~ CHAPTER VIII ~

If any part of Will had been worried that things would feel awkward after his conversation with Hannibal, it was immediately assuaged. In fact, it felt as if nothing at all had changed between them. Will only had to puzzle it over for a moment before the realization hit him: Hannibal's behavior had barely shifted since their soulmate bond had made itself known. Granted, Will had been unconscious for much of the time after the initial discovery...but that didn't change much of anything. The more he thought about it, the more he came up with examples of how Hannibal had acted similarly towards him before that fateful night. Hell, Hannibal had brought him homemade breakfast after their very first meeting, which had ended in Will storming out of Jack's office. It was more than a little odd. But trying to puzzle it out made Will's head spin, so he settled on accepting it for what it was. He could always analyze it more deeply at a later date.

In the meantime, Will and Hannibal carried on like usual. Hannibal stopped by Will's hospital room at least once a day, usually after finishing up with his last appointment, and brought him dinner and company. Then he would stay for a couple of hours before kissing Will's hand and bidding him good night. Their old-fashioned courtship may have felt odd to some people, but Will secretly enjoyed it. In fact, he was so used to their settled routine that when someone knocked on his hospital room door one day around noontime, the only thing that he could think was that it must be Hannibal and something must be wrong. Will looked up immediately, ready for the worst. But it was only Beverly, leaning against the door frame and wearing her usual maroon leather jacket and friendly smirk.

"Katz," said Will, feeling disappointed and relieved at the same time. "What brings you here?"

Beverly meandered her way over to his hospital bed. "Officially, I'm here with a message from Jack. He wants you on the Ripper case as soon as you're discharged from the hospital."

Will grunted and rubbed his hand over his beard, which was getting unruly from lack of any trimming or shaving. Of course Jack did. Then: "Unofficially?"

Beverly smirked. "Unofficially...well, how's it going with you and Dr. Lecter?" She turned and gave the fancy vase of flowers on Will's bedside table an appraising look. "If the flowers are anything to go by, I'd say pretty good."

The bouquet had been there for several days, so Will had almost forgotten that it existed. He turned to it now. The flowers looked almost completely pristine. Leave it to Hannibal to buy a bouquet that lasted far longer than a normal one. He probably had enough money to buy flowers that were specially genetically modified to last longer after being cut and put into a vase. Will suppressed a snort at the idea.

"Yeah, uh, things have been good," said Will. "Great, actually. You were right."

Beverly grinned triumphantly. "I often am." She approached the flowers and touched one of them, before asking, "Do you know what any of them are?" It was a slightly abrupt change in topic, considering how nosy she had been about his relationship with Hannibal the last time, but Will wasn't going to question being given a way out.

"I'm not a horticulturist," he said wryly, "but I do recognize the roses."

Beverly snorted goodnaturedly.

"I also recognize the irises, and those are mums." Will pointed at each in turn. "The sprigs are lavender, and those are marigolds."

"I thought you said you didn't know much about flowers?"

Will shrugged. "I have a good memory. Once I've learned something, it tends to stick."

"Well, you're about to learn much more," Beverly said, pulling a chair up to Will's bed so she could talk to him and examine the bouquet at the same time. Will barely had time to raise an eyebrow at her statement before she added, "We think that the flowers left with the last Ripper kill may have hidden meanings that could help us catch this sonuvabitch." She turned and looked at Will with a critical yet curious eye. "Are you familiar with the Victorian language of flowers?"

Not too long after, Beverly left him with a book on flower and plant symbolism and a list of everything that had been placed in the third and final Ripper body. Will was torn between feeling grateful that he had something to occupy his time now and a bit resentful that after weeks of having the Ripper's most recent kills, the forensics team hadn't looked into it yet. It was difficult to remind himself that the reason why they had left the flower symbolism for him was likely because he would have a better idea of what the Ripper might be trying to say than anyone else. Still, how fucking hard could it really be?

Then Will opened the book and found that it was covered in notes scribbled all throughout the margins, adding to the printed meanings with what the writer — Beverly, maybe? — had found online and in other books. There were also loose sheets of paper stuffed near the back with information on flowers and plants that weren't in the book.

Ah. Of course the symbolism was more complicated than just one-to-one associations. He really should have been expecting that. Will sighed and got to work.

Will had a tendency, even before his experience with encephalitis, to lose time when he was focused on something. Today was no exception. He hadn't realized how long he had been at his analysis until he got up to use the bathroom and saw that the sun had moved more than halfway across the sky and changed the direction of all the shadows in the room. As soon as he washed his hands, he sat down with his list and looked it over:

Anemone, white, anemone coronaria — anemones: anticipation, protection, fragility, loss, grief, ill omen, death; white anemones: sincerity; connected to Aphrodite; used for weddings and funerals

Begonia, white, semperflorens begonias — begonias: gratitude, individuality, peace, connection, caution, warning, dark thoughts; white begonias: spirituality

Christmas rose, helleborus niger — serenity, tranquility, peace, healing, good fortune, scandal, anxiety; connected to Christianity; poisonous, but used for traditional medicinal purposes

Daffodil, white, narcissus poeticus — daffodils: fertility, good fortune, wealth, memory, vanity, death, doom, misfortune, selfishness, bad luck; white daffodils: transformation, hope; connected to Narcissus, Persephone; poisonous, but used for traditional medicinal purposes

