Will closed his eyes and focused. He allowed his mind to turn time back, let himself step into the shoes of a killer. Strange, how some people were so confused and curious about his gift, when he'd had it all his life. A gift, that's what Jack Crawford had called it when he first found out about the way Will could empathize with anyone. But to Will, what he could do wasn't a gift. It was a curse, and one that would probably drive him mad or cost him his life in the end.

He would have given up and left long ago, and with good reason, if it wasn't for that guilty feeling that clawed its way out of the deepest, darkest parts of him and surfaced whenever he thought of quitting. He couldn't leave because with every case that Jack set him on, with every crime scene they visited and every psychopath's shoes that he stepped into, he was solving things and answering questions and saving people. He was also tearing himself apart bit by bit, a little more with every murder he had to examine and mentally commit, but that part didn't matter, not when innocent lives were being saved.

There was no one else like him, no one else who could think the way he did. And if he left his job as a "special agent" with the FBI, he would also be forfeiting his ability to save people and make a difference in just a few lives. Without him, people would die. And he just couldn't have that on his conscience. Not when he could have stayed and continued working.

But he was slowly getting worse and worse. He'd gotten CAT scans, MRI's and just about every test and examination there was to see if he had a brain tumor or something in his head that was getting to him. His hallucinations were getting more vivid with each passing day, and he got very little sleep at night. He looked like hell, and Jack often told him so. But he could care less about his appearance; he was getting worried that there was something wrong with him beyond the physical. As if he didn't have enough to worry about already, his nightmares, visions, and failing health aside.

Opening his eyes, he looked around the room with fresh eyes. He wondered if it would be disorienting or frightening for anyone else to step out of their perspective and fully accept the thoughts and perspective of someone else. Funny, how he'd been doing it for so long now that it wasn't strange or disorienting as much as uncomfortable, and he knew it would haunt him later. But now, now he needed to focus. And now he would focus. He blinked once, pushing his troubled thoughts away and resuming his new role as their mystery man or woman, the killer of the three people who were lying face down on the carpet in front of him.

He went through the motions and knew exactly what had led up to the three bodies lying on the floor, now nothing but cold corpses. But just as he was about to snap out of it and step back into being himself, he heard it.

The soft but steady sound of heavy hoof beats. They seemed to be coming from the kitchen, which opened up into the living room, where he was now standing. He looked up just as the massive creature stepped into the room, lowering its head so that its antlers wouldn't scrape the ceiling. It inhaled deeply, breath coming out in a puff that somehow managed to sound something like his name. Again, the elk breathed in deeply, and seemed to be saying his name. But this time was different, and he realized that it wasn't the elk who was talking to him; the voice calling his name was that of Jack Crawford.

"Will, What can you tell me about our mystery man? Will?"

With a jolt, Will came back to reality. He glanced at the clock on the wall and blinked once. It's 5:30 pm. I am in Baltimore, Maryland. My name is Will Graham.

He was torn from his thoughts when Jack leaned closer to him and asked loudly, "Will? Our mystery man?"

"Or woman," Will said quietly. He glanced around the room and then back down at the three bodies before him. The three people he'd just felt himself kill. He took a deep breath and lifted a hand to rub his face before putting his glasses back on. He always took them off and put them safely in his pocket before stepping into someone else's shoes.

He wanted to sink down to the floor and fall asleep right there where he was standing, but he was also afraid of sleeping. The nightmares were getting to be too much. Besides, he couldn't sleep now; Jack was still waiting for him to elaborate on what he'd seen. Taking a deep breath, Will turned back to face him.

"A woman?" Jack asked.

Will nodded, glancing at the bodies and the blood-stained carpet for a moment before looking up again. "I'm not entirely sure. But it's very likely."

"Why do you say that?"

Will took another moment to study the dead people. "It's the way they died. There was mercy and . . . something else."

"Something else?" Jack raised his eyebrows.

Will shook his head, trying to grasp again at the idea he'd stumbled upon moments before. "There was a kind of love shown in their deaths. They died quickly; the mercy. But the something else; something maternal and motherly, maybe sisterly?"

The crease between Jack's brows—which was ever-present these days—deepened. "A mother or a sister."

