I was going to just upload one more chapter, but it was getting too long without posting I decided to stick with the same amount of chapters I originally planned. I'm sorry for not posting sooner, but I've been just a tad too stressed at school. Hopefully this has been amended and I'm going to be back on track with my stories (as disarrayed as it was to begin with).
Hannibal got to the safe house before any of his lackeys, but Crawford was long gone with his William. Moving around the perimeter, he found Paul unconscious outside the front door, blood dripping from his head. Seeing he was in no dire need of attention, Hannibal turned his attention to inside the house. His senses were overwhelmed by the smell of blood, Will, and Crawford. He took in the disheveled remains of the kitchen and living room, pausing at the body of Alex. The Beta held Will's phone, his other outstretched for Will's discarded gun. Hannibal took a moment to feel regret for the fallen guard before returning to his inspection.
As he neared the stairs, he caught the smell of an unknown Beta, and he snarled. He found the intruder outside of Will's room, but he was alive. He had his eyes closed, hands clutching tightly at his wounds. Hannibal took in the situation, taking in the damage on both the Beta and the door. A small smile came forth when he saw which direction the bullets had come through the door, answering the state of the Beta. However, the smile did not stay as the scent of Crawford filled his nose once more. He looked down at the unaware Beta, before walking forward and stepping firmly on his stomach. The Beta gasped, eyes flinging open.
"It appears William is getting rusty with his aiming skills. Then again, he never liked to kill, did he?" Hannibal pressed harder, the intruder letting out a gutted croak before passing out. "How unfortunate for you."
Will woke, his vision blurry. He groaned, rubbing his face into his pillow. His stomach rumbled and he wondered if Hannibal was making breakfast. He suddenly paused his movements, sniffing around him. This wasn't his home. It didn't smell anything like him or Hannibal. This wasn't even the safe house in Wolftrap, which would definitely smell like him.
Jolting up, Will tried to get out of bed when his head began to hurt. He clutched at it uselessly, memories of what happened coming back to him. There was gun fire and blood and... Crawford!
Disregarding the pain in his head, Will stumbled around the room, trying to find a door or a window. It was completely black, and Will guessed the room was windowless. Feeling around the walls, he bumped into something near the bed. He grasped around and processed it was a desk with a lamp. Will sighed with relief when he turned the lamp on, the orange light momentarily blinding him. He didn't mind, basking in the artificial light. When he could finally see, he fixed his attention on the door at the far side of the room. Without thinking, Will grasped the handle and pulled.
It wouldn't budge.
Panic began to sink in as he tried again. And again. And again. But the door wouldn't open.
A whimper escaped as Will gave one last pull before falling to his knees. He couldn't do it. He couldn't escape. It was his fault Alex was dead and Hannibal must be worried sick. What if because of this he slips? What if he's not careful? Crawford could use him as bait to draw the Alpha into a trap. He could be arrested, or worse, he could be killed.
Will's vision began to warp and blacken, images of Hannibal's dead body rising behind closed eyes. He would be alone. So alone. On top of that, he too would be arrested for aiding a notorious killer. Locked away behind bars. And when the time came, his little Mischa would be taken away from him. His last reminder of Hannibal.
Tears swelled and streamed down his face, sobs pouring through his lips. Alone. He didn't want to be alone. He wouldn't survive without Hannibal or Mishca. His mind spiraled even more, the black becoming stained in red as bodies began to fill his mind, his old visions combing with the new. He couldn't handle this!
A small tap broke through Will's panic attack, bringing his mind out of the red haze. As his focus came back to the real world he felt it again, but this time he was able to pin point the cause.
Laying his hands on his stomach, Will gently rubbed the area Mischa kicked, waiting to see if she'd do it again. When there was a repeat kick, Will sighed.
"I'm sorry, darling, but papa is unable to feed you right now. If you're patient maybe daddy will come with some food, okay?"
For his trouble, the unborn child kicked again.
Will chucked, giving his belly one last rub before picking himself off the floor. Falling into despair would not solve anything. If he couldn't keep it together for himself, then he'd do it for his child. He had to remain calm, think positive thoughts. If he couldn't get out, then he'd wait. Crawford wouldn't leave him to rot, not when he had valuable information. Hostages were kept safe as long as they were useful.
Will also didn't see Crawford as the sort of person to kill pregnant Omegas, even if they were connected to the Chesapeake Mafia. His current condition kept him safe for at least a few more months, give or take. But how much did Crawford know? This seemed extreme if all he wanted was information, so he must know more.
Will sighed and paced the room, hands massaging his belly as he tried to calm his way ward thoughts. He turned away from his mind, keeping himself grounded in the present as he looked around the room. The walls were white, currently bathed in the orange light of the lamp. The tile floor was also white and cold against his bare feet. The only items to grace the room were a bed, a desk, and a lamp, but there was nothing in the drawers or under the bed. Will turned back to the door, noting it was just as white as the rest of the room. Upon further inspection, he saw that it had two sliding windows: one up top and one at the bottom. He figured it was so his captor could look in and give him food. There was no way to open them from inside.
