#wcundman

the dragon is dead, the stag is absent, and the keeper of strays has flown from the madness. but what of the hawk? what of the lone cry on it’s breath as it circles the carnage with heaving breast and full lungs?

why it circles home.

matthew is the same in a way, spending months healing and finding himself drawn to the wounded shell of his former keeper. look what they have done to you, look at how the monster feasted. scars litter skin and there are pieces missing, all the result of matthew being unable to circle around with a broken wing (and oh how he blames himself some nights).

he should have kicked the bucket sooner.

instead he crawls slow like a predator across the sheets, hands and knees mindful of aching legs to instead run along thighs, along the shivering ribcage and settling upon the curve of chilton’s jaw. and he finds such beauty in him. he peers down at that face with unabashed affection and presses kisses along his favorite scars across the other man’s chest, licking them possessively, before turning his attention to his mouth.

a soft tender kiss.

“I can never remember if you prefer it when I call you fred or rick. never freddie. god that’s such a terrible name.” his thumb runs along a cheek and he cants his head, watching, waiting.

his lips curl with cruel pleasure.

Closed with @wcundman

The rumors are already spreading, and Frederick is hardly out of surgery. He's alive, and it’s a miracle. After what had happened to him, not many people would have made it. But that isn’t what people want to focus on. There’s more interest in the stories about a set of twins who brainwashed a man into thinking that he was the Chesapeake Ripper. A man who hadn’t realized he had missed one of the targets.

For that, at least, Frederick is grateful. His survival is a gift; his brother may not have been so lucky. And Frederick would rather lose his life than his other half.

And really, they’re making a big deal of nothing. He doesn’t feel any pain. Everything just feels fuzzy and warm here, in the hospital bed with the IV in his arm. He had been vaguely aware of his brother screaming at someone a few moments ago, and since the nurses had finished running around, Frederick’s been feeling pretty good. Happier than he has in years. He doesn’t care what the medical staff is saying, he can’t even hear it. He's busy staring at the swirls making their way across the ceiling.

Next to his bed there are whispers. Talk of him walking with a cane. Something he might need for the rest of his life.

Frederick doesn’t hear them. Doesn’t heed them.

“Edward.” Frederick reaches for his brother’s hand, his eyes wide as they follow an imagined shape across the plaster above his head. “Edward. I can’t be sure now... But I think the ceiling is breathing.”

The fountain pen slows to a stop on paper and Frederick’s eyes lift to find Will Graham there, in his little diving tank. It’s a sad sight; the clothing and wild, mussy hair don’t suit him. It’s bothersome to see him without his glasses, without the things he hides behind. The things that made him comfortable. There was very little about the hospital that was truly comfortable, despite it being the best of the best. The monsters didn’t mind, didn’t complain — but Will wasn’t one of those monsters. Not really. He was unique, sure, but he didn’t belong behind bars or bound. He wasn’t a danger to anyone other than himself — and even that was only because his own mind worked against him, more often than not.

A shame to have that mind toyed with. They’ve made wonderful progress so far, concerning memories and they all painted Lecter as something truly sinister.

It’s understandable that Will still feels stuck.

“Things won’t be on hold forever, Will. The trial will come and it will go — hopefully without anymore … setbacks.” His own mouth included. Delving into Graham’s mind, understanding him, witnessing him put broken pieces together. It changed how Frederick saw him. Time had a way with doing that but there’s something more going on than that and he knows it.

Will is innocent. This time around, if called, his testimony would be different. He owed him that much. He hasn’t apologized about the words he spoke in open court verbally — but he’s trying to undo the damage it may have caused between them, personally. Their sessions were only a small part of that. Dealing with Jack was another, somewhat difficult, aspect.

“Do you think you’ll continue to teach?” An honest curiosity, pen ending up at the corner of his mouth as he’s tempted to chew on it. “Once Lecter is convicted and your life is able to move away from him, will you go back to what lead you to him in the first place?”

Will certainly was looking rather rough. Adequately fed and regularly bathed sure, but this place was still draining the life out of him. Graham had never been a super groomed man but even he had seen better days. Better beds and better meals too but he wasn’t one to complain. Not to Chilton at least. No use giving him more fuel to the fire that was his never ending interest in Will’s mind and it’s inner workings.

At least the doctor believed him now, or at least he was open to the idea Will was speaking the truth and not just spinning yarns to maintain his innocence. Perhaps that slip up had been a bad idea. One sentence. One regret, desire for something that Will knew would never happen. 

There was no going back. And yet, Frederick brought up an interesting point. Will was not one to make much eye contact but in that moment he met Chilton’s gaze firmly and stood up from his seat. 

“That is the most human you’ve made me feel while I’ve been here, Dr. Chilton. --- I’m impressed,” Will teased dryly. It was more than fair to prod at the man a bit but that didn’t mean he’d be rude enough to not answer him.

     “Jack Crawford has a plan.” Will doesn’t know exactly why he’s here, under the bright hospital lights with the smell of astringent choking his senses. He’s certainly one of the last people anyone would expect to be visiting Frederick Chilton, but Frederick had come to his house to use his shower, had been arrested practically in his backyard, had pointed a gun at him and Will had laughed. It seems somehow fitting. An act, somehow, of reciprocity. 

     “If the Ripper is caught, Frederick, and you were to be exonerated—“ Will Graham’s lips quirk in the slightest of smiles. “—if everything was forgiven—“ I promised you a reckoning. But who among them is innocent? Which of them doesn’t deserve a reckoning? There’s something poetic in Hannibal framing Chilton, setting him up to take the fall for all that he’s striven to be. 

“ I'll help you stand -- Let go and hold my hand. “  ( I didn’t come for you, Frederick, but what a PLEASANT surprise it is to see you ... that’s how he’d prefaced this particular conversation, hands shoved into the pockets of his coat and smile inviting. He can’t call any hesitation unreasonable ... ) 

“ If all you wanted was me, I'd give you nothing less. “ 

uhh i think this is from a prompt but idk || accepting ! 

“ will it -- ?  What ending do you foresee, Frederick ... ?  I can’t imagine any of this was within your realm of possibility prior to the events that occurred ... Regardless ... I didn’t come here to haunt you, Frederick ... In truth, this is a happy coincidence ... I was not looking for you. “  Amiable, friendly, no sign of the beast that lurks beneath the suit.  He puts on the sweetest of skins, of smiles.  “ It’s a delight to see you again, Frederick ... “ 

it really is

SHOUT OUT ! || @wcundman

“ I've been unendingly happy to see this blog active again.  Such a great Chilton and their main verse is well built and thought out. I love them and their writing ! “