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Title: Walking in His Sleep
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: Hannibal Lecter/Will Graham
Fandom: Hannibal
Rating: PG-13
Table: writers_choice
Prompt: #66, Drenched
Author's Note: Sequel to "Without Guidance."
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.


He'd done it again. He'd been sleepwalking again.

Will huddled under the blanket that he'd wrapped himself when he'd finally limped back into his home; he was drenched, soaked to the bone. He'd been sleepwalking in the pouring rain, in nothing but his boxers and a t-shirt, barefoot on the asphalt.

He had woken up on the road, not knowing where he was for a few moments, having no idea why he was outside in the pouring rain.

Then he realized that he'd been sleepwalking -- and the fear had set in, a numbing, paralyzing fear that had threatened to take him over and make him sink to his knees, or collapse in a sobbing, wailing heap on the road, to just lie there in the rain.

But he hadn't done that. He hadn't let himself break down.

Winston had been with him, and the dog had guided him home. For a few moments, he'd been completely disoriented, with no idea of where he was in relation to his house.

Winston had taken care of that, getting him turned around again, getting him back on the right track to home. He had limped most of the way there; his feet had been aching, which wasn't surprising, considering that he was walking barefoot.

He'd gone about two miles, which must have taken him a while in his sleep. He was lucky that Winston had stuck right by his side.

Will didn't want to think of what he would have done without his dog; he was lucky to have Winston. Fate had definitely been watching out for them both when he'd picked the dog up on the side of the road and taken him home; it was a very good thing he took in strays.

He sighed softly, leaning back against the couch cushions and closing his eyes. He was something of a stray himself, wasn't he? That was probably what Hannibal would say.

It seemed that Hannibal was right about everything lately.

Hannibal wanted him to have an MRI, a CAT scan, and now he was convinced that his lover was right about that. It had been scheduled for Monday afternoon, and he'd thought that he would be all right and stay stable over the weekend.

He hadn't expected this. He hadn't imagined that he would be sleepwalking. He had thought that he'd have a comfortable weekend, and then see to the problem.

Apparently, his unconscious mind had other ideas. The sleepwalking had already made him nervous and tense, kept him on edge. Now, it was actually starting to frighten him. He didn't know what his body did when his mind asleep, and that was terrifying.

He hated the feeling of being out of control.

Will huddled further into the couch, knowing that he should probably get up and go take a shower, but unable to make himself get up.

His legs felt weak and wobbly, and he wasn't sure that he could make it up the stairs at the moment. All he could do was sit here and contemplate what had happened tonight -- and wonder what the core reason behind his sleepwalking was all about.

He'd never done this when he was a child. It hadn't started happening until he'd moved here, actually. Not until he had started using his empathic gift on a regular basis.

He had used that gift when he was a cop in New Orleans, but not like he did now. He hadn't exercised it on a nearly daily basis. It had only been used sparingly.

And he'd never told anyone there about it, either. He hadn't told anyone about what he could do until he had begun working for the FBI -- and Jack Crawford had snatched him up and insisted on using him like a trained animal to bring Jack glory.

Maybe that was the problem, he told himself wryly. Maybe he was sleepwalking because he was being worked too hard, because he was letting Jack use him.

But if he didn't use his gift, people would die.

That was something he couldn't make himself live with. He had this ability, so he had to put it to use. If it could save people's lives, then he couldn't hold it back, even if it damaged him in some ways. He couldn't let himself be that selfish.

Though now, it felt as if the ability was taking him over, taking more and more out of him each time it was used. He was being worn down, diminished.

Was using his empathy so much one of the reasons he was sleepwalking more than ever? Or was it some deeper, darker reason? Will shivered, pulling the blanket closer around him. He wasn't sure if he could deal with finding out the answers to those questions.

But still, he had to. For his own safety, and his peace of mind.

He sighed softly, finally making himself get up and walk to the kitchen. He could use something hot to drink, to warm him up. And he needed to walk.

If he sat here and gave in to the fear that was starting to press in on him, he would only make things worse. He had to get up, to do something, to feel as though he was being useful. If he didn't, then he would succumb to his fears, and he wouldn't do himself any good.

Besides, he obviously wasn't going to get any more sleep tonight, he told himself wryly. He might as well drink coffee; it would keep him awake and alert.

He might not need to be awake, but he didn't want to sleep again. What if his body decided to lead him into another sleepwalking episode and he went out in the rain again without realizing what he was doing? He could end up catching pneumonia.

What he really wanted to do was to dry off, get into his car, and drive to Baltimore, right to Hannibal's house, and let him know what had happened tonight.

No, he wasn't going to bother Hannibal tonight. He'd tell him tomorrow.

Really, what he had to do tonight was to take a shower, to get himself warm, and to settle down with a book until the morning. Then he could call Hannibal, tell him what had happened, and ask if he could spend the next night at Hannibal's home in Baltimore.

The dogs would be all right. He could leave them overnight, and there would be no problem. He'd done it before; it wasn't something to worry about.

No, he had much bigger worries on his mind, such as just why his sleepwalking was becoming such a regular reoccurrence. What was wrong with him that made his body take over like that? It was a frightening feeling to know that he could be so out of control.

He didn't want to think about that now. He wanted to push it all away.

WIll moved around the kitchen slowly, starting a pot of coffee before going back into the living room. He really should get into the shower now, while the coffee was brewing.

He'd been drenched to the bone by cold rainwater, and that wouldn't be good for his health. The best thing to do was to take care of himself as best he could tonight, and then get to Hannibal's house tomorrow. His lover would take care of him much better than he could himself.

Hannibal would know what he should do. He could lay all of this at his lover's feet, and trust Hannibal to know what was best. It felt good to come to that realization, to know that he had someone he could lean on who cared for him and would want to help.

What would he do without Hannibal in his life?

He didn't want to think about that, either. If he didn't have Hannibal in his life, he would be a lot worse off than he was now -- and this darkness that felt as though it was creeping up on him to slowly enshroud him would be taking over a lot more quickly.

Will sighed as he headed for the shower, hoping that the rest of the night would go by quickly.