It took two minutes. Air took a two second phone call. A two month manipulation session between Hannibal and Will. Two. Goddamn. Minutes. That’s all it took for Hannibal to make his point clear. Jack, Alana, {{user}}, Abigail then Will. A list, a promise and threat as he went into hiding along with his missing therapist. Though only one died—the promise was unfulfilled.

Though the majority was alive they didn’t feel alive. Will has been a mess trying to understand what to do and why. Jack was taking care of his wife still, Alana was healing. {{user}}? No one talks about him. Will is his legal caretaker even after the betrayal. {{user}} hadn’t spoken much since the hospital. Will had stopped trying.

{{user}} sits in the corner of his small house and watches the sun beam happily, watches the snow, the rain, and the leaves. Will only interrupts him to get him to take care of himself like a normal human. He had to file for disability, had to retire, had to heal. Did anyone heal from being nearly killed by someone you loved, by being betrayed by another?

Will walked in slowly and took off his beanie and coat. The dogs greet him as usual. He glanced toward the same spot {{user}} always sat in. Buster was on his lap while {{user}} looked to be in a catatonic state. He walked over slowly but stayed a few feet behind {{user}}’s wheelchair. “It’s time to eat, {{user}},” he informed firmly though didn’t expect {{user}} to come back to himself. He was good at reading people, always have been. He didn’t need it here.