Hello Fannibals! A new episode is coming out tonight, so my mind is overwhelmed with plots and stuff :D soooo i just wrote this thing, hope to continue it very soon and hope you like it!
It starts where "Sweet and feverish" left off, but it can also stand on its own.
As usual, review and comments are much appreciated :D

Disclaimer: I don't own anything and blablabla.

Enjoy :D

"I am not sure why I'm here, I just… I needed someone to talk to, I guess" said Will with a rusty, bitter laugh.

"This is not a problem, for I have no prior appointments" He smiled, reassuring him. Took a few steps, and sat down in his own armchair, opposite to Will's. "Is there something particular you want to talk about?"

"It's, I…" he started, then found himself at loss of words, passed his hands nervously on his face and through his messy hair. "I feel helpless. Like I'm confronting an enemy I already know I can't win"

"Who is this enemy, Will?"

"My own mind" he replied with a sad look.

"And you think you are not able to win against it?"

"I am sure of that"

"Maybe this is exactly the problem, Will: you are helpless as long as you believe you are. There is no enemy you can't win, and you are strong. You need to convince yourself of that"

"Maybe not strong enough" Will felt his lower lip quiver, his eyes stinging. He stood up abruptly and started pacing, moving away from his psychiatrist and closer to the window.

He watched him attentively, and kept silent, allowing him the space he needed. Will stood at the window, glancing at the outside but not really seeing, his thoughts a big mess. He had come over in a rush, feeling he needed to talk to somebody he could trust, but now that he was here he almost preferred to be alone.

Minutes passed, and in the silence of the studio he almost forgot he wasn't actually alone. He finally turned around, almost expecting to find Hannibal asleep for he hadn't made a sound for all the time he had been at the window. Instead, he was still watching him, and Will had the impression his eyes had never left him.

"I think I should go now, I've come here to talk and all I've been doing is wasting your time" He started to go for the coat, but Hannibal stood up and interposed himself between Will and the sofa where his coat was.

"There is no battle you can't win, Will. You have to fight it, otherwise it will overcome you"

Will met his eyes, his firm stare, and felt that Hannibal believed in his strength.

"I am afraid" he finally said, his voice cracking, a big lump in his throat. His eyes moved to the side, avoiding to meet his psychiatrist's. A second later, he found himself slammed against the ladder, a hand gripping his throat, making it hard for him to breathe.

"What the-" he said, eyes wide, surprised.

"Fight me, Will" he said, his face giving nothing away.

"Hannibal, stop it" His throat started to hurt, every breath more difficult, speaking almost impossible. His hands went to his arm and hand, trying to ease the grip, with no success. He couldn't believe Hannibal was actually trying to hurt him, but the lifeless look in his eyes told him better. His heart started pounding hard, pulse accelerating, blood rushing, the feeling of danger sinking in his skin right where his hand was holding him, hard as stone against his trachea. He started struggling, gripping his arm and sleeve, trying to break free. Hannibal was keeping him at arm length, keeping his face too far to be reached.

"I am not stronger than your mind. As you can break free from me, you can also win against it"

"I can't breathe!"

"I am aware of that" he said simply.

The lack of oxygen was starting to make his head spin, his eyes watering, his pulse slamming hard against the unmoving palm.

"Fight me, Will"

"I can't!"

"Then you will perish"

His vision was blurry, both from the tears and the lack of air. All he could hear was the deaf bumping of his own heart, the sound of his breathing amplified in his ringing ears. His hands were trying to loosen the grip, which didn't seem to weaken despite his attempts. He was about to pass out, he recognized the symptoms, all in his view was darkening, even Hannibal's face.

Was it going to end like this? Getting killed by his psychiatrist, his friend, the person he thought he could rely on: was this the end of Will Graham?

Screaming as far as Hannibal's hand permitted, he summoned all his last strength and kicked hard in front of him, making Hannibal stumble and release his deadly grip on his throat. Will collapsed on the ladder, coughing, gripping a rung, trying to steady himself, slowly regaining his sight and hearing. As he was fighting to breathe despite the burning in his lungs, Hannibal had already regained his balance and came to his side, placing a hand on his back while the other held his arm, supporting him.

"Don't touch me!" Will managed to say, his voice creaky.

"Breathe Will, breathe"

He touched his neck with a trembling hand, still shocked, breathing hard, feeling a gentle hand rubbing his back, possibly the same hand that was choking him a moment ago.

"Have you gone crazy or what?" he shouted, his tone shaky but accusing.

"My apologies. I needed you to understand your strength, and this was the best way"

"By choking me?" Will was incredulous.

"By forcing you to fight"

"You almost killed me!"

"You almost gave up" His eyes were firm, confident, knowing that it was the truth. Will couldn't reply, he felt like a child caught with his hands in the cookie jar. He avoided his piercing gaze, lowering his head, a hand still massaging his sore neck. Hannibal placed a hand right next to his, on the spot where he had gripped him, making him wince at the touch, eyes widening in fear.

"I'm sorry" he said softly, caressing his neck. Will relaxed a bit, understanding he wouldn't attack him again, but still eyeing him a bit wary. Swallowing was painful, even more than breathing, it made him frown every time.

"I care deeply about you, Will. I don't want you to give up" His hand was cupping his cheek now, caressing his face.

Will felt himself shatter against that hand, his gaze warming him inside. How could he feel so safe, standing close to the same man who had almost choked him? He didn't have a clue, but at the moment he didn't even care. Nodding once, he smiled faintly, thankful for those words. He inhaled slowly, deeply, and let out a trembling sigh. Even though he didn't like it, he could bear getting touched, but never looked for anybody's touch on his own will. But only this time, he did.

Leaning a bit forward, he rested his forehead on Hannibal's chest, on his tailored suit. He didn't really know why he acted this way, why this time he felt like needing to lean on someone, he just did. Eyes closed, he slowly breathed in and out, in and out, immersed in his scent.

Staying like this, he started feeling a bit awkward. Having acted on an impulse, he hadn't thought about Hannibal at all, at how he might feel in this situation, even if he knew he was too composed and kind to just push him away. Just a second before moving away, he felt arms encircling him, embracing him. Except for Alana, it had been long since anyone hugged him, and God, he needed it so bad.

He raised his hands but stopped halfway, unsure how to react to this embrace, if to hug back or to just enjoy the feeling. Then he felt Hannibal tightening his hug, pulling him closer, resting a cheek on his messy brown hair, caressing his back. His heart was bursting against his chest, and he knew the other could feel it too. He slowly placed his hands on his wide back, gripping his jacket lightly, feeling as safe as one could be.