Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"C'mon, Will, open your mouth" a female voice spoke gently, rousing Will from a deep sleep.    

He groaned in response, not wanting to wake up.  While the name currently escaped him, the voice was familiar to him, so Will allowed his lips to part.  He tried to open his eyes, but his eyelids resisted, heavy with exhaustion. 

"Under your tongue," the voice instructed, sliding something into his mouth.  Oh, it was a thermometer.  Jesus, was he in the hospital again?  He tried to think, but everything was so fuzzy.  He was so tired… and his head was pounding.  Was it too soon to take more aspirin? 

"Oh… your fever's getting worse; I'll have to get Hannibal," the voice spoke after removing the thermometer from his mouth.  

Hannibal?  How did he get to Minnesota so fast?  Minnesota… Will's eyes flew open.  He suddenly remembered everything.  The flight to Minnesota, Abigail picking out the rental car, the drive to the cabin, then… and then he… he shoved Abigail onto the sharp antlers and watched as the crimson stain spread across her chest.  He felt his stomach lurch as the memory returned.  Oh god, no… no… Abigail… No, wait – it was Abigail who was speaking to him just now.  He must’ve lost time again.  But he knew now… he knew she was the lure for Garrett Jacob Hobb’s murders. 

His eyes searched the room.  He wasn’t in a hospital, but he definitely wasn’t in the cabin anymore, either.  He had never seen this room before.  It was decorated in purple hues and lacy curtains with a white vanity and matching furniture.  White Christmas tree lights were strung up on the walls and stuffed animals were lined on top of the dresser.  Was – was this Abigail’s room?  His eyes met Abigail’s.  She seemed to tense up at his sudden alertness.  A sudden guilt panged him; he probably scared the shit out of her, whatever he did.

"Abigail, I…" Will started to say as he tried to sit up on the bed, only he couldn't.  He looked down and was alarmed to see his wrists were bound to the bed frame with makeshift restraints.  His blood ran cold when he saw the same ropes stuck out from underneath the violet floral patterned blanket at the foot of the bed, binding his ankles as well.  He looked at Abigail, confused and frightened.  This had to be another hallucination. 

"It's ok Will… Dr. Lecter explained everything.  You're very sick; I called him after you started acting all weird at the cabin.  He was already on his way up here because he was worried about you.  So... we brought you here to my parent's house."

"Wh-why am I tied to the bed?" Will whispered, trying not to let fear twist his voice.  

"Hannibal says you're confused and you might hurt yourself… or us," Abigail answered cautiously. 

Almost as if on cue, the doorknob turned and Hannibal stepped into the room, carrying a tray filled with what Will could only discern as medical supplies. 

“How is our patient, Abigail?” Hannibal asked, placing the tray on the vanity.  He began picking up items from the tray, making some sort of preparation.

“He’s awake, but his fever’s gone up,” she said directly.   

Hannibal gave a thoughtful ‘hmmm’ in response.  “Please fetch the coat rack from the living room.”  She gave a nod and rose, quickly exiting the room.

“You knew… You knew she was the bait.” Will spat in a hushed, but angry voice when she was gone. 

Hannibal turned, holding an IV bag and needle.  “Of course I did, Will.  That doesn’t change anything.  She is only guilty of being a victim.”

“We – we have to turn her in,” Will spoke, his voice losing some of its intensity at the sight of the needle. 

“You stood in my office and we both promised we would protect her.  Are you going to abandon that promise?  Is that the sense of family you wish to instill in her?”  

“I – I don’t,” Will started, but sound of footsteps nearing silenced him.  Abigail came in with the coat rack and placed it next to the bed.  Hannibal smiled at her.  “Thank you… Now, put on some gloves. I’m going to teach you how to insert an IV.”

“What?  No – no, don’t!”  Will panicked, tugging at the restraints.  Hannibal gripped Will’s arm and tied a tourniquet around it. 

“Relax, Will.  It’s just fluids to hydrate you and an antipyretic.  You’ve been unconscious for over 6 hours and your fever is going up again.  Besides, Abigail needs to learn this if she’s going to help me take care of you.”

