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Title: Sensitive Places
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: Hannibal Lecter/Will Graham
Fandom: Hannibal
Rating: PG-13
Author's Note: One-shot.
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.


Will sighed as he propped his chin in his hands, gazing into the forest around his home.

Hannibal was in jail. He was safely behind bars; there was nothing to worry about now. That maniac was locked away. He couldn't hurt anyone else.

Or could he? Will sighed softly, closing his eyes. Even in prison, he was sure that Hannibal wouldn't stop his scheming, and that his murderous intentions wouldn't be halted. He would keep trying to find some way that he could achieve any goal he might have.

No one was safe, not as long as Hannibal was still in the world. He could be kept locked up, but there were still ways for him to communicate.

Just putting him behind bars didn't make the world safe from him.

Will shuddered at the memories of all that Hannibal had done; he had seen it all, up close and personal. He knew all too well just what that monster was capable of doing.

After all, hadn't Hannibal once turned a murderous rage onto him? He had barely escaped that -- and he'd nearly paid for that animosity with his life.

Not to mention that he'd been robbed of his freedom for months when he had been framed for the horrors that Hannibal had wreaked on the world. It was going to be a long time before he forgot how it had felt to be locked up, with no escape in sight.

The only thing that had kept him going when he was in that prison was his need to prove that Hannibal was the culprit, to show the world just how evil he was.

Well, he had managed to do that at last, Will told himself. And he could feel good about it. He had saved a lot of innocent lives by putting a serial killer away.

So why didnt he feel like he'd done enough?

He'd done all that he could, Will thought with another soft sigh, running a hand through his hair and over his face. He couldn't possibly have given any more effort to this cause.

But had he, really? Had he done absolutely all that he could to make sure that Hannibal was put away, or had he settled for simply giving himself a pat on the back and saying that he'd done well? He didn't want to think that way, but maybe it was the truth.

Maybe he should have tried to do more, to push for the death penalty. All of Hannibal's victims would have wanted that, and so did their families and loved ones.

But that thought touched some sensitive places within him that he drew back from.

He didn't want to be responsible for someone's death, not even someone who had committed the heinous acts that Hannibal had. He didn't want to be an architect of death.

No, that was Hannibal's province -- and he wanted no part of it. He had seen just how quickly he himself could sink into the morass that Hannibal occupied, how the depths of his mind could make the higher moral standards that he'd always held himself to disappear.

That frightened him. He didn't want to become what Hannibal was. He would do away with himself before he would sink that low. He wouldn't be that kind of a monster.

That was another sensitive place that he veered away from, a part of himself that he didn't want to look at too closely. The darker side of who he was.

He was a good person, Will told himself firmly. He had too precise a moral compass to ever become the kind of twisted, perverted thing that Hannibal was. But there was a part of him that could sink that darkness, that could embrace it and become a part of it.

If he was honest with himself, he was more than a little afraid of that dark side. Afraid that it would rear its ugly head one day, and refuse to go away again.

He didn't want that to happen. He was terrified of succumbing to that darkness.

The idea of his moral compass was yet another sensitive place for Will, one that he didn't like to think about. It had been compromised far too much since he'd met Hannibal.

But his association with Hannibal hadn't succeeded in wiping out that strong morality, and he should be proud of that fact, Will thought, sitting up and straightening his shoulders. He hadn't let himself sink into that beguiling darkness that Hannibal had tried so hard to draw him into.

Yes, he was capable of it, just as anyone was. But it hadn't happened -- and he wouldn't let it, because in the end, that wasn't the person he was meant to be.

He wasn't Hannibal. He never could be. He never would be.

He shrank away from ever becoming anything like that monster, even though he was well aware that he had that possibility locked inside of himself.

And that was one of the most sensitive places that all of this touched, Will thought, pressing his lips together in a firm line. The knowledge that he could lose his way.

He wasn't going to do it, he vowed. He was going to keep to the path that he'd been on before he had ever met Hannibal, before that evil had blighted his life. He was going to keep believing that using his empathic abilities could bring about some good, that he could help people.

If he couldn't hold on to that, then what did he have? Nothing, that was what. If not for that, then he would have to let himself fall into that darkness.

And he wasn't going to turn to that dark side of himself. That was what Hannibal wanted, and the last thing he ever wanted to do was to give in to what Hannibal desired.

He would die first. And if it was possible, he would take Hannibal out with him.

Will sighed softly, looking at his watch before he got to his feet and stretched. It was getting late, and he should think about making dinner.

He wasn't going to probe those sensitive places of his existence any more tonight. He'd done enough of it already; he was feeling raw and exposed, and he knew that to keep thinking about the same subject would only make his mind run in circles, until he'd exhausted himself.

Besides, Hannibal was locked up. He didn't have to think about that monster again. That part of his life was a closed case. He had shut the door on it.

That thought made him smile as he closed the front door firmly behind him.