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Title: Concerto
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: Hannibal Lecter/Will Graham
Fandom: Hannibal
Rating: PG-13
Author's Note: Sequel to "Serenade."
Disclaimer: This is entirely a product of my own imagination, and I make no profit from it. I do not own the lovely Hannibal Lecter or Will Graham, unfortunately, just borrowing them for a while. Please do not sue.


He didn't want to think about how their relationship had slowly wound down.

Will sighed softly, curling up under the covers of his bed. It was a Saturday morning, so he had no reason to get up, and he hadn't slept well the night before, anyway.

He just wanted to lie here and go back to sleep, to sink into a dreamless oblivion that would give his mind -- and his heart -- some measure of needed peace.

But even as he closed his eyes, Will knew that peace wasn't for him. He was doomed to think about Hannibal, to dream about him, and to mourn the lost relationship that could never come again. Every time he drifted off to sleep, memories overtook him, refusing to let him be.

If only he could go back to those days of happiness and innocence, when he had thought that his lover was the perfect man -- and he had been joyful for what felt like the first time in his life.

Those days were long gone now, the days when his love for Hannibal had seemed like a concerto that would never end, a beautiful piece of music that would play on indefinitely.

That concerto had been so beautiful, he told himself sadly.

Who would have ever believed that it could possibly come to an end? He hadn't; he had thought that it would play on and on, a never-ending song of love.

He had been a fool to believe that he was loved, that they would last. He should have realized from the start that there was something intrinsically wrong with Hannibal, that there was something skewered about his behavior, that there had been an imbalance in their emotions.

Oh, he didn't doubt that Hannibal had thought he loved Will. But Hannibal was a serial killer. He wasn't capable of feeling real love.

His kind of love was twisted, convoluted -- and deadly.

Hannibal couldn't love, even though he might try. Will only wished that he had sensed the discordance in the concerto of what he had thought was love.

How could he have been so blind not to recognize that discordance? But he didn't really have to ask himself why -- he knew the reasons, all of them.

Really, there was only reason. He had been in love, so deeply in love that he had been wearing blinders. He hadn't let himself look to one side or the other; he had only looked directly ahead of him, directly into that bright shining light of his love, the love that he had thought would last forever.

He hadn't wanted to see anything but what he'd thought was the truth, and that had been his downfall. He had refused to take his surroundings into consideration.

That was one of the first things any cop was taught -- to be aware of everything around them, of the shifts in emotion, of the general aura that surrounded any situation.

He hadn't let himself pay attention to that aura. He had deliberately ignored anything that seemed out of place, brushing it away as something that others were trying to put in front of him as an obstacle to get over. He had put it down to other people being jealous of what he had.

He hadn't let himself realize that those discordant notes had come from Hannibal himself, that the concerto had been slowly winding down to its inevitable close.

Hannibal had kept secrets from him, and though he had known it at the time, he hadn't wanted to let himself believe that his lover could hide a part of himself away.

He had been willfully blind, and that was his own fault.

He should have known better than to rush into what he thought was love without having both eyes wide open, without looking around to be sure that his heart was safe.

If he'd been wiser, he would have been sure to keep that heart protected, to not give it away before he was absolutely sure that it wouldn't be shattered into millions of tiny shards that he knew he would never be able to piece back together again. But he hadn't been wise. Not at all.

He had let himself rush in, let himself be blind to everything around him in that first rush of love, only paying attention to the beautiful concerto that had been playing in his mind, and in his heart.

That music had deafened him to everything else, to his own detriment.

Now, the man he loved was in a prison cell for the rest of his life. And Will had to live with the knowledge that he was the instrument of that imprisonment.

He would always feel guilty about that; the knowledge that he had been the one to put the man he loved behind bars would forever be a thorn in his side.

It didn't make him feel any better to know that he had done the right thing, that Hannibal was a danger to society. His love might have diminished, and he might feel unspeakable horror at the crimes that his former lover had committed. But that didn't assuage his own guilt.

And it certainly take away the sadness that he felt at losing the man he loved, at having that beautiful concerto come to an abrupt end and fade out of his life forever.

Their love song had come to an end because of his own moral compass, and even though he knew that it had been the right thing to do in the long run, that didn't make it hurt any less.

Will sighed again, pulling the covers closer over him.

Would he always feel like this, or would the guilt eventually fade away and become a dull ache instead of this throbbing, festering pain in his heart?

He didn't want this pain to go on. It was already unbearable, and Will had the definite feeling that it was only going to become worse with time. The more he thought about it, the more acute it would become. He shouldn't think about it, but he couldn't seem to stop himself.

The memory of their concerto, when it had been playing in his heart, would always haunt him. That sound would never go away, never leave him in peace.

Maybe he didn't deserve to have the peace of mind that he craved.

If would be his punishment to have that concerto, that beautiful music that he had thought would last forever, always playing in his heart to torment him.

With that thought in his mind, Will drifted off to sleep, unaware that tears were slowly slipping down his cheeks even as he surrendered himself to blessed slumber.