Hyacinth, white, hyacinthus orientalis — hyacinths: recreation, love, sincerity, jealousy, sorrow; white hyacinths: loveliness, prayer, hope; connected to Hyacinthus, Apollo; poisonous

Lily of the valley, convallaria majalis — the return of happiness, rebirth, humility, purity, chastity, delicacy, kindness, serenity, good luck, prosperity, springtime, loss, grief, tears; connected to Maia, Apollo, Ostara, the Virgin Mary, Christ; used for weddings and funerals; poisonous

Lisianthus, eustoma grandiflorum — gratitude, devotion, lifelong bond; white is used for weddings

Moonflower, datura innoxia — power, growth in dark times, intuition, freedom, intoxication, deceitful charms; connected to Buddhism, Hinduism, the Oracle at Delphi, indigenous American cultures; poisonous, but used for traditional medicinal and religious purposes

Petunia, white, petunia axillaris — petunias: comfortableness, your presence suits me, desire, hope, anger, resentment; white petunias: trust, truth, dignity; thought to ward off evil or bad spirits

Tulip, white, tulipa gesneriana — tulips: deep or perfect love, rebirth, charity; white tulips: forgiveness, apologies, respect, purity, honor, worthiness

Wisteria, white, wisteria floribunda — longevity, wisdom, love, fertility, beauty, creativity, immortality, grace, honor, patience, endurance, I cling to thee, devotion, good luck; connected to feng shui, Jodo Shinshu Shin Buddhism; white is used for weddings

Yarrow, white, achillea millefolium — healing, protection, good luck, inspiration, endurance; connected to Achilles, I Ching divination; used for traditional medicinal purposes

Will slipped the list into the book and put it on the side table. Then he rubbed his temples; he was developing a killer headache. The doctors had said he could continue to experience symptoms of encephalitis as he recovered, but damn if he wasn't tired of the head pain and random bouts of shivers. Will glanced at the bouquet from Hannibal, its orange and purple blossoms like his own personal burst of sunshine and shadow in an otherwise drab hospital room. Part of him wanted to reopen the flower symbolism book and look at what his flowers might mean. The other, larger part of him was too exhausted to do anything other than lay down and rest his weary mind.

The larger part of him won out, as Will woke up to Hannibal knocking on his hospital room door several hours later. Hannibal came in and followed his usual routine, setting his satchel down and unpacking dinner onto the rolling dinner tray. They ate in relative silence (the meal was pretty simple for Hannibal, just filet mignon with sautéed potatoes, mushrooms, and green beans), which Will appreciated, since his head still hurt. Only after they were done eating and the empty containers had been packed away in the satchel did Hannibal glance at the book on the table and ask lightly, "Curious about your bouquet?"

"It's for the Ripper case." Will rubbed his eyes and sighed.

"Ah."

Will waved his hand at the book with the list tucked inside of it like a bookmark. "The flowers are all white."

It was a non sequitur, but Hannibal picked up on what he meant immediately. He sat down next to Will's bed and leaned forward, hands clasped. "White is often a symbol of purity and innocence."

Will snorted. "The Ripper has no pretenses about valuing innocence. Never has."

"Perhaps instead he values knowledge, even with all the ugliness that comes with it."

Will frowned. That didn't sound quite right, either, but he couldn't place why. Rather than correct him, however, he said, "The proverbial snake in the garden?"

"Do you feel tempted, Will?"

"I feel like I want to get out of this place." Will knew that his tone of voice had gone sharp, but Hannibal merely leaned back, the corner of his mouth quirking up.

"The doctor says you can be discharged in a couple days," Hannibal said pleasantly, seeming unfazed by Will's prickliness.

Will rubbed his eyes again. "Out of the frying pan and into the fire," he said wryly, and then flopped back on the bed. "I don't really want to talk about the case," he added to the ceiling.

"We can talk about whatever you want, Will. Even if that is nothing at all."

"I miss my dogs. How would you be willing to accommodate them?"

It was a bold question that Will didn't realize would leave his mouth until it did. He kept his eyes closed and his hands folded over his chest, pretending to be much less interested in the response than he really was, even as his heart pounded uncomfortably under his hands and his palms became sweaty. He heard a contemplative noise from Hannibal and the sound of him shifting in his chair. Then, after a moment:

"I am willing do whatever I can do to take care of them to your satisfaction. I'm sure I could dog-proof a sufficient number of rooms in my house for them. I don't have a large backyard, but leashed walks through the city may be an adequate substitution in a pinch. I know very little about dog nutrition or hygiene, but I am willing to learn. And if you would prefer to stay in Wolf Trap, or to move elsewhere, I'm capable of being flexible…"

As Hannibal talked, slowly and carefully, sounding almost apprehensive about his ability to please him, Will felt a strange duality of sensation in chest, both relief and...affection? Christ, it was affection. Will couldn't remember the last time he had felt affection of this magnitude for anyone except his dogs, but here he was, listening to Hannibal discuss how he would accommodate Will's frankly ridiculous number of strays and feeling overwhelmed with gratitude.

When Hannibal finished talking, Will opened his eyes and turned his head to look at him. "You would do all of that for me?" he whispered.

Hannibal looked at him for a moment, then reached out and took his hand. "There is little I wouldn't do for you, I'm finding," he said, his voice soft and vulnerable.

And goddamnit, Will was already so far gone, it wasn't even funny. What was he supposed to do about that?