“Just take me to a hospital,” he panted.  God, he never thought he’d hear himself say that.  It had to be the fever. 

“You can either stay here under my care, with temporary restraints until your illness has stabilized, or I can take you to the hospital.  However, I would have to recommend you be placed on a psychiatric unit where they would get a court order to hold you there for evaluation and treatment for, at the very least, 72 hours.  Is that what you want, Will?”  He asked, hanging the IV bag on the coat rack.  Abigail stepped next to Hannibal, alcohol swab in hand, waiting for Will’s response. 

“…N-no.” he unwillingly replied, looking down.  He knew he wouldn’t be able to hide that from Jack or Alana, or worst of all, Freddie Lounds.  His career would be good as over. 

“All right, then.  Abigail, disinfect the inside of Will’s arm in a clockwise fashion,” Hannibal instructed, pulling her to the side of the bed.  Will looked up at her.  She had a determined look on her face as she gently cleansed the patch of skin on his arm. 

“Good.  Use your thumb and hold the skin taut.  Take the needle and insert it into the vein at an upward angle – but – as you start to advance the needle, slowly decrease the severity of the angle.” Hannibal said, guiding her hands. 

Will tried not to wince as the needle pierced his skin, but Abigail felt his arm tense.  Her eyebrows furrowed.  “Sorry Will,” she apologized. 

 “S-ok.  I always flinch at that part,” he said giving a half smile. 

“Now,” Hannibal continued.  “Once we see the return of blood, we advance the catheter, completely inserting it… Just like that.  Then we can remove the tourniquet and…”

Will relaxed a little as he watched Abigail work, her delicate fingers trying not to cause him any pain.  Yet, his stomach started to sink.  He wanted to protect her, but she knew all along what her father was doing.  Was he completely blinded by his sense of duty to her or was she smarter than she let on?  Abigail looked up and gave him a little smile as she finished and Hannibal praised her.

“Excellent, Abigail.  Now, why don’t you go and see what we can make for dinner while I assist Will to the restroom?”  Hannibal said.  She smiled and nodded, leaving the room again. 

Will adjusted in the bed, eager for Hannibal to finally undo the restraints, but his heart fell when Hannibal turned around and was holding a urinal. 

“Please – no… I-I can walk… Just let me walk to the bathroom,” Will pleaded as Hannibal pulled the covers down to his knees.  He reddened in humiliation when he saw most of his clothing had been removed and only his boxers remained.  He continued to twist and pull at the restraints.   

“Will.  Tell me what you saw in the cabin,” Hannibal said, a little bit of force in his voice. 

Will swallowed.  “I… I hallucinated that I killed Abigail…” he stammered.  There was no sense in hiding it.  Hannibal seemed to know he had done something. 

“Were you aware you were hallucinating at the time?” Hannibal asked.  Tears formed in Will’s eyes as he shook his head ‘no’.  “Then you understand why you must be restrained for the time being.  Now, please relieve yourself so I can prepare dinner.”

Tears silently rolled down Will’s cheek and he stopped thrashing.  He turned his head into the pillow when he felt Dr. Lecter open his boxers and pull his penis out.  It took him a long time, but he finally was able to let go and empty his bladder.  The noise his piss made in the plastic urinal was painfully embarrassing to Will’s ears.  Dr. Lecter worked with clinical detachment, though, and tucked his penis back into his boxers before emptying the urinal in the hallway bathroom.  Will heard the sink run for a minute or so and when Hannibal returned, he pulled the violet blanket up around Will again, leaving his arm with the IV untucked.

“We’ll have something for you to eat in an hour or so.  Rest for now…” Hannibal said, grabbing a tissue and wiping the tears from Will’s face.  Will slowly nodded, sniffling.  He was completely mortified, but immensely grateful for Hannibal's help. 

Hannibal turned off the light and flicked on the string of lights hung up on the wall.  The room was bathed in a soft yellow glow and Will found himself uneasily drifting to sleep. 

