Chapter Text
It was a morning like any other.
Wake up at six, eat breakfast, take a shower, and somehow drag himself to class before Professor Gideon could start complaining about punctuality again. At least, that was how most mornings went. The last few months had been slightly more complicated.
Someone had been stalking him.
Nothing particularly dramatic. A few unsettling messages, some photographs taken from uncomfortable distances, and the occasional gift appearing where it definitely shouldn’t have been. Creepy? Absolutely. Dangerous? So far, not really.
Unfortunately, his uncle disagreed.
Jack Crawford worked for the FBI, which meant he took things like stalkers far more seriously than Will did. What had started as a few extra security measures had somehow escalated into a revolving door of bodyguards.
Will hated every second of it.
Not because they were bad at their jobs. Most of them were perfectly competent. The problem was that they insisted on being around him.
Constantly.
Will liked his own company. He liked Winston, good books, quiet rivers, and the handful of people he had personally decided were tolerable. Beyond that, he generally preferred being left alone. Bodyguards made being left alone surprisingly difficult. So naturally, he kept escaping them.
Sometimes he slipped away through side entrances. Sometimes he disappeared into crowds. Once he had convinced a bodyguard that he was attending a lecture across campus, he spent three hours reading beside the lake. The poor idiot had nearly resigned afterward. As a result, Will went through bodyguards faster than most people went through phone chargers.
Jack was not amused.
Yesterday, however, his uncle had shown up with a look that immediately made Will suspicious.
“I found someone.”
Four simple words.
Four deeply concerning words. When Will had asked who, Jack’s smile had only widened.
“Possibly the most patient man I’ve ever met.”
That sounded ominous.
“And one of the smartest.”
That was even worse. Apparently bodyguard work wasn’t even his primary profession. Will had immediately imagined some wealthy bastard suffering through a midlife crisis and looking for an unusual hobby.
The thought still amused him.
“Will, please tell me you’re joking.”
Beverly’s voice pulled him back to reality. She was leaning toward him from the neighboring desk while Professor Gideon continued his lecture at the front of the classroom. Judging by the diagrams on the board, they were discussing facial expressions again.
Or body language.
Or both.
Will wasn’t entirely sure.
“What?” he whispered.
“The bodyguard.”
“What about him?”
Beverly stared at him.
“You’ve gone through seven.”
“And?”
“The last one almost cried, Will. You can’t continue doing that.”
Will considered that but then just shrugged. Beverly shook her head before returning her attention to the professor. A few seconds later she leaned back again.
“I still don’t understand how you keep doing it.”
“Doing what?”
“Escaping.”
Will glanced out the window where students crossed the courtyard below. Somewhere outside, free from lectures, responsibilities, and overprotective FBI relatives, Winston was probably having a significantly better day than he was.
A small smile tugged at his lips.
“It’s surprisingly easy.”
For some reason, that answer only seemed to worry Beverly more.
“Will, you have a stalker. Maybe you should take this a little more seriously?”
Will glanced up from his notes.
“Bev, you know as well as I do that most studies show the majority of stalking cases never escalate beyond a lovesick idiot with poor judgment.”
“Maybe,” Beverly admitted, “but there are still plenty that don’t end well.”
Her voice had lost its usual teasing edge. Will sighed.
“I’ll be careful.”
“You’d better be.”
Apparently satisfied with that answer, Beverly returned to her notes while Will did the same.
By lunchtime they had migrated outside, claiming their usual spot beneath one of the large trees near the academy. Students crossed the campus as Beverly devoured a sandwich with alarming efficiency.
“So,” she said between bites, “do you think Jack will actually get you into the FBI once we’re done here?”
“Not before I graduate.”
“Just like me?”
“Just like you.”
Beverly grinned.
“Well, that’s only fair.”
“I wasn’t complaining.”
Will leaned back against the tree trunk and watched a group of students hurry across the courtyard. Unlike Beverly, he wasn’t particularly hungry. Unfortunately, once classes ended, he still had to go to work. The thought alone was enough to ruin an otherwise decent afternoon.
God, he hated tending bar.
When he’d first started looking for a part-time job, he’d wanted something simple. A garage. A mechanic’s shop. Somewhere quiet, preferably involving engines instead of people.
Jack had disagreed.
Apparently working with customers was supposed to be “good for his social skills.” Will remained convinced that was complete nonsense.
He wasn’t antisocial.
He was perfectly capable of holding a conversation when necessary.
He was polite.
Mostly.
The problem was that people were exhausting.
Too many conversations.
Too many emotions.
