Title: Standing in the Rain
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: Hannibal Lecter/Will Graham
Fandom: Hannibal
Rating: PG-13
Author's Note: Sequel to "Waking From A Nightmare."
Disclaimer: This is entirely a product of my own imagination, and I make no profit from it. I do not own the lovely Hannibal Lecter or Will Graham, unfortunately, just borrowing them for a while. Please do not sue.
***
How long had he been standing here in the pouring rain?Will looked up at the front of Hannibal's house, clutching the key to the front door in his hand. He blinked back the rain from his lashes, simply standing there and staring.
For some reason, his body didn't want to move. It was as though he was rooted to the spot; he couldn't put one foot in front of the other and move forward.
He wanted to. But he was stuck fast, unable to either turn around, go back to his car, and drive away, or go up those steps and put the key into the lock and open that front door. He was rooted in one place, unable to do anything to resolve the dilemma that he was in.
It had begun raining as he'd driven from Wolf Trap to Baltimore, and he'd thought that the grey, overcast day suited his mood. It would also make Hannibal's house look appropriately frightening.
That house had once seemed like a refuge to him, a place where he could talk about his problems, his feelings. He hadn't known then that it would become a house of horrors.
No one had known. They'd all been so foolish.
But they had learned, hadn't they? After so many people had been killed, and it had been far too late. The truth had only come to light after far too many innocents had died.
And now here he was, standing in the rain, unable to go into the house where the man who had killed all those people had lived, worked, and kept his gruesome secrets.
Will took one deep breath, then another. He had to force himself to walk into that house. Jack had given him a key; there was nothing keeping him out other than his own hesitation, his own unwillingness to face his own fears. Though why he should still have any fears about this plae, he didn't know.
After all, it was only a house. Hannibal wasn't here any longer.
Nothing would jump out at him from dark corners. He wouldn't be attacked by an angry cannibal who wanted to kill him; that monster was safely behind bars.
But there were still ghosts in that house, Will thold himself with an inward sigh. There were innumerable ghosts that he had never managed to put fully to rest.
Ghosts that he might never be able to make his peace with.
Will swallowed hard, closing his eyes. He was sure that he would see Abigail everywhere in that house. And if he entered the room where Hannibal had murdered her, and tried to kill him, then he would never be able to exorcise the ghost that would always be there for him.
Yet, he had to force himself to do this. If he didn't, then it wouldn't only be Abigail's ghost that haunted him for the rest of his days. It would be all of the others that he hadn't been able to save.
He couldn't save everyone. He knew that. He'd known it for a long time. But this wasn't a matter of saving Hannibal's victims. It was much, much more than that.
This was a matter of saving himself.
Will squared his shoulders, taking one deep breath, then another. He couldn't stand out here all night. He had to go into that house and confront his fears.
Once he had walked through the place, then he would no longer feel that it somehow drew him. He would be able to put aside the past, and make peace with all that had happened.
At least, that was what he hoped he could do. He didn't want to leave the ghosts wandering in his mind. He wanted to see this house as it was now, devoid of its owner, stripped of his spirit. He wanted to see all the things that had taken place here in a dispassionate, objective light.
He had to look at the past, and put it behind him. If he didn't force himself to go into this house, if he turned away and left now, he might never be able to come back.
He couldn't let himself do that. He couldn't run from the past; he had to face up to it, and to put it into its proper place, if he ever wanted to have any peace of mind in the future.
It was time to stop running. It was time for confrontation.
Well, not the final confrontation, he thought, heaving a sigh. That would be when he and Hannibal finally met again, face-to-face, for the last time.
That would have to happen in the future. There was no way around that. If he wanted to let the past rest, then he had to confront the author of all of his nightmares.
But that was for the future, Will reminded himself, looking up at the house again. First, he had to get through this; he had to make himself walk through the rooms where he had once felt so safe and secure, the rooms that now held nothing but bad memories and nightmares for him.
He could do this. He had the strength. He might have doubted himself for a few moments, but he had to put those doubts behind him and do what he had to do.
Will took one step forward, then another. He counted each step as he went up them, finally stopping after what seemed to him like a very long climb.
He was here. He just had to reach out and put the key into the lock.
Will fit the key into the lock with a shaking hand, glancing behind him. The rain was coming down harder now; he had to go in. He couldn't spend the day just standing in the rain.
Taking a deep breath, he pushed the door open and took a step inside the darkened house, almost holding his breath, and wondering just what he might find.
***
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