Chapter Text

Will's fever gives way to an especially vivid dream. He is sitting at the head of a long table, unable to move or speak. The table is set for four guests with fine china and long-stemmed wine glasses.  The table is adorned with a golden table runner, flowers, and multiple candles. The elegance, however, is offset by the center piece, a freshly cut stag head. Will has a clear view into the kitchen and sees that Garrett Jacob Hobbs is there with Abigail and Hannibal, preparing dinner.  Hobbs is adoringly slicing long strips of flesh from a dead girl suspended upside-down. He places the slices onto a silver platter next to Hannibal who expertly sautés them, not at all bothered by the animated corpse in the kitchen with him. Will can hear the steady striking of a knife against a cutting board as Abigail chops vegetables. She’s covered in blood; it runs freely over the vegetables, smothering them. Suddenly, they all three turn in unison to face Will. They’re all smiling and can’t wait to serve him dinner.

A knock at the door startles Will awake. He looks to the creaking door, half-expecting to see Garrett Jacob Hobbs, but is relieved to see Abigail's outline. She flipped the light on and entered, Hannibal following behind her, carrying a tray of what looked like ham and some kind of red glaze.

Nausea hits Will at the sight and he shakes his head vigorously. "No... Please, no meat. I- I can't." he pleads.  

Hannibal frowns minutely.   

"Well, how about some broth? There's some in the cupboard." Abigail suggests. It doesn’t really sound good, but Will knows they will continue to press him to eat so he nods.

They both leave and a few minutes later, Abigail returns with a bowl and can of sprite. Much more Will's speed.  In fact, sadly, it's probably better than some of the dinners he’s made for himself in the past.  Abigail adjusted a few pillows behind Will's back to prop him up before sitting down on the bed next to him.

The predicament of feeding himself while restrained suddenly dawned on Will.  Maybe Hannibal would allow one of his wrists to be freed so he could eat? The clink of the metal spoon in the bowl drew Will's attention and he looked over just in time to see Abigail gathering a spoonful of broth.  His heart skipped a beat. She wasn't really going to…

He watched as Abigail carefully lifted the spoon to his mouth.

She was…

After a moment of hesitation, Will opened his mouth in silent assent and swallowed the broth.  A smile spread across Abigail's face at this. Will could feel his face redden; being spoon-fed was an intimate act he had not been subjected to since childhood.  It was embarrassing, but Will refrained from protesting since it was rare to see Abigail smile. They were both clumsy at first; Abigail had to wipe Will’s chin several times, but they soon got a rhythm going and Will ate almost half the bowl. 

"I think I'm good for now. Thanks for, uh, helping me," he said with a weak smile.

"Sure - I know the feeling of meat not looking appetizing," she replied simply, clearing the bowl and napkins.  Will became unnerved at the statement, believing for a moment she somehow knew about his nightmare before realizing she was referring to her father's practice of 'honoring' every part of what he had slain.  No appropriate response came to mind, so Will just tightened his lip in a frown and nodded.     

"I'm gonna go eat with Hannibal – Just yell if you need anything,” she said, stepping out of the room.

Will sighed, resting his head on the pillow.  He thought talking to students in a lecture hall was awkward enough, but there was just no handbook for dealing with the troubled teenage daughter of the murdering psychopathic cannibal that you killed. 

It wasn’t too long before there was a knock at the door and Hannibal appeared.

“Has your stomach settled?” He asked, checking Will’s IV line. Will thought he detected the slightest hint of dejection in Hannibal’s voice.

“Yeah… ah, sorry, I knew I was really nauseous when I had to turn down your cooking - That’s definitely a first,” Will apologized.

“No need for an apology, Will. I thought I would offer what Abigail and I were having for dinner before forcing something bland on you. I should be apologizing to you.”

Will was pretty sure that was Hannibal’s gracious way of accepting his apology.

“May I recheck your temperature?” Hannibal asked, picking up the thermometer. Will nodded and opened his mouth for Hannibal, allowing the instrument under his tongue. After withdrawing the thermometer, Hannibal glanced at it. Without warning, he pressed his cool hand to Will’s forehead, causing Will to shudder. The touch felt good on his hot skin, but it troubled Will, knowing this meant his fever hadn’t gone down. What he didn’t know was that Hannibal never administered the antipyretics to him. Will shut his eyes; he was starting to feel strange, like his whole body was tingling.