Too many thoughts written plainly across faces that nobody else seemed to notice. His empathy would be helpful during future investigations and profiling exercises.
Everywhere else it was mostly a curse.
“Do you think Anthony’s going to yell at you again?”
Beverly’s voice pulled him from his thoughts.
Will laughed.
“Anthony spends half his shifts flirting with customers. I seriously doubt he cares about my attitude.”
“Lucky you.”
“Trust me, he’s got bigger problems than me.”
Beverly groaned dramatically.
“I wish Chilton was half as relaxed.”
“At least Chilton pays you when he says he will.”
She pointed at him.
“Okay. That’s fair.”
The rest of the afternoon passed much like every other day. For Will, most of the lectures weren’t particularly challenging. He listened, took notes when necessary, and spent the majority of the time pretending not to notice Beverly glaring at people who chewed too loudly.
By the time evening arrived, she dropped him off outside the bar where he worked.
“Try not to get fired.”
“I’ve been trying for months.”
“Somehow that’s not reassuring.”
“It wasn’t meant to be.”
Beverly rolled her eyes and drove away.
Will watched her disappear into traffic before heading toward the employee entrance. With all the enthusiasm of a man heading toward his execution, Will pushed through the back door, opened his locker, and pulled on his work shirt.
The moment Will stepped behind the bar, he regretted coming to work. The place was already packed. Music drifted through the room, glasses clinked together, and somewhere near the dartboards a group of students was already loud enough to become a problem later.
Wonderful.
He had barely tied his apron when he spotted his boss leaning against the counter, chatting up a customer with the kind of confidence only Anthony seemed capable of possessing. The woman was laughing at everything he said.
“Will,” Anthony greeted dramatically. “My favorite employee.”
“You say that to everyone.”
“Not true.”
The older man grinned. Before Will could escape, he immediately noticed that particular look on Anthony’s face. The one that usually meant trouble.
“No.”
“I haven’t even asked yet.”
“You don’t need to.”
Anthony placed a hand over his chest as if deeply wounded.
“Your faith in me is inspiring, kid.”
“What do you want?”
A smile spread across his face.
“I have a date.”
Of course he did. Will wasn’t even surprised anymore. The man collected dates the way other people collected parking tickets.
“And?”
“And I need someone to cover my section.”
Will stared at him. Anthony smiled back.
“No.”
“Come on.”
“You are a grown man.”
“And yet here we are.”
Will pinched the bridge of his nose.
The conversation felt less like a negotiation and more like watching a natural disaster slowly approach.
Unfortunately, Anthony had already started removing his apron.
“You can’t just leave.”
“Watch me, kiddo. I'm your boss, I can do whatever I want.“
A moment later, he was already backing away toward the employee exit.
“Good luck, Will. If anyone asks, I died heroically.”
Then he vanished into the crowd.
Will stared after him. The section he had just inherited suddenly seemed twice as large.
Fucking great.
A quiet laugh pulled him from his suffering. One of the customers sitting at the counter lifted his glass slightly.
“Looks like you got promoted.”
Will immediately recognized him. The young man showed up often enough that their conversations had become part of the routine. Not every night, but often enough that Will no longer bothered asking what he wanted to drink.
“Something like that.”
The customer grinned.
“Rough day?”
“Existing is exhausting.”
That earned another laugh.
“Fair.”
Will reached for a glass.
“The usual?”
“Please.”
For a few moments neither spoke while Will prepared the drink. The bar remained busy around them. Someone cheered near the dartboards. A waitress squeezed through the crowd carrying an overloaded tray, and somewhere in the back somebody dropped a glass.
Normal.
Comfortably normal.
“Classes going alright?” the young man asked after taking a sip.
“They exist.”
“That bad?”
“They involve people.”
“Ah.”
He nodded solemnly.
“Say no more.”
Will almost smiled.
The conversation drifted naturally from there, neither particularly meaningful nor memorable. The kind of exchange that happened when two people saw each other often enough to recognize one another without ever becoming actual friends. Eventually the young man returned to his drink, and Will moved on to the next customer. The brief peace lasted less than a minute.
The bell above the entrance chimed.
Will didn’t bother looking up at first. The bar was full of college students tonight. Most of them would order cheap beer, flirt badly, and regret their decisions tomorrow morning.
Nothing unusual.
He was already reaching for another glass when a faint scent drifted through the air.
Expensive.
Subtle.
Completely out of place.
That finally made him look up. A man had taken one of the empty stools at the counter.
Broad shoulders.
Dark red suit.
Perfect posture.