Will continued to stare at the door before turning and crawling back into the bed. There was nothing he could do now. He just had to wait for either Crawford to come and talk, or for Hannibal to rescue him.
His stomach rumbled, and he fought back the sense of unease when he felt a kick again.
Paul's body hurt. It took him a moment for reality to come to him, remembering the ambush and the pain running through him before he blacked out. Gasping, he tried to sit up, but his head protested harshly.
"Don't try to move, Mr. Caser," a voice called to him and hands pushed him back down. "You are in no condition to move."
Paul opened his eyes and saw Dr. Du Maurier standing over him. He tried to speak, but he began to cough instead. Dr. Du Maurier moved around the bed, checking vitals on the monitors before handing him a plastic cup with water. He accepted the cup, but found he couldn't hold onto it with his shaking hands. The Alpha helped him and soon the injured Beta downed the entire cup.
"You are in Location 34B," Dr. Du Maurier continued, giving him another drink. "It has been almost twelve hours since we found you."
"Please." Paul croaked as Dr. Du Maurier put the cup on the night stand. "Please, where is Mr. Graham? Where is Alex?" He cried out softly when he saw the look on her face, bringing a hand up to rub at his face. "Please no, tell me they're not dead."
"Unfortunately, Mr. Reese did not make it. However, we don't know about Mr. Graham," Dr. Du Maurier pacified. "Mr. Graham is missing. Tell me, what happened at the safe house?"
The Alpha's voice was soothing the the frayed nerves of the Beta, but Paul couldn't calm down. Tears streaked down his face and he began to whine softly.
"Mr. Caser, I know this is hard, but you need to focus," the Alpha ordered, dropping her pheromones enough to get the Beta to listen to her. "What happened at the safe house?"
"I...I don't know. It was later in the evening, maybe six or seven o' clock. Alex had just come back from town, and Mr. Graham was in the kitchen waiting by the window. I went out to smoke, and...I heard a noise..." he recalled, furrowing his brows. "I thought it was Mr. Graham, but it didn't smell like him. When I turned around, a man had hit me in the head with something. Maybe the back of a gun. That was the last thing I saw or remember." Paul rubbed his head, pain blooming all around his forehead.
Dr. Du Maurier nodded before turning away from the Beta, glancing up at the camera hidden in the corner of the room. She waited a moment before grabbing a file from her bag and placing an assortment of pictures in front of Paul.
"We believe one of these men is responsible for Mr. Graham's kidnapping. I need you to point out which man attacked you."
Paul looked up at her before looking at the pictures. He stared at them for a long time, and Bedelia feared he had not gotten a clear look at the attacker.
Or, that Mr. Caser had a hand in Mr. Graham's kidnapping.
Finally, Paul hesitantly pointed at the third picture. "Him, I think. He looks familiar."
"You think? You need to be sure." Bedelia said, her tone cold. Paul flinched before nodding.
"Yes, it's him. I caught a glimpse, but I'm sure." There was a pause before he added. "But I've seen his face somewhere else..." The Beta flinched as the pain in his head became unbearable, laying down once more. Bedelia checked over his vitals one last time before gathering her things and leaving him to rest.
She didn't waste time and went straight to Hannibal's office. The man was still watching the feed from the camera in the Beta's room, his face unreadable. Bedelia waited to be addressed before speaking.
"I don't believe he's a traitor, sir," She said as she placed the files on the the desk. "From past experience and his reaction to the attack I see him as a victim."
"But he still allowed himself to be attacked." Hannibal reminded, his voice cold. "I do not tolerate slackers, especially ones who are supposed to be protecting my mate."
Bedelia didn't flinch at Hannibal's words, instead trying at a different approach. "Once we get William back do you really want to tell him you killed someone he considers a friend, especially after he finds out what happened to Mr. Reese."
Hannibal's eyes narrowed, but it was the only sign of his anger Bedelia could see from him. He was remarkably calm, which put everybody on edge.
She tried again. "You heard him point out the intruder from the pictures. If he were a traitor he would have picked a different one."
Hannibal remained silent, once more watching the feed. The Beta was now curled in the bed, his body shaking and faint sobbing could be heard. He continued to watch before turning the screen off. It was all Bedelia had to assure her the Alpha no longer had thoughts to get rid of the Beta. For now.
Hannibal stood from his chair and picked up the file, pulling out the picture of the intruder.
"He does look familiar, doesn't he?" he said slowly. He handed it over to Bedelia and ordered, "I want the names of all the officers who work Baltimore from the time William was an officer to now. Let me know what you find as soon as you do."
