snowblindrpg | Event: Consolidation Theory, Part Six

[ They were disappearing.

One by one, the cell blocks emptied as the men and women he'd been speaking with simply ceased to exist. The first couple of times, Will wondered if Miller was going for round too, but there was an unevenness in the way people disappeared.

And no static.

The cell block grew eerily silent, and Will began to run up and down it's length. He lost track of House first, scanning the cells twice in the desperate hopes that he'd simply missed the man, but there was nothing. Next was Hannibal, there one moment but then gone the next and with him the last voice, Will could hear.

"HANNIBAL!" He'd screamed, running back and forth three times before he tripped over his own feet and went crashing down onto his destroyed hands. The pain rocketed up his arms, and nearly left him heaving. As he lay there, gasping, Will become aware of nothing but the sound of his own panting breath.

Everything went still then.

The cell block remained, but it became fractured. Splitting between the perceptions of the moldering block and the familiar landscape of the BSHCI. Pushing himself up to a seated position, Will leaned back against the cell bars, only he felt the smooth press of plexiglass against his spine; not rigid metal.

As he sat there, the sound of hoofs against stone echoed down the corridor. Slowly, Will turned his head and looked to where the Ravenstag was emerging from a cell down at the end.

The animal was enormous in the small space, seeming as if he shouldn't even fit and yet he always did. The large rack of antlers were especially sharp and gleamed in weak light, as if soaked in some thick, viscous liquid. His sharp, bright eyes looked at Will expectantly, even as he walked right up to the seated man.

Will stared at the animal, before he closed his eyes. In the next moment he felt a searing pain across his lower abdomen, heard a weak, gurgling cry ... like a dove with its throat slit. He screwed his eyes shut even tighter, not wanting to see what he knew was on the other side.

A sharp snort and stomp of a hoof forced Will to look. The moldering cellblock was in the background, like a picture that was just out of focus or didn't quite fit the frame. Hannibal's kitchen stood all around him, looking large and intimidating from his place on the floor. He could see Abigail's legs, hear her last breaths as she choked on her own blood.

I never made it out of here. The thought came unbidden and Will's brows drew together, because he was sure he remembered surviving. Italy, Verger, Molly ... the cliff.

The fantasy of a dying mind. Wanting victory, instead of defeat. Wanting a normal life, a friend, genuine connections, instead of weeks of murder and darkness.

No. No that wasn't right.

Except, would it be so bad if it were?

'Lay your head back, Will and wade into the quiet of the stream.'

Maybe he had, after all. Maybe all of this had been the last firings of a dying brain and now, it had all gone quiet.

The stag bellowed then, making Will jump and for a moment, everything was clear. The moldering cell block, Miller ... but even as it came to him, it slid away. Like water escaping desperately cupped palms.

Will closed his eyes again, raced away from the pain in his hands and the confusion in his mind. Retreated to the stream. He waded into it, but he didn't tilt his head back. Instead he cast a fly line out into the small rapids downstream and purposefully ignore the bellowing of the stag from where it stood on the riverbank. ]

Edited 2018-05-07 20:25 (UTC)

[Hannibal was all too aware of the fragile state of Will's mind. Indeed, he had explored it thoroughly, experimented on it, found it's weak spots and blind spots and taken advantage. So when he approached Will where he lay, he knew it would take some care to gather up the pieces of his friend and put them back together.

He crouched next to his friend, and watched his eyes moving behind his lids for a few moments before speaking.]

Will. Can you hear me?

[ He'd doe so well in the beginning, though looking back he would realize that he had come into Norfinbury and enjoyed a period of relative calm before these recent storms. But in the recent weeks it seemed that everybody he started to pull himself back together, he'd end up dropping all the pieces before he could get them glued back in.

He heard the stag snort, then give another powerful bellow. Deep in the river, Will tried to ignore the sounds and focus simply on the rush of water around him. The water was comforting in the way it rushed past his legs, the rod felt solid in his hand and he gave his wrist lazy flicked, hearing the soft whisper of the line through the air.