Everything about him suggested money. Not the loud kind that needed to prove itself.
The quiet kind.
The kind that never checked price tags. Which only made his presence here stranger. This wasn’t the sort of place people like him usually visited. Will caught himself staring and quickly looked away. Then, remembering he was technically being paid to be polite, he put on one of his practiced customer-service smiles.
“Good evening. What can I get you?”
The man didn’t answer immediately. Instead, his gaze settled on Will. The silence stretched just long enough to become uncomfortable.
Then a small smile appeared.
“Good evening.”
His voice was calm.
Cultured.
The sort of voice that sounded expensive too.
“Whatever the bartender recommends.”
Will immediately disliked that answer. Not because it was unreasonable. Because it meant he now had to think.
“You trust strangers that easily?”
A flicker of amusement appeared in the man’s eyes.
“Not usually.”
“Good.”
Will reached for a glass.
“That would’ve been concerning.”
The man’s smile widened slightly. Will poured the drink and placed it in front of him. The stranger studied the amber liquid for a moment before taking a sip. Apparently satisfied, he set the glass down.
“Not bad.”
“High praise.”
“It was.”
Will snorted quietly and continued drying another glass. For a few moments, neither spoke. The man seemed surprisingly comfortable with silence.
Most customers weren’t.
Most customers felt compelled to fill every available moment with conversation. This one appeared perfectly content to simply observe. It should have been less irritating than it was.
“So,” Will said eventually, mostly because the silence had started feeling intentional, “what do you do?”
The man’s gaze shifted toward him.
“I’m a surgeon.”
Will paused.
Of all the answers he had expected, that had not been one of them.
“A surgeon?”
“Is that surprising?”
“A little.”
The man smiled faintly.
“You were expecting something else?”
Will glanced at the suit.
The watch.
The expensive shoes.
“A lawyer, maybe.”
That actually earned a soft laugh.
“I’ve been called worse.”
Will found himself smiling despite himself. The stranger took another sip of his drink.
“And you?”
“A student.”
“I gathered as much.”
Will narrowed his eyes but did not answer. For a brief moment, something amused flickered across the man’s face.
Then he glanced toward his watch.
“A shame.”
“Huh?”
“This is pleasant.”
Will almost dropped the glass he was holding. Nobody had ever described tending bar as pleasant.
The stranger continued as though he hadn’t said anything unusual.
“Unfortunately, I have an early meeting tomorrow.”
“Important?”
“Potentially.”
The answer was frustratingly vague. Will suspected that was intentional.
“What kind of meeting?”
A small smile appeared.
“The kind that tends to change people’s lives.”
Will stared at him. The stranger calmly took another sip of whisky. That was somehow an even stranger answer.
“You’re very dramatic for a surgeon.”
The man gave a soft, warm laugh.
“I’ve been told that before.”
Will dried another glass before glancing back at him.
“Can I ask you something?”
“You just did.”
Will rolled his eyes. The man smiled faintly into his drink.
“Go ahead.”
Will gestured vaguely around the room.
“What are you doing here?”
His eyebrow rose.
“Drinking.”
“Very funny.”
The smile widened slightly. Will continued.
“This place is mostly students. People our age come here because it’s cheap. People your age usually drink somewhere nicer.”
“My age?”
The amusement in the man’s voice immediately made Will regret his choice of words.
“You know what I mean.”
“Do I?”
“You look like someone who owns a wine cellar.”
“That is a surprisingly specific accusation.”
“So I’m right?”
“You are.”
Will pointed at him triumphantly.
“I knew it.”
The man swirled the whisky in his glass. For a moment he considered the amber liquid before him.
Then:
“I enjoy observing people.”
Will immediately frowned.
“That sounds concerning.”
“It shouldn’t.”
“But it is.”
Another soft laugh.
“Interesting conversations can happen anywhere. They are not exclusive to expensive restaurants and private clubs.”
Will sighed at that.
“In my experience, conversations are boring.”
The man raised his brow.
“Are they?”
Will set the glass aside and slowly nodded.
“Most people just like hearing themselves talk.”
That earned him a thoughtful look.
“And you don’t?”
“I prefer silence.”
The answer came without hesitation. Outside, that answer usually made people uncomfortable.
The man merely nodded.
“As do I.”
Will blinked. That wasn’t the reaction he had expected. Most people immediately launched into speeches about socializing and healthy communication.
Jack certainly would.
The stranger simply took another sip of whisky.
“You spend a great deal of time alone. I consider that can get a bit lonely. It might as well wear out your social skills.”
It wasn’t phrased as a question. Will narrowed his eyes.
