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Title: The Devil To Pay
Pairing: Hannibal Lecter/Will Graham
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 straightened up from where he'd been kneeling on the kitchen floor to pet the dogs after he'd fed them, smiling at their foolish attempts to jump up and lick his face. They'd obviously missed him, but he couldn't be at home alone right now.
As long as he and Hannibal came here every evening to let the dogs out for a run and feed them, they would be all right until all of this was over and he could come back home safely. At the moment, it was too dangerous for him to be here when he had a stalker.
Hannibal had pointed out that if he chose to live closer to civilization, he would be able to stay at home, as it would be much easier for a friend to stay with him.
But Will had balked at that suggestion. He liked being out here in the country.
No, that wasn't it, he told himself. He liked living in the middle of nowhere, yes -- but it was more that he liked being alone. He liked feeling isolated; he was used to it. Driving into the city to go to work, and to be with his lover, was enough city life for him.
He didn't want to spend all of his time there, feeling hemmed in by houses and concrete roads on all sides. He liked the feeling of being in the wild out here in Wolf Trap, of being surrounded by nature. Even if it was a little lonely at times.
He wanted to spend more time with Hannibal, but that could be easily managed. It wouldn't be hard to divide his time between being here at home, enjoying his privacy an solitude, and being with the man who was becoming his rock in a swiftly changing universe.
Maybe he shouldn't be so dependent on Hannibal, Will thought with a soft sigh. It wasn't healthy for him to be so focused on one person. And it was a scary feeling, that dependence.
Maybe some people would say that he was falling in love.
That thought almost made him gasp aloud; he hadn't considered it before. Well, he had, but only in passing, and it had seemed like such a ridiculous idea that he'd pushed it out of his mind immediately. Falling in love? Him? With Hannibal? No.
But there was something growing between them, even though Will didn't believe that it could be neatly packaged in one simple four-letter word. He didn't believe in love -- not really. And falling in love with Hannibal was an idea that somehow seemed .... well, terrifying.
Hannibal already knew so much about him; he'd more or less told this man everything about his life. The only thing Hannibal didn't know about was some of his disturbing inner desires -- and Will couldn't help feeling that, sooner or later, he'd discover those as well.
Staying with Hannibal might be a mistake. It might let the other man get too close to him, and it might make him even more dependent than he already was.
Still, that seemed to be the only option at the moment. Staying here wouldn't be safe; he doubted that his stalker would hurt the dogs, but if Will was here alone, he'd be in far too vulnerable a position. It was better to be safe than sorry.
He had no idea who this person was, or what they planned to do to him. And really, he didn't want to find out the latter. It was frightening enough to know that someone was after him; he didn't want their intentions spelled out in any kind of gory detail.
He just wanted them caught so he could feel safe again.
Will turned back towards Hannibal, surprised to find the other man on his feet and heading for the stairs. He turned to look at Will, raising an eyebrow as he gestured to the second floor of the house, stopping at the foot of the stairs.
"I'm going to pack a bag for you," he said, as though he did this sort of thing every day. "You stay here and relax, Will. You need to spend a bit of time with your dogs. I think they will give you a sense of security, and lift your spirits."
Will nodded, knowing that Hannibal was probably right. He always felt better in the dogs' company; maybe that was why he had so many of them.
He leaned his head back on the couch as Hannibal disappeared up the stairs, closing his eyes. This was the first time in forever that anyone had tried to take care of him -- and he was finding that he liked it. He liked being able to let go of the reins for once, to relinquish control.
Somehow, it didn't feel strange to think of having that control in Hannibal's hands. It was more .... exciting, yes, that would be the word. He didn't know what to expect from Hannibal; that made everything the other man did with him a kind of adventure.
Will took a deep breath, letting himself relax further into the comfortable couch cushions. He didn't notice that the front door had slowly opened, and that the dogs had disappeared outside onto the porch, leaving him alone in the room.
He was out cold seconds after the syringe sank into his upper arm.
Hannibal took his time packing a bag for Will to bring to his house; he had made up his mind that he wanted the young man to be dressed decently when he left the house to go to work in the mornings. He was taking this opportunity to choose Will's clothes for him.
He told himself that it was mainly because he didn't want Will to leave his home badly dressed, that it would reflect on him. Of course, it wouldn't, but he didn't want to admit that. He needed to make an excuse, even to himself, for why he was picking out what Will would be wearing.
The truth was, he enjoyed having such control over the young man's life. It pleased him to know that Will was learning to defer to him in all things.
Well, probably not all things, Hannibal amended. But Will certainly deferred to him in matters of style and taste; he obviously had the better judgment when it came to such things, and Will was intelligent enough to know that and to accept the fact.
He looked up when he heard the front door slam, a frown on his face. He hadn't told Will that he could go back outside; he had no reason to be doing so.
Going to the window, Hannibal looked out -- and froze in place for a few moments.
A man wearing a ski mask was carrying an obviously unconscious Will to his car, opening the back door and throwing the young man's motionless body inside. Before Hannibal could make a move, he'd slammed the door and gotten into the front seat, revving the engine.
Before Hannibal's frozen muscles could move, before he could do so much a raise a hand, the car sped off, quickly disappearing in a cloud of dust.
"Will!" Hannibal knew that calling out his young lover's name would do nothing to stop what was happening; it was instinctive, a cry that slipped from his mouth before he could stop it. There was nothing he could do; he was already too late.
For a moment, a feeling of panic swept over him. Who was this man? Where was he taking Will? And more importantly, how could he be caught and stopped before he did something to Will? All those questions raced through his mind in a matter of seconds.
Turning away from the window, Hannibal pulled out his cell phone, scrolling to Jack Crawford's number. He had to call Jack immediately and tell him what had happened.
At the moment, it seemed that Jack was Will's best hope of being rescued.
But Hannibal knew that he would try to find Will himself. And when -- not if -- when he did, he would make the man who had kidnapped his young lover suffer as much as possible before he dispatched the bastard to another realm.
He would take great pleasure in doing so, he told himself grimly. No one touched what belonged to him -- and Will Graham was his. No one else had the right to touch him, to do anything to hm. If Will was harmed in any way, there would be the devil to pay.
Hannibal was that devil. He knew millions of ways to make a human being suffer -- and once he caught this man, he would use them all, to great effect.
He would find Will, with or without the FBI's help. And once he did, he would make sure that his lover was safe and whole before he sent the man who had put Will's life in jeopardy to his own private hell -- and a few others along the way, as well.
No one took what was his. No one.
His hand clenched on the phone as he waited for Jack to answer. When the voice mail kicked in, Hannibal cursed and closed the phone without leaving a message. He would tell Jack what was going on -- but first, he was going to do a little detecting of his own.
He would find Will. He would find him and bring the man who had kidnapped him to his own particular brand of justice, which would be swift and sure.
When he had his quarry cornered, that justice would be terrible indeed.
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