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Title: Battle Lines
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: Hannibal Lecter/Will Graham
Fandom: Hannibal
Rating: PG-13
Author's Note: Sequel to "Fixed."
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 sat on his front porch, looking out into the trees that clustered thickly in front of his house.

How often had he sat here and felt safe, knowing that he was isolated from most of the world? How often had he felt that he'd found the perfect place to be?

Nowhere was a perfect place to stay safe. Hannibal was capable of penetrating all of his defenses, and there was no place he could run to.

Will smiled wryly at the word he'd chosen to use in his mind. He didn't want to think of the unwanted physical intimacy that had taken place between the two of them; Hannibal might look at it as love, but it had been rape. He hadn't wanted it in any way; he had been forced.

But of course, Hannibal would gloss over that fact in his mind, Will thought sourly. In his twisted psyche, they had a relationship. He probably considered them lovers.

Not that Will didn't like men, of course. Hannibal knew that he leaned in that direction. But he had never wanted to be intimate with Hannibal; it had always seemed so wrong.

He'd always known that something wasn't right about the other man.

Now he knew for certain that Hannibal was the wrong person for him. He was the wrong person for anyone, Will thought with another wry smile. No one was safe with him.

Hannibal wasn't capable of caring for anyone. He knew that. The man was a serial killer; their minds didn't work like a normal person's did. They didn't know how to love; the only thing that they were capable of caring about was being able to satisfy their own selfish desires.

Hannibal was like that. He wasn't able to love; what he thought he felt for Will was really only an admiration of whatever he saw in Will that gave back his own reflection.

That wasn't love. It was a sick and twisted obsession.

Will shuddered at the memories, firmly pushing them away from him. Jack thought that he needed to see a psychiatrist about them, and maybe he was right.

But the last thing he wanted to do was see another psychiatrist, Will thought with a bitter laugh. Look at what had happened when he'd agreed to sessions with Hannibal.

Of course, another psychiatrist wouldn't be a serial-killing cannibal. There surely couldn't be two of them, not in the same city. And even if there was another person somewhere who was like Hannibal, Will didn't think the chances of them being part of his life were too good.

He hoped not, anyway. One Hannibal Lecter is anyone's life was more than enough. It was more than he wanted. He wished that the two of them had never met.

The last thing he wanted in his life was any kind of residual memory of Hannibal. He wanted to exorcise that monster from his mind, rid himself of everything that reminded him of that time.

He wouldn't be able to do that until Hannibal was behind bars, until he knew that the monster was caged and that he would never be able to hurt him, or anyone else, again. Until that time, he was a target, and he knew it. He could do nothing but sit back and wait for Hannibal to strike.

Though he knew that some kind of communication would come first. That was Hannibal's way, at least with him. He wouldn't simply appear out of nowhere.

Well, he would, but for some reason, he seemed to want to give Will some warning of what was going to take place. Probably just trying to heighten his fear, his anticipation.

Well, if that was his intention, it was working pretty damn well.

When his cell phone rang, he pulled it out of his pocket, not bothering to check the number of the caller. He assumed it was Jack, calling to check on him.

"Hello?" His voice was strong and firm, and even a little absent. He cleared his throat, waiting for the person on the other end to speak. If it was Jack, he was probably being interrupted by someone in his office who had to tell him something; that happened more often than not these days.

"Hello, Will." The strongly accented voice he heard made his heart stutter and skip a few beats; he didn't speak again. He couldn't. His breath was caught in his throat.

Besides that, he didn't know what he should say.

He hadn't expected Hannibal to call him again. He had thought that the other man would give him some time, rather than get in touch with him so soon after that last call.

But of course he should have realized that Hannibal wanted to catch him off-guard, to throw him off his game and make him feel as though he was floundering.

"We will meet again very soon, Will," Hannibal said, his voice even and pleasant, as though they were having a simple, casual conversation that wasn't fraught with tension. "I have done everything I could to give you a fighting chance. The rest is up to you."

"The rest?" His mind was struggling to process what Hannibal was trying to say. He didn't understand what the other man meant; he didn't know where this one-sided conversation was going.

"You will find out shortly," Hannibal told him, his voice colder and more clipped now. "When we meet again, you need to be prepared for battle, Will. Because this is a war."

"I know that," Will told him, trying to keep his voice from shaking.

He wasn't doing a very good job of that. He could hear the fear underlying his words; it seemed obvious to him. And if he felt that way, he was sure that Hannibal could sense it, too.

"There can only be one winning side in a war," Hannibal said, his voice sinking to a near-whisper. "I am very sorry that it's had to come to this between us, Will. I didn't want it to. I wanted you to be by my side. But it seems that this is an impossibility, and you have only yourself to blame for whatever happens."

Will was silent, those words sinking into his brain. He knew that they were meant to intimidate him, but for some reason, they didn't. Not at all.

They only made him want to do away with Hannibal, once and for all.

If he did, then the world would be a better and safer place -- not only for him, but for anyone else who could be one of Hannibal's chosen victims in the future.

He had already killed so many people, and ruined the lives of countless others by taking away their loved ones. He couldn't be allowed to get away with it any longer.

"No, two sides can't both win a war," he said, keeping his voice steady. The tendency of his tone to shake was gone; he was speaking in a strong, firm voice now, completely comfortable with his beliefs and with what he was saying. "But you should remember this, Hannibal. Good will always win over evil."

"Are you so sure of that, Will?" Hannibal countered, his own voice growing louder. "I wouldn't be. I've been the victor too many times over in the past for you to say that."

"Those days are over," Will said, his conviction that was he said was right loud and clear in his voice. "You're going down, Hannibal. And I'll be the one to close the cell door on you."

He would do just that. And he'd throw away the key.

"Then the battle lines have been drawn," Hannibal said, sounding glacial. "The next time we meet, it will be as bitter enemies. Remember, this is how you wanted it."

With that, he hung up, leaving Will holding his phone and at a loss for words. Slowly, he turned the phone off and returned it to his pocket, his gaze scanning the woods again for a very different reason. Could Hannibal be out there somewhere, closer than he thought, watching him?

No, he didn't think so. He doubted that his enemy would be here in broad daylight -- though he could very well be arrogant enough to think that he wouldn't get caught.

Still, it was a lot safer to err on the side of caution.

Getting up, Will whistled for the dogs, counting as all seven of them came running up onto the porch. He opened the door to let them in, thankful that they were all here and unharmed.

He would have to watch out for them -- and himself -- very carefully until Hannibal was caught. As the other man had pointed out, the battle lines had now been drawn.

He wondered when Hannibal would strike, and where.

This was a battle that only one of them would emerge from alive. And he didn't intend to be the loser.

***