Bedelia nodded and headed out the door. She paused, and turned back to her superior.
"What shall we do with the intruder, sir? He still hasn't woken."
Hannibal was quiet before a smile slowly formed.
"Let me handle it." He answered, and Bedelia couldn't suppress the shiver.
Will didn't sleep; he couldn't get comfortable enough. The springs in the mattress dug into his back every time he moved, and the blankets weren't warm enough. However, it was the smell that drove him crazy. Nothing smelled like him. It reminded him of the first night he slept at his new home with Hannibal. While his mate's scent soothed him enough to help him sleep, he was too uncomfortable with the idea. The next day, when Hannibal had gone out to work, Will proceeded to get his scent onto everything the Alpha owned. Clothes, bedding, furniture, curtains. Anything and everything. Except the kitchen. He knew that room was meant only for Hannibal.
The thought of Hannibal and his cooking made Will's stomach gurgle. Mishca had settled down and wasn't moving as much, but Will knew she would be squirming away soon enough. He sighed and tried to find a soft spot when he heard something faint beyond the door. He froze, straining his ears. The shuffling grew closer and closer, but didn't come close to the door. Will watched the door and remained still. When the noises didn't continue he slowly sat up. He closed his eyes and sniffed, catching the whiff of food and Crawford.
Will was torn between growling or staying quiet, but he decided on the latter. Easing his feet onto the cold floor, Will stood and walked over to the door. The person on the other side, whom Will assumed to be Crawford, didn't move. Will waited a few moments before raising his hand and knocked three times.
There was no response.
He did it again, harder this time, but the other side was quiet.
"Hello?" Will called out tentatively. "Hello? Anyone there?"
His stomach rumbled, followed by a kick. Will gritted his teeth in agitation before calming himself. "I never would have though you would resort to kidnapping, Special Agent Crawford. What would your superiors think?"
This produced a reaction. The person on the other side of the door moved forward, but instead of opening the door the sliding panel at the bottom opened, allowing a tray of food to enter. Before Will could react, a voice growled, "Best you eat it all, for your sake. You're no good to be dead."
Will growled back, but the Alpha was already gone. Will eyed the tray of food. He was surprised to see it filled with similar foods Hannibal would feed him. It had everything recommended to give a pregnant Omega. Will wasn't sure if he should feel reassured that Crawford was making sure he stayed healthy, or intimidated by the thought of Crawford intending to keep him until he was of no further use.
Will sighed. It was no good to think about it now. His stomach ached for food, and it wasn't good for Mishca. With one more growl, Will picked up the tray and returned to his spot on the bed. The food tasted terrible, but he ended up eating it all. However, he was still not satisfied. He licked his fingers before setting the tray on the desk and curling up on the bed once more. There was no way he was going to give Crawford the satisfaction of hearing him beg for food. He wouldn't stoop so low. He clasped his belly gently, feeling Mischa move and kick, and fell into a light doze.
Hannibal walked slowly around the chair, his "guest" bound and gagged. He flipped through the papers Bedelia had given him, and when he was finished he stopped in front of the man.
"Sam Patterson. Age 34, born and raised in Baltimore to a Beta father and mother, and an only child. Joined the Baltimore police force seven years ago and currently employed. Also, unmated and no current partners. Am I forgetting anything?"
But Patterson couldn't reply. His eyes were wide open, staring unblinkingly at the Chesapeake Ripper. He was heavily shaking, his breathing uneven. Hannibal didn't look up from the file and continued to leaf through the file once more, lingering on pages before moving onto the next one. Patterson, on the other hand, had not taken his eyes off of Hannibal.
Finally, Hannibal put the file down and crossed his arms, his face blank as he stared at the Beta. Patterson flinched at the eye contact, but did not look away. It was as if he was unable to.
"I hope your wounds aren't bothering you too much," Hannibal said casually. "I know how much William hates to kill, but I believe he was trying. I can't mock his shooting abilities, for it is hard to aim through a door." The Alpha moved from his spot against the wall and moved behind Patterson's chair to a small table covered in cloth. Patterson tried to keep Hannibal within his sight, but was unable to turn his head or move without his wounds flaring up.
"I will tell you," Hannibal continued. "he would have killed you quickly. He's not one to prolong pain or suffering. He is an Omega after all. However, I'm surprised he didn't put a bullet in your head when he left the room." he tisked. The sound of clinking could be heard, followed by a scrape of metal. Hannibal stepped back into the Beta's vision, and Patterson's eyes widened even more at the sight of the knife in the Alpha's hands.
"I, on the other hand, like to prolong the experience, but you already know that, don't you?" Hannibal's eyes hardened and finally Patterson began to try and escape from his chair. The pain from the bullet wounds hampered his efforts, causing him to cry out behind his gag. Hannibal put a stop to his useless struggle by grasping the man's hair and pulling his head back, exposing his neck. The hand holding the knife inched closer to his throat, halting all movement. The Beta shook as Hannibal raised the knife to cut away the gag. With Patterson's mouth free, Hannibal laid the knife against his face.