Hannibal walked to the table to get more IV fluids. “Looks like we’ll have to take you to the hospital,” Hannibal’s voice echoed.

“No – y-you said you’d help me…” Will moaned. He blinked, trying to stop the room from moving.  

“What was that?” Hannibal asked, turning around.

“You—you said… You said-” Will mumbled, starting to slur.

“Will, I didn’t say anything – are you all right?   Will?” Hannibal said, returning to Will’s side.

Will had no time to be troubled by the fact he heard a phantom voice that sounded like Hannibal. His body suddenly went rigid, forcing his back to arch painfully. He tried cry out but he wasn’t sure if he actually made a sound before the room swirled and quickly faded to black.

Will is thankful there are no dreams when he blacks out, but he never feels rested. It feels like only moments have passed when Will blinks and returns to consciousness.

He knew he lost time, but as always, it was a mystery as to how long. The initial confusion slowly wore off and Will’s brain pieced together his surroundings. He was still in Abigail’s bed. Right away, he noticed his right wrist and ankle restraints were undone and he was rolled over onto his side into a recovery position. Probably not a good sign… Will took a deep breath; the room was still spinning.

Hannibal and Abigail were with him in the room, talking, but their words buzzed like a detuned radio. He couldn’t tell if they were talking to each other or him. He just wanted the noise to stop.

Will stretched, trying to adjust his stiff muscles when he becomes acutely aware he was cold… and wet. No. As his vision came into focus, he looked down. His boxers were soaked along with the sheet under him. He wet the bed. No, no, no… oh god, no. His blanket has been tossed aside, leaving him nothing to cover his embarrassment. Hannibal noticed his movement and turned his attention to him. Great...

"Will - can you hear me? You had another seizure," Hannibal speaks slowly, stepping in front of Will's face. Will gives a fraction of a nod. Well, that makes sense. At least it's somewhat excusable. It does nothing to lessen his utter humiliation, though.

Hannibal produces a pen light and checks Will's pupils. He then has Will (uncooperatively) roll onto his back while he performs a few more neurological tests. Will flinches in disgust when he is forced to lay back, the wet fabric sticking to him uncomfortably, but he can’t find the words to get Dr. Lecter and Abigail out of the room without mentioning why… They have to know – especially Hannibal with his ridiculously sensitive sense of smell.

"P-please – please let me up to go to the bathroom," he croaks when he had enough of Dr. Lecter's fussing over him.

Hannibal gave him a knowing look. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of, Will. Incontinence occurs from time to time with seizures… However, this is the second seizure you've had in a 24 hour period. It's regrettable, but it would be best if you were catheterized.”

Will’s eyes widen in bewilderment and he makes a panicked attempted to free his left wrist. Hannibal easily pins him down and Will cries out as his right wrist is again strapped down.

“NO – Hannibal, S-stop!” Will struggled, trying to kick with his free leg.

“Easy, Will… We’re trying to help you…” Hannibal evenly stated. He looked over his shoulder to Abigail.

“We need to get Will out of these boxers and change his sheets. Since he’s being uncooperative, he’ll have to remain restrained and I will require your assistance. Do you think you can hold Will’s legs down?” Hannibal spoke calmly, even as Will fought with all his might.

Abigail nodded and took over, using force to keep his legs glued to the bed as the other ankle restraint was undone. Hannibal steps back and reached for Will’s boxers.

“No! Don’t fucking touch me!” Will shouted trying to squirm away.

Hannibal quickly tugged the wet boxers down. Will took a sharp breath as his thrashing involuntarily switched to bending his thighs inwards in a sad attempt to cover himself. He felt tears of frustration blur his vision as Abigail and Hannibal worked as a team to remove his dirty boxers and sheets.

He (and the bed) were now completely stripped except for a special pad that had been placed underneath the sheet to keep the mattress protected. Almost as if someone had anticipated all this. Will balled his fists in renewed aggravation.

“Just – Just get Abigail out of here – she doesn’t need to see this!” Will yelled, his composure completely lost.

