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Title: Why'd You Do It
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Fandom: Hannibal
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,256
Author's Note: One-shot.
Warning: Major character death.
Disclaimer: This is entirely a product of my own imagination, and I make no profit from it. I do not own the lovely Will Graham or Hannibal Lecter, unfortunately, just borrowing them for a while. Please do not sue.

***

"Why'd you do it, Hannibal?"

Will's voice is tired, defeated. He stands a few feet away from Hannibal, arm out in front of him, both hands holding the gun that's pointed at his adversary.

Hannibal doesn't answer, only stands there staring at Will as though he can't believe what's happening. It's hard for him to imagine his mongoose turning on him.

But he has; that's more than obvious. The gun doesn't waver; Hannibal knows that if he makes a wrong move, a sudden lunge for Will in an effort to capture the gun, or at least to knock it from his hand, then he'll be dead. Will's aim is deadly and accurate; he won't miss. Hannibal is sure of that.

And he has no answer for Will. There are no easy words for him to explain why he's done all of the things that he'd done to this man; no answer that will satisfy Will's need to know.

The truth is something that only Hannibal knows, and that he can't put into words. But he does have some simple words for Will, words that are close to the unvarnished truth.

He raises one eyebrow, staring at Will, then speaks. "Because I could."

Will stares at him, blue eyes unblinking, a look of incredulity on his handsome face. "Because you could? That's not an answer, Hannibal. There has to be more to it than that."

How to explain? There are no words that he can say that will explain accurately to Will how he feels, how he has felt since the moment he first saw this young man.

He has always sensed the darkness within Will; sensed it, and wanted to nurture it. He has always wanted Will to be the continuation of his own darkness; after all, he can't live forever, and Will is quite a big younger than he is. He has wanted Will to be the one to carry on his .... work.

But he has known for a long time that it won't happen. There has been no way for him to nurture that darkness within Will; the light within the other man is too strong to be banished.

He has been moderately successful in some ways; he has made Will question himself over and over, made him see that the darkness within him has room to grow and take over.

But he hasn't been able to force that darkness out of the corners where it lurks. Oh, it has struck out a few times, but the light that also resides within Will has always beaten it back, and Hannibal has been forced to admit that it always will. Will Graham is not his successor, and never will be.

No, Will is his enemy. As much as he has wanted things to be different between them, it has always been fated that they would come to this very moment in time.

Hannibal is ready for it. He is ready to face the ultimate darkness; he has always known that it was coming, though he had hoped to avoid it for quite a while longer.

Ah, well. If he must resign himself to this fate, at least Will is one bringing it.

Perhaps he should try to explain things to Will, just once, before he exits this world. It's time that Will came to know something of what had been intended for him.

Of course, he already has his own version of those intentions, but Hannibal isn't sure that it's the proper way for him to think. Or that he can even explain to Will what he had meant to do.

Still, he can try. Taking a deep breath, he begins to speak, his voice low. "I merely wanted to show you what you could become, Will. I wanted to have a partner. I wanted to have someone to carry on for me. However, I realised early on that it could never happen. But still, I kept trying. I had to."

Will keeps staring at him, the look in his eyes going from incredulity to cynicism. "You knew that I'd never become what you are. But you still kept trying to destroy me just for the hell of it."

Hannibal shakes his head, knowing that Will can never understand, and that any explanation he can give would never be enough. There is an unbreachable chasm between them.

Too many bridges have been burned; they can never be rebuilt and crossed now.

"I never wanted to completely destroy you, Will," he says, keeping his voice soft, quiet, but not menacing. "I wanted to dismantle you, yes. But I wanted to make you into something better."

This time, Will actually snorts, though he doesn't take his gaze away from Hannibal -- and the gun in his hand doesn't waver. Hannibal knows that it won't.

"Better?" he says, the word sounding like a curse. "You didn't want me to be 'better.' You wanted me to be as dark and as evil as you are. You wanted me to become a killer, a murderer with no moral code and no conscience. You wanted me to become a remorseless killing machine. I could never be that."

Hannibal nods, agreeing with the other man. "I know that now, Will. Perhaps I knew it all along. But I had to try. I tried, and I failed. I can only say that I did my best."

Will doesn't nod, doesn't say another word. He just keeps staring at Hannibal, as though he's searching for something that he knows he'll never find.

Honor. Decency. Remorse for all that he had done. One flicker of regret.

There is none, because Hannibal feels none. He isn't ashamed of anything that he's done -- not the people who he's senselessly murdered, nor all of the evil that he's done to Will.

He doesn't regret destroying this man's life, upending everything that means something to Will and making all of his illusions crumble to the ground. No, in fact, he's proud of it.

And that is what Will can't take. He can't let this go on; he knows that if he does, things will go from bad to worse, and that he'll eventually give in to what Hannibal wants just to make it stop. Once he does that, once he goes down that road, there's no turning back. He'll be swallowed by the darkness.

"I don't need to know why you did it," he whispers. "Not really. It's enough that you did, and that I have to pay the price for it and live with the past for the rest of my life."

With those words, he pulls the trigger. A dark hole appears in the center of Hannibal's forehead, and then he falls to the ground, face down, at Will's feet -- as though he's a supplicant.

Will closes his eyes, finally letting the gun drop to the floor.

It's over. He's done what he came here to do.

And it's one more thing that will draw him further into that darkness.

One more thing that will affect his life, one more thing to live with.

Forever.

***