It was peaceful, serene. Out of the corner of his eye the river banks tried to bleed into the moldy cell walls, but Will simply doubled his focus on the river and his fly line, ignoring everything else. ]

Edited 2018-05-10 00:46 (UTC)

[Hannibal could tell that Will was not merely trapped in the delusion of the cells. While Hannibal found solace in the hushed, reverent silence of a chapel, Will was a different creature. And Hannibal knew exactly where he was.

Hannibal knelt next to Will, and bent over him, settling a hand on his head, his lips close to Will's ear.]

What are you fishing for, Will? Trout? Salmon? What lure have you tied to your line?

[ That close to his ear, Hannibal arrived just behind his shoulder. There was a flash, where they both stood in the moldy cell block, bars all around them before that bled into the stone walls of BSHCI. It took a little bit of effort, but Will brought them both back to the calm of the river, his lines still dancing in the air.

He didn't respond immediately, but eventually he seemed to realize it would be rude not to say something. ]

Sometimes fishing has nothing to do with catching.

[ His voice was calm, almost peaceful. The soft tone he had occasionally adopted when he spoke to Hannibal after a particularly difficult encounter. ]

[Hannibal knew that his friend was bone-tired, physically, mentally and emotionally. He wished that he could take Will fishing, or take him to some beautiful place in Europe. Someplace where the two of them could embrace and just rest. But he couldn't. Not here, and certainly not now.]

There is yet a fish that needs to be caught, is there not? A shark, that has taken a bite out of you. A bite out of all of us.

[ 'A shark, that has taken a bite out of you. A bite out of all of us.' Miller.

Will felt a stirring of emotion at the suggestion of the man. The damage done, not so much to Will himself, he was used to the abuse and all the baggage that came with it, but to others. People like Hannibal, House, Ginger, Enoch ... so many others none of whom deserved anything like this.

Yes, even Hannibal.

But the stirring couldn't break through the thick layers of exhaustion. The sense of futility, born from failure. Though Will had briefly paused, he went back to flicking the fly across the water. ]

Sharks don't swim in rivers. [ He said, in a quiet voice. ]

That is correct. You will not be able to deal with it here. You must come with me.

[Hannibal touched Will's hair gently, stroking it, his voice smooth and soft, even though he was still hoarse from the abuse his throat had endured.]

I know you're tired, Will. But we need you.

I need you.

There are plenty of us, many with a greater claim to retribution than either you or I, who are ready to deal with that shark. [ Will pointed out, still calmly flicking the line.

The bellowing from the stag had ceased, but the creature no longer stood on a riverbank. Instead, it was just inside one of the cells, peering through the bars towards Will. Keeping his focus on the river in front of him was all that kept it in view as the moldering environment began to steadily encroach. ]

You and I are conjoined. [ He reiterated, turning his head slightly so that he could see Hannibal's face, though not risk dislodging the hand in his hair. ]

But you know the risk we pose. [ There was a part of Will caught in conflict on this point. The part that wanted to be needed, but was wrestling with some of the charges laid at his feet by Beckett. The risk he posed to a man like House and others. ]

You could stay here, with me? [ He offered in a soft wistful voice. ]

I wish I could, Will. I sincerely do. But this place isn't real. Neither are the cells where we have thought ourselves to be for the past couple of days. It's all been an illusion, and we need to leave now if we are to escape.

[He doesn't move, though, continuing to stroke Will's hair, more on his mind.]

You and I are conjoined. And I believe that we can come to an agreement that will satisfy us both, with regard to who is at risk from us.

[ The river was starting to grow dark at the edges, the sun on the water the only light Will could see as the dank, darkness of the cell block started to take over. He meant what he said about staying. Forget escape, let Miller and his static people finish them off as part of a failed experiment.

But Hannibal continues, offering up a suggestion that touches on Will's need for the idea of hope.

The river falls away completely, the rod disappearing from his hand as he turns towards his lover, both in his mind and also in the reality that Hannibal inhabits. His eyes are still glazed but there is deliberate focus in them. ]

Do you genuinely believe that?

[ He wasn't calling his friend a liar, rather approaching with cautious hope. ]

[Hannibal had Will's attention, his focus, and he cradled Will's cheek, aiming by the touch to keep him focused, to keep him from slipping away again.]