“Jesus! I’ve seen a dick before, Will. I’m not going anywhere,” Abigail adamantly replied, wadding up the soiled sheet.

Hannibal raised an eyebrow at Abigail, but didn’t allow his focus to waiver. He was busy preparing the catheter. “Abigail is my assistant, Will, and a good one at that,” he paused, testing the strength of the Foley catheter’s balloon. “Can you please clean Will up before we insert the catheter, Abigail?” he asked, smiling.

Will let out an exasperated sigh. “God damn it – No!”

It was too late. Hannibal gave the order and Abigail circled the bed, retrieving a basin of warm soapy water that had been set out. She dunked a pink washcloth in the basin and firmly wrung it out. Will shook his head as she neared him. “No… please… Abigail, don’t…” he anxiously implored.

She ignored him and began rubbing the washcloth on Will’s lower belly.   He squeezed his eyes shut as she advanced further south, rubbing up and down the inside of his thighs. It felt good, and he wanted nothing more than to be clean, but not like this… He’d rather have Hannibal do this. She dipped the washcloth back in the basin. Will held his breath as she returned, cupping his balls and moving upwards, enveloping his cock in the washcloth with both hands. He tried to think of horrifying images, but his body still betrayed him. His cock twitched at the attention and the sensation of the warm washcloth and his lip trembled.  

“See, it’s not so bad, is it?” Abigail teasingly murmured, rewetting the washcloth. She grasped his ass with one hand to hold it open and slid the washcloth inside the crack of his ass.

His breath hitched at her words. He never viewed Abigail as anything but a daughter figure, but here she was, spoon-feeding him and cleaning him up after he made a mess of himself. In one day, she was more nurturing to him that he had ever been to her. He didn’t know how to react to the feelings of horrified shame mixed with gratitude that bubbled inside him.

As she finished, Hannibal placed a surgical tray on the bed with the catheter supplies. Will’s stomach twisted at the sight of the extremely long tubing. Using tweezers, Hannibal dipped a cotton ball in betadine and swabbed Will’s cockhead.

“You might want to hold Will’s hand for this…” he said to Abigail, dipping the end of the catheter in Lidocaine jelly.

Chapter Text

“All right, I’m going to begin,” Hannibal cautioned as he initiated threading the catheter into Will’s urethra.  

Will squeezed Abigail’s hand tight as the sensation went from uncomfortable to nearly unbearable.  He foolishly believed for a moment he could remain collected, but he could not contain the groans of discomfort as they rose in his throat. His breaths became short gasps of pain.  

"Nnngh... S-stop- please... It – ah! It h-hurts," He moaned as the catheter was advanced further and further.  He had catheters placed in previous hospitalizations, but this was the first time he remembered being conscious for the insertion.  It felt like it just kept going deeper inside him.  Will struggled, tugging at the restraints as if it would make the sensation stop.

“It wouldn’t hurt if you held still,” Dr. Lecter chided.  He had reached Will’s bladder and began to inflate the retention balloon.  “It’s almost over; you’re doing very well,” Dr. Lecter praised.  Working swiftly, Dr. Lecter pushed Will’s penis backwards to tape it to his belly and then connected the catheter to a drainage bag.  Will felt the warmth of urine as it drained from his bladder and ran through the tubing.  It felt weird… And quite gross.  As Hannibal stepped away, Will wilted into the bed, exhausted from the ordeal.  He loosened his grip on Abigail’s hand, but she did not let go until Hannibal asked her to retrieve something from the living room.

She came back carrying a cardboard box. Dr. Lecter reached into the box and opened a pale green hospital gown from a plastic bag.  The question of how and when Hannibal had the time to get all these medical supplies begged to be asked, but Will remained silent.  He was eager to be covered up by anything and didn’t want to ruin his chance.  He’d settle for a dishrag draped over him at this point.

“I’d like to put this gown on you, but I hesitate to undo your restraints,” Hannibal said, thumbing the folded gown.

“Please! I-I’ll hold still – I won’t do anything!” Will frantically promised, abandoning any sense of shame he had left.

