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Title: Something Stolen
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: Hannibal Lecter/Will Graham
Fandom: Hannibal
Rating: PG-13
Author's Note: Sequel to "Oppressive Silence."
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.


Hannibal had stolen something from him that he could never get back.

That monster had stolen his self-confidence -- at least for a while. He had made Will feel that he was a victim, that he was unable to protect himself.

And not only that, but he had stolen a part of Will's belief in himself, and in others. That was what he could never get back, and he mourned the loss.

He would never be able to completely trust anyone again. Hannibal had killed that part of him that believed in the innate goodness of people, that part of his soul that trusted in the light. A part of that light had gone out, and Will knew that it could never shine again.

That was a loss that he couldn't cope with. That light had been a large part of what kept him going through all of the horrors he was forced to witness in his job.

Knowing that the people who had committed the vile crimes he saw every day would be caught and brought to justice had kept him doing his job, day in and day out.

Now, he wasn't sure that he could continue.

Whenever he looked at crime scenes now, he didn't see an opportunity to catch a killer. All he saw was carnage and destruction, never any kind of hope.

Hannibal had stolen a part of him that he'd never thought he would lose -- his optimism. That had always been a big part of what had carried him through his work.

Now that optimism was gone, and Will doubted that he would ever get it back. He hated knowing that such a large part of who he had been had disappeared forever, and that it would never return. He mourned the loss of that optimism with a heavy heart.

But that wasn't the only thing that Hannibal had taken from him, he thought, clenching his fists. Hannibal had also taken something that he should have chosen to give.

Before Hannibal, he had never been with a man before.

Oh, he'd known for years that he was gay. He'd known that he preferred men to women -- and really, that he was only with women because it was expected of him.

But it wasn't what he wanted. He had never really been sexually attracted to any woman. He was attracted to some womens' minds, not to their bodies.

Hannibal had taken the choice of who to give himself to away from him.

He didn't want to say the word "rape" in connection with himself. That made him sound too much like a victim. But in essence, that was exactly what he'd been.

Yes, he had been raped. It still pained him to think of it; he had moved his bed to the other side of the room, and had even gotten a new bed because he couldn't bear to sleep in the same bed that he'd violated in. He didn't want to remember that awful night.

Though that night would stay in his memory for the rest of his life, and he knew it. He would never be able to completely push it away and bury it.

Will hoped that what had taken place wouldn't color any relationship he might have in the future. He didn't want to become a bitter, lonely, regretful old man.

That was the greatest thing that Hannibal had stolen from him.

Those memories would never go away. They would always be there, in the back of his mind, waiting to jump out at him, or in his dreams.

Would he ever be able to give himself to anyone wholeheartedly after what Hannibal had done to him? He didn't know, and at the moment, he didn't want to find out.

The last thing he needed was to find out that he could no longer bear for anyone to touch him, or to even think of being physical with another man. That was one more complication in a life that was already filled with them, just one more worry that he didn't need to deal with.

On top of everything, he knew that Hannibal was coming back for him. He couldn't doubt that for one moment, either. They would have a final confrontation.

It didn't frighten him as it might have at one time, but he was apprehensive. He wasn't at all sure that he would come out of this on the winning side.

But if he didn't survive that final battle, would it really matter?

Of course it would, Will told himself firmly. He still had a lot to live for. Hannibal might have stolen something from him, but the bastard hadn't destroyed him.

He wouldn't let what Hannibal had done to him take away his will to survive. That was the worst he could do, and Will refused to let himself be beaten down that far. If he lost that survival instinct, if he just gave up, then he really didn't have any reason to keep living, did he?

He wasn't going to answer that question. He was just going to move forward as best he could, prepare for his next meeting with Hannibal, and hope that he was the victor.

He wouldn't dwell on what had been taken from him. He couldn't.

Yes, something had been stolen from him that he could never recover. But he would move on with his life, and he would be happy and fulfilled.

Will sighed, getting to his feet and heading toward the kitchen to make himself dinner. It was easy to say those words. But it was going to be much harder to follow through on them.