat," Will cautioned. "I feel jumpy…uneasy."

"We'll just try, shall we?" Hannibal asked, handing the spoon to Will.

Will sat up and leaned forward. He moaned slightly and rubbed his ribs where Hannibal had left his marks.

"What is it?" Alana asked.

"My ribs," Will said.

"Yes, you might have some contusions. When you panicked and tried to leave, you were too weak. You fell onto the stair. I'm sorry I allowed it to happen."

"I think you saved me from worse, it sounds like," Will replied, turning Hannibal's apology into his own.

Dear Will.

Moving gingerly, Will sat up, each careful movement telegraphing aches that called to a savage joy gathering in Hannibal's heart.

Will took a spoonful of broth into his mouth. It was only a moment before he was coughing and gagging as before.

"Sorry. Sorry," Will spluttered.

Hannibal allowed himself to reach out. To lightly touch his fingers to Will's hand. Will jerked and started like a colt

"I think I can help you, friend, if you will but allow me." Hannibal added again in his mind.

"What?" Will shuddered, moving slightly away, but leaving his wrist in Hannibal's loose grasp.

"You will need to look into my eyes. Feel what I feel as I eat," Hannibal said. Feel what I feel when I feed you, he thought.

Fear made Will's voice crack. "Fine." Knowing if he remained unable to eat much longer, the only recourse would be institutionalization.

Hannibal stood and stepped forward. Making a blade with his hand, he gestured to the bedside beside Will. Asking permission to sit there.

A gorgeous dance, role reversal of their recent interlude.

Will nodded tightly and scooted back, making room and leaning himself against the headboard.

Hannibal lifted and removed the tray. Holding the bowl and spoon, he sat beside Will. He dipped the spoon into the broth, held it before his own mouth and waited for Will's eyes to meet his.

Will glanced up, then immediately down again. Then he took a deep breath and made his eyes lift again.

Hannibal put the cleanest emotions he could into his eyes. The most surprising ones. Care. Warmth. The esteem of a respected colleague.

Will blinked in sudden surprise, then let out a pent up breath as relief flooded him.

He'd been afraid to see the stag, Hannibal realized, and just as quickly let the realization flow out of him, so Will would not pick up even the faintest reflection of his fear in Hannibal's face.

Hannibal sniffed the aroma of the broth, let the clear pleasure he felt in this meal shine through his eyes. Hannibal put the spoon in his mouth, took the broth and showed only savory delight in his eyes.

Will sighed in longing.

Hannibal dipped the spoon into the broth again. Brought it to his mouth again. This time, he put satisfaction in his gaze. Satiety.

Will's tongue moistened his lips slightly. His huger suddenly upon him and profound.

Hannibal dipped the spoon down again. This time, he brought it to Will's mouth.

Unreservedly, Will took the soup. Tasted it. Swallowed. Opened his mouth for more.

Hannibal allowed satisfaction to creep back into his gaze. Gave another spoon to Will, let his eyes drop for a moment to see Will's mouth close on the spoon.

Lifted back to Will's eyes, landing with the force of his pride like a rough embrace. Will shuddered and closed his eyes for a split second. Then he met Lecter's gaze again, too hungry, and too desperate for nourishment to second-guess the intensity of the older man's emotion.

Hannibal smiled, and held the spoon out to Will.

"Nothing is insurmountable," he said, as much to himself as to Will. "Nothing."

All good things in good time. And someday, all good things would be all the time.

That much he knew.

Will closed his eyes and savored Hannibal's provision.

A precursor of things to come.