Hannibal sighed, hiding his smile at Will’s desperation. “I know you’ll try, but I’m not going to risk safety.” He set the gown down and readied a syringe.  Will frowned as Hannibal flicked the syringe to remove any air bubbles. “Just a sedative,” Hannibal said, answering Will’s unspoken question.

So it’s going to be either physical restraints or chemical ones, Will thought to himself.  He could not be trusted, even when he wanted to cooperate.  He didn’t protest when Hannibal injected the sedative into his IV.  He was almost glad for it; he didn’t want to dwell on what a monster he was and the drugs would take away that pain.  It took very little time for the sedative to course through his veins and he could feel his eyes growing heavy.  Will slowly blinked and he soon couldn’t hold his head steady.  

Hannibal reached over Will and untied one of his wrists.  He was satisfied when it fell limp on the bed.  He unbound his other wrist, but left Will’s ankles bound for good measure. Will kept extremely still, trying to prove he could listen.

Dr. Lecter worked the gown on Will, spreading it over him.  Even through his drugged haze, Will felt an immediate return of his dignity as the green gown was smoothed over him. It smelled funny straight from the package, but that was the least of Will’s worries.  As Dr. Lecter stood up, Will looked at him, tears forming in his eyes.

“Will, what’s the matter?”

Will's lips tightened, trying not to cry.  Whatever medication Dr. Lecter gave him made the task difficult.  “Please – Please don’t strap me down again… I p-promise I’ll do a-a-anything you say,” he pleaded, tears running down his cheeks.  He had tubes in his arm and his dick – he was miserable.  He just wanted to be able to scratch his nose if it itched and feed himself.

Dr. Lecter frowned at Will and sat down next to him on the bed.  “Will, this isn’t a punishment. I’m only resorting to restraints because of your instability… If you’re stable through the night, we should be able to leave them off tomorrow, okay?” he said, as he grasped Will’s wrist.

Will started to sob as Dr. Lecter secured it to the bed, but he didn’t fight.  He knew it would only give Dr. Lecter more reason to restrain him.  Dr. Lecter tried to console Will by shushing him while he fastened Will’s other wrist, but Will couldn’t stop.  His chest heaved beneath the green gown as fragments of the word ‘please’ poured from his lips amongst the choked cries.

Neither Will or Hannibal was aware Abigail watched them from the doorway, her own eyes tearing up at the pitiful sight.

--------

The next morning, Will was greeted by Abigail when he woke up. “How are you feeling?” She asked quietly.

“Hungry,” he responded.  He sounded rather annoyed.

“I can make you something,” She offered.  Will simply nodded, not looking at her.  He didn’t care what she made and didn't offer any suggestions as to what sounded good to him.  Abigail stood silently at his bedside and when she didn’t leave, he looked up.

“I-I’m sorry he’s doing all this to you… I was just scared of you,” She slowly admitted with tears in her eyes.

Will immediately felt the sting of guilt. “Hey – it’s okay… I’m sorry I scared you… Look, I should’ve told you I wasn’t feeling right…” He said, wishing he could embrace her.  “Listen – lets both just be honest with each other from now on, okay? No more lies,” he said with a weak smile, trying to reconcile.

She nodded, wiping a tear away. She sat down on the bed next to him.

“Where’s Hannibal?” Will inquired.  He said he would undo the restraints and he was more than eager.

“He’s out getting food,” she answered.  She paused, considering her next words very carefully.  “Will… There’s something I need to tell you,” she said, another tear sliding down her cheek.  Will looked puzzled, but allowed her to say whatever it was in her own time.

“Dr. Lecter… Hannibal… He was the man on the phone.  He was the one who called my dad before you came over,” She admitted, crying.

Will’s eyes widened and he felt like he was going to throw up.  It was him.  He was the copycat killer – he knew as much as Will did about the cases.  Oh god… The realization hit him hard and took the air from him. “Abigail - a-are you positive?” he asked, every fiber of his being wanting it to be a lie.

She nodded tearfully.  “He knows my secret; I know his…” she said through her tears.

“We have to go – now. Abigail, he’s--” Will anxiously spoke, tugging hard at the restraints.

“Don’t you get it? If we try to run, he’ll find us and kill us both,” She sobbed.