“You psychoanalyze me?”
The man’s smile returned.
“I would not call it that.”
“You sound like a shrink.”
The stranger's lips twitched in amusment.
“I might have been one in my past life.”
Will groaned dramatically. The stranger looked entirely too pleased with himself. For a brief moment, neither spoke. Then the man glanced around the crowded bar.
“Most people come here to avoid being alone,” he said quietly.
Will followed his gaze.
“And you?”
The man’s eyes returned to him. A faint smile touched his lips.
“As I mentioned before, I’m here for the right conversation.”
For some reason, that answer made Will suspicious.
“Conversations with drunk and young people?” he asked.
A faint smile appeared on the man’s lips.
“Perhaps just with young, bright, and occasionally troublesome ones.”
The man took another sip of his drink, his gaze lingering on Will for a moment longer than necessary. There was something undeniably interesting about this man.
Will cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck.
“Well, I’m afraid you’ve come to the wrong place.”
The stranger studied him for a moment. Long enough to make Will wonder if he was about to say something clever. Instead, he finished the last of his whisky and rose from his seat.
“I believe I am exactly where I intended to be.”
His eyes briefly dropped to the nametag pinned to his shirt.
“Will.“
The stranger reached into his wallet and placed several bills onto the counter.
Will immediately frowned.
“You know that’s too much, right?”
“Consider it compensation.”
“For what?”
Another small smile.
“The conversation.”
Before Will could come up with a response to that, the man stepped away from the bar.
Then he paused.
Just for a moment.
“I hope our paths cross again, Will.”
A moment later, he disappeared into the crowd and was gone. Will stared after him for several seconds. Then he looked down at the money.
“Weirdo.”
And somehow, he had the distinct feeling this would not be the last time he saw him.
***
By the time Will finally left the bar, he was exhausted. The streets were quieter now, illuminated by scattered streetlights and the occasional passing car. Most students were either asleep or still making poor decisions somewhere downtown.
Will wanted no part of either option.
The walk to his apartment took less than fifteen minutes. As he approached the building, something beside his door immediately caught his attention.
Flowers.
A small bouquet rested neatly against the wall.
White lilies.
Fresh.
Carefully arranged.
Will stopped. For a moment, he stared at them.
Then he sighed.
“Seriously?”
Attached to the ribbon was a small card. He already knew what he would find before turning it over.
Still, he read it.
I saw you reading beneath the oak tree today.
You looked so beautiful.
No signature.
There never was.
Will rubbed a hand across his face.
The tree.
Of course.
The one where he and Beverly usually spent their lunch breaks. The person hadn’t merely known where he lived. They had known where he spent his day.
A normal person probably would have found that alarming.
Will mostly found it annoying.
“Weird fucker.”
He looked around the hallway.
Nobody.
Nothing.
Just silence.
After a moment, he picked up the flowers and unlocked his apartment. The second the door opened, Winston came charging toward him. The dog’s tail immediately started wagging.
“At least you’re normal.”
Winston disagreed by nearly knocking him over. Will laughed and set the bouquet on the kitchen counter before scratching behind the dog’s ears.
“Don’t get any ideas.”
The flowers stayed. Mostly because throwing them away felt like admitting they bothered him.
And they didn’t.
Not really.
At least, that’s what he told himself. Will dropped his bag beside the couch and made his way to the bathroom. After a quick shower and the world’s most pathetic attempt at dinner, Will collapsed onto the couch.
He intended to rest for five minutes.
Maybe ten.
The next thing he knew, someone was knocking on his door.
Will groaned.
Sunlight streamed through the window.
Morning.
Wonderful.
The knocking came again. More insistent this time. Beside him, Winston lifted his head and let out an annoyed huff.
“Yeah, I feel the same way.”
Dragging himself upright, Will stumbled toward the door. Whoever was outside was about to become his least favorite person.
He unlocked it.
Opened it.
And immediately froze.
Standing in the hallway was the man from the bar.
Dark red suit.
Perfect posture.
Calm expression.
For several long seconds neither spoke. Then the stranger smiled.
“Good morning.”
Will blinked.
“What?”
The smile widened almost imperceptibly.
“My name is Dr. Hannibal Lecter.”
Something about the introduction felt dangerous. Will wasn’t sure why.
Then the next sentence arrived.
“I’ll be serving as your new bodyguard.”
Silence.
Complete.
Absolute.
Somewhere behind him, Winston chose that exact moment to bark.
Will stared.
The man smiled politely. And for the first time in his life, Will genuinely considered slamming the door in someone’s face.