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Vengeance Isn't Always Sweet	By : eros_thanatos Category: G through L > Hannibal Views: 1376 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Hannibal or any of the characters. I don't make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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The vast room seemed even larger in its emptiness, a seemingly endless stretch of unoccupied barred cubicles. Except for the one containing Will Graham. He was abuzz with nerves. His body, concealed in the dark hospital jumpsuit, still bore the marks and delicious soreness from fucking his psychiatrist, and he was lightheaded. He felt like a balloon about to come untethered and float away. When his guest, Dr. Hannibal Lecter, entered the room, Will stood up straighter and held onto the bars of his cage to steady himself.
   “You asked to see me, Will.” Hannibal said, his rich, cultured voice with its slight accent thrilling Will, as always.
   “Yes. Thank you for coming.”
Hannibal approached his cage, crossing the line meant to keep distance between patients and visitors. Hannibal stopped a few feet short of Will's cage. He stood very still, his nostrils flaring slightly, head canted at a slight angle. Will's heart began to hammer against his breastbone. He tightened his grip on the bars.
“You could have showered before meeting with me, Will. That's very rude of you.” Hannibal's tone was light, his face carefully neutral, but Will could hear the tension in his voice, could see the hard set of his jaw,the darkness in his amber brown eyes. Hannibal looked beautiful when he was angry, and terrifying. Go on, ask me you bastard. Will didn't want to say anything about his tryst, not until Hannibal brought it up. He stared at Hannibal, lifting an eyebrow at him.
   Hannibal stepped closer. Will could touch the velvet collar of his Burberry coat if he wanted to. The man looked elegant as ever, his blond hair gelled meticulously, a burgundy shirt and black vest under his long gray coat complementing his skin. Hannibal leaned in closer still, almost pressing his face against the bars of Will's cage, and now Will could detect the doctor's scent, something piney and faintly spicy that evoked images of deep forest. Hannibal inhaled deeply, that habit of smelling Will that always disconcerted and excited him.
Will kept his mouth resolutely shut. Hannibal narrowed his eyes at him. The faint jump of muscles along his jaw and the steely set of his shoulders told Will that Hannibal was fighting an inner battle. At last, he gave in and whispered, “who have you been fucking, Will?”
   A bolt of triumph shot through Will and he lifted his chin defiantly. “Chilton,” he said with a little shrug. “You know, he’s a surprisingly good lay. Great cock.”
Hannibal frowned. “Frankly Will, I'm more insulted by your choice of partners than your infidelity. Chilton. Really? That buffoon doesn't deserve to fumble with your mind, let alone touch you.”
Will shrugged again. “There aren't many other options around here, Hannibal” he pointed out drily. “And he is my doctor. He does take very good care of me, in my unstable state.”
  Hannibal scoffed. “Is this the only reason you asked to speak with me, then, Will? To rub your fling in my face?” Hannibal took a step back, beginning to pivot on his heel, as if to leave.
“Wait! Don't leave, Hannibal” Will said, carefully modulating his voice to sound placating and calm, not to betray his desperation. Lecter stepped close again, wearing a patient expression.
   “You were supposed to be my lifeline.” Will said softly, “you were supposed to anchor me to reality, not let me get lost in the darkness. I was counting on you.” He paused for a moment, struggling to keep his emotions in check. “Instead, you betrayed my trust in the worst possible ways, Hannibal. You manipulated me, made me question my sanity--my own identity. You killed those girls, Hannibal! Abigail! Cassie. Marissa. Georgia. And Doctor Sutcliffe. Thanks to your expert care, everyone thinks I’m a psychotic murderer. And you abandoned me here.”
   Clutching his bars, Will breathed deeply, fighting to choke back tears. Hannibal was watching him with the removed curiosity of an ornithologist studying a bird with a broken wing. Against his own judgement, Will lobbed a final accusation at Lecter. “You made me fall in love with you.” he said, bitterly. Hannibal reached to grasp his hand through the bars, but Will jerked back as far as he could, his back flush against the other wall of the narrow cubicle.
   “Oh, Will,” Hannibal said softly, “My only aim is to awaken you to your true nature. You’re more like me than you think. You need to see that in yourself, to become the hunter you were born to be.”
   Will shook his head. “You're deranged, Hannibal. You hide it so well. You have everyone eating from your palm. But I'm not like you. I'm nothing like you.”
   Hannibal studied Will's face carefully. “Come with me, Will.” He breathed, in the barest whisper. “I could find a way to get you out of this place. We could disappear before Jack, or any of them, could trace us. Come with me.” He held out his hand.
  Will wanted desperately to take it, to find solace once again in Hannibal’s arms, in his bed. To be free again. But he couldn’t forgive Hannibal for what he had done. And he couldn’t become what Hannibal needed him to be. “I’m sorry,” he said, “You know I can’t. This will have to be goodbye, Hannibal.”
  Hannibal seized his hand, kissed his palm through the bars. He stroked Will’s face, and Will let his eyes fall closed, leaning into the touch. When he opened them again, they were swimming with tears.
  “We shall see each other again, Will.” Hannibal said, then turned to go.
   When the sound of his footsteps had completely faded away, Will slumped to the ground and buried his head in his arms.
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Vengeance Isn't Always Sweet