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Title: Insidious Weakness
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: Hannibal Lecter/Will Graham
Fandom: Hannibal
Rating: PG-13
Table: 1drabble
Prompt: 10, Weakness
Author's Note: Sequel to "Terrible Vision."
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 bolt upright in bed, a scream frozen in his throat.

He'd seen that horrific vision of himself again, at a crime scene -- but this time, he was the victim, lying bloody and lifeless under a white sheet.

It was terrifying to think that he could see his own death, to believe that these dreams -- or visions, or whatever they were -- could be premonitions of what was going to happen to him. And even more terrifying was that he didn't know how his death had occurred.

Had he been murdered by one of the serial killers he was trying to catch? Or had it been some more insidious crime, some other reason for his death?

Will wasn't entirely sure that he wanted to know the answers.

He took one deep breath, then another, trying to calm himself down. It had obviously only been a dream; he was here in his own bed, safe and whole. He wasn't dead.

But how much longer would it be before he was facing that death? How much longer did he have before the visions started closing in on him, and he started seeing his own death more and more often, until it finally happened with him none the wiser as to why?

He pressed a hand to his chest, feeling his heart beating there. The weakness that had overtaken him was diminishing now, though he still felt shaken.

He'd thought that talking with Hannibal about those visions would help, and in a way, it had. But there were still the long nights to get through.

The nights brought horrible dreams, and the return of those visions. Only now, they were worse than ever. In his dreams, those visions were magnified, growing to a point where they seemed more reality than dream, even after he'd awakened from them.

Talking about them hadn't helped. It had only seemed to make them worse, and to make him more sure than ever that they were in some way prophetic.

Will shuddered at that thought, but he couldn't push it away.

He didn't want to think of himself as a victim. It would undermine his confidence, get in the way of everything he did in respect to his job.

He couldn't afford to see himself in that light. He couldn't let this insidious weakness take him over, couldn't let it sap his strength -- or his courage. If he did, then the darkness would win; it would creep up on him inch by inch, slowly, until it was in a position to swallow him whole.

Will rubbed his hand over his face, wishing that he could banish that weakness with just this one simple movement, that he could push the visions away.

But he knew that it would take much more than one small gesture to accomplish such a feat.