"Now, tell me, where is my Will."
Will's eyes shot open when he heard the creak from the door. He sat up, watching as Crawford entered with a tray of food in his hands. He closed the door, his eyes fixed on Will. The Alpha lowered his guards, his pheromones flooding the small room. Will growled and moved closer to the corner of his bed. He didn't like how Crawford was caging him in, making it so he could only be in one spot. The bed finally smelled like him, and he wasn't going to let it be sullied by the Alpha's stench.
Crawford gave him one more look before ignoring him. He moved over to the desk, picking up the empty tray and replacing it with the new one. Will hoped it wasn't obvious he was hungry, his nose taking in the smell. He was also hoping Crawford was going to walk out the door and leave him to his meal, but he was in no such luck. The Alpha sat at the edge of the desk, and he moved the tray of food in Will's direction.
"What time is it?" Will asked, unsure if Crawford was going to answer him or not.
"It's morning." Crawford answered back, keeping his answers vague. Will decided he couldn't have been knocked out for two days, and thus it must have been the morning after he was kidnapped.
"Where am I?" Will knew he wasn't going to get an answer, but he thought he could try anyway. He was rewarded with a somewhat amused look before Crawford became serious.
"I just want to talk." Crawford said, but Will heard the command behind it. He bit back a growl, and let out a huff.
"We did talk, Special Agent Crawford, back at the cafe. I told you everything you needed to know."
"But you failed to mention you are the mate of a killer." Crawford growled, but this time Will growled back.
"You only asked about my last case. I told you everything."
"No, you didn't," Crawford stood and Will feared he was going to come closer, but the Alpha began to pace the room. He stopped and pointed at Will, his voice grave. "You best start telling the truth, Graham, otherwise-"
"Otherwise what, Special Agent Crawford? Threaten me with violence? Threaten to take my mate away? You've already succeeded in separating us, so what then? Are you going to torture the information out? If I don't cooperate are you going to kill me? Kill a pregnant Omega? I'm sure you'll go far in your career if your superiors catch wind of what you're doing." Will snapped, a new side coming through as he bared his teeth. At the cafe, Will was cowed and frightened to be talking with Crawford, but not now. No, he was scared, but he would not go down without a fight. He was not some Omega that could be bossed around. He had others to look out for, and he failed to protect Alex and Paul. He would not fail in protecting Hannibal and Mischa.
Crawford was taken aback for a moment before he growled. Will was unfazed as he watched the man storm out of the room and slam the door. It was a small victory, but Will didn't feel triumphant. The more he thought about it, the more he wondered if he should have bended just a little. What harm could have come from revealing what actually happened the night of the fight between the Catgut gang and the Chesapeake Mafia? From what Will could gather, Crawford had gone rouge, or no one knew he was going through such extremes to get the Chesapeake Ripper. He could have bargained or made a deal of some sort with Crawford until the danger had cleared. Now, now he couldn't. Crawford wouldn't be in the mood to negotiate. He was angry, and anything Will tried to propose would be shot down.
No. Crawford wouldn't have negotiated anyway. No matter what Will did the Alpha would make sure he was the one victorious, with the Chesapeake Ripper destroyed one way or another.
Will dragged his hand through his hair, but his thought process didn't go far. The call of food became too strong and he edged toward the desk, and he picked through the food tentatively. He wished he could be with Hannibal, back home safe and sound. If it was truly morning like Crawford said, then Hannibal would be away at work while Will stayed at home. Before he became pregnant, Will was trying to find a teaching job after he left the force, but he couldn't find one with his record of mental lapses. He would have kept looking, but Hannibal convinced him it would be better for him and their child if he stayed home.
"I know you don't like it," Hannibal had said, curling his arms around the Omega. "But think about it: do you really want a stranger to look after our child while we are at work? He or she will become more attached to them then they are to us. You don't want that, do you?"
Will had known Hannibal was manipulating him, trying to coddle and hide him away, but he had been right. At the time, it had been almost a year without an episode, and Hannibal was looking out for his health. He put up a fight for a few more days before giving in. The Alpha promised when their child started to go to school he would help him find a job, but for now he needed not to worry about such things.
Will tried to smile at the memory, but his spirits were starting to wane. He had two worries right now, but they were out of his control. He needed to get out, to escape. As much as it pained him, he had to remove the thought of rescue. He knew Hannibal wouldn't stop until either Crawford was dead with Will safe, or if he was dead. Right now Will had to focus on the concept that he was alone with no help. He was trained for this, at one point. He would figure it out, and he would escape.
No matter what, he was going to be back with Hannibal.