Our union is above all else to me, Will. I wish to nourish it, strengthen it, to encourage it to flower. Such a thing is best done not by fighting our circumstances, but by bringing them into harmony. By an agreement that honors us both at our very core.

[ Having Hannibal's hand on his cheek stirred mixed emotions. On the one hand it was comforting. On the other, the man had cradled his cheek while surgically slicing open his abdomen.

He didn't slip back, the river continued to fade, leaving just the sound of rushing water all around as he studied his lover's face. ]

What ... what are you thinking?

[Those mixed emotions were entirely appropriate, that touch always both loving and lethal.]

An agreement on selection criteria. That our focus be on justice.

[Hannibal didn't want to get too specific, considering there are others in the room, and the possibility of recording. But he trusted that his friend was capable of connecting the dots.]

[ To Will's perspective, they were alone. Standing in the cell block, the stag somewhere off in the shadows, snorting. But he had become used to talking carefully and following Hannibal's lead, which was what he did now.

Leaning into the touch on his cheek, he watched dark and fathomless eyes. ]

I do appreciate ... balance.

[ Righteous violence was the term he wanted to use, but refrained from say aloud. Hannibal would see it in his eyes, regardless. ]

[Righteous violence, indeed.]

There are many who deserve our attentions, Will. Many who would satisfy our common purpose. Our shark being the foremost of those.

[ Miller was a very tempting target. Even if Will didn't currently have the energy to thrive in anger at the man, he did feel a rush of purpose in the idea of taking Miller down.

The idea of stopping this insanity, of freeing the trapped data collective so those minds could finally rest.

The darkness of the cells was starting to fade, become brighter and Hannibal was once again edging towards looking larger than life as Will watched his face. ]

We focus on the shark. On what it takes to get to the shark?

[There was always a risk in trying to contain Hannibal, be it physically or otherwise. He had a tendency to rebel against his bonds, an instinct which was so crucial to his survival. But there were times when he put those bonds on himself, when he restricted his own actions for the greater beauty.]

I promise.

[ Miller could be very beautiful indeed. The end of this place and the horrors within could be transcendent. Even if it turned out to be all perception, Will would pull the plug and string it up the same as he'd done with Mischa's killer. Were he to gain the opportunity.

He also knows that this is a promise not given lightly.

The darkness of the old cell block is fading rapidly now, Will's breaths starting to come more quickly as he wakes. In another breath, he blinks and when he looks back at his lover, his expression is definitely more alert. ]

Hannibal?

[Hannibal smiles as he sees Will emerge from the delusion, relieved that his lover was able to break free. He strokes Will's cheek, his eyes glimmering.]

Hello, Will.

[ Unfortunately he's bringing along some friends. Even as the darkness fades away completely, replaced by the white, spartan rooms, Will's eyes land on Hobbs standing over by a sink, Dolarhyde -wings flared- over by the door and Mischa's killer is hovering, like an over-sized dragon fly up against the ceiling.

Will understands, in so much as he's navigated this shit all his life, that they aren't real, so he locks his eyes back on Hannibal's face, studying his lover's features before he glanced at the door. ]

Do we need to leave?

[Hannibal notes the way Will's eyes focus on things that don't appear to be there. He might have thought that some tendrils of the cells still had a hold in Will's mind, but he knows Will too well. His friend has company that he brought into this place with him.

He stands and offers Will his hand.]

As soon as possible.

[ He will focus on Hannibal, letting the older man keep the hallucinations at bay for the moment while they work to get out of here. Reaching up, he takes his friend's hand, leaning a little more than he'd like on Hannibal's strength as he climbs to his feet.

Standing sets off a wave of vertigo, and he's forced to clutch even more tightly on to Hannibal's hand. But it doesn't feel as if they have time to wait, so he nods to indicate he's ready. ]

[Not wishing to take the chance of Will losing his footing and perhaps harming himself further, when his friend wavers Hannibal pulls him close and puts an arm around him, holding him steady. He squeezes him gently, intended as comfort, then guides him toward the exit.]

Event: Consolidation Theory, Part Six

cw: dissociation and mental instability ( Closed to Hannibal and House )

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train typos /o\

No worries!

cw: abuse

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cw: suicidal ideation

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