But Will shook his head. "A mother or sister-figure. There isn't necessarily any blood relation."

Jack rubbed his eyes and pulled out his phone. "We'll still need to find and interview all female relatives of the victims'."

He dialed a number, held the phone to his ear, and muttered a few words to the person at the other end of the line when they answered. But Will didn't bother to listen to what he was saying. He felt a drop of liquid fall onto his cheek from above him and looked up. Water seemed to be coming out of a place in the ceiling, spreading and moving across the space above him and dripping down on him and the people around him. He glanced around, but no one else seemed to notice that it was raining inside. So he returned his attention to the ceiling, watching the place where the water was flowing out from somewhere above.

Just as he decided that he should find his way into the attic and check for a water leak, Jack interrupted his thoughts. "Will," he said, and Will stopped looking at the ceiling. He saw Jack look up at the very place where all the water was coming from, but he didn't seem to be able to see it. He glanced at Will questioningly as Will stared at a drop of water that had left the ceiling and landed right on Jack's cheek. It slid slowly downward even as Will watched. He blinked once and the drop of liquid was gone. Glancing up at the ceiling as Jack hurried him out the door, he saw that the water on the ceiling was gone too, and there was no sign that it had ever even existed. Sighing, he let Jack herd him to the car and push him into his seat. As he fumbled with the seatbelt he asked, "Where are we going now?"

Jack turned and looked at him, muttered, "You look like hell, Will," and said, this time in his normal, authoritive voice, "We're going to meet someone."

"Who?" Will asked, turning to look out the window as they pulled out of the driveway of the unfamiliar house where three people had died the night before.

"Someone a lot like you. Been doing the same kinds of things for just as long as you have. The only difference is that this person isn't half as affected by working as you are. An old friend of mine, actually."

"You're hoping I can learn something from him about not letting it get to my head," Will said, an exhausted, amused half-smile curving his lips.

Jack said nothing and the rest of the drive was spent in silence.

He raised his eyebrows and looked at Jack in surprise when they pulled into the parking lot of a Starbucks. "What kind of agent wants to meet at a coffee place?" he asked.

The smallest of smiles turned up the corners of Jack's lips. "This isn't an agent or your psychiatrist, Will. I told you; just like you, they've been in the job for a while. But, uh, this person has some different tastes than you do."

"Right," Will muttered as they walked towards the door, "like meeting FBI agents at Starbucks. That's completely normal."

He kept his voice low, but Jack turned and looked at him. "I'm not meeting anyone here today," he said. "I'm just introducing the two of you and leaving you to have a chat over hot coffee." He paused a minute, looking Will over and adding, "And maybe a cookie or two; you look pale. A little sugar in your blood might help you out."

They had been walking as they talked, and Jack pushed open the door and Will followed him in. They both looked around, and Will thought that whoever he was meeting must be late because there was only one person in the place beside them, seated at a corner table with a laptop and hastily scribbling something down in a notebook. He glanced at Jack, expecting them to find a table to sit at until the mystery man Will had to meet arrived. But Jack glanced at the one table in the corner of the place and said, "Ah, early, as always," and started to walk towards the table.

Will followed along behind, hissing things at Jack, who seemed to be ignoring his complaints. "Why did we have to meet here? This isn't what I expected at all! This is completely unproffessiona-"

Jack turned on him suddenly and hissed back, "Just . . . give it a chance. When's the last time you sat down to have a friendly conversation with someone?" He paused for a moment, waiting for the reply both of them knew Will wouldn't give, and then said, "That's what I thought. You might actually enjoy it, you know. You are allowed to do that. Be nice; this is a new colleague of yours."

But Will wasn't sold. This was the last place he'd expected to be meeting anyone, let alone a new colleague. And as far as he could tell, this "new colleague" was nothing like him and the two of them wouldn't get along very well. Sighing, he didn't even force a smile when he and Jack reached the table.

Hello there! This is my first Hannibal story, so please be kind. But I'd love to hear what you thought of it. I know this was short, but it's just the beginning. I promise there will be longer chapters in the near future! If you have any corrections/suggestions/critiques then please let me know. Thank you for reading! ~Taelr