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Title: Not Like This
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: Hannibal Lecter/Will Graham
Fandom: Hannibal
Rating: R
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. soar

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Hannibal looked around him as he slowly entered the foyer of the house he'd been instructed to meet Will's abductor at, trying to be as quiet as he could. There was no sign of Will, but then, he had been told to go to the basement of the house.

His stomach muscles tightened at the thought of what he could find. Will might already be dead; he didn't want to let that thought unnerve him. He didn't want to think of the young man as a lifeless corpse; that wasn't how the wanted to remember Will.

Will wasn't going to die, he told himself firmly. He was going to rescue his lover and take him home safely, and the man who had dared to kidnap him would get his just desserts.

He couldn't lose Will. Not now, not like this. He wasn't going to examine his feelings on the matter too closely at the moment; he didn't have time. But he knew that if he lost Will, a life would go out of his life, a light that he didn't want to lose.

Slowly, carefully, the eased the revolver he was carrying out of his coat pocket. He wasn't absolutely sure that it was the best thing to do, holding a gun in plain sight when he confronted Will's assailant, but he was going to be as prepared as be possibly could be.

He couldn't hear anything; for just a moment, he let himself hope that Will wasn't here in this house, that he had somehow managed to escape. But he knew that wasn't likely.

No, Will was here. He was sure of it. And he needed help.

Taking a deep breath and then exhaling slowly, Hannibal made his way into the hallway; he was sure that the door to the basement would lead from there. After a few moments, he realized that he was correct -- the door was open, obviously left that was purposely.

He strode towards the door, realizing too late that his footsteps would probably be heard in the basement below. That man was holding Will captive down there; he had no doubt of that. And he'd just been foolish enough to advertise his presence in the house.

Well, in for a penny, in for a pound, he told himself as he began to cautiously move down the stairs into the basement. He didn't know what he would find there; he was trying his best to steel himself for whatever sight would meet his gaze.

When he reached the bottom of the steps, he looked around, frowning slightly. The basement was divided into rooms; there was light coming from one of them, so he could only assume that was where his Will was being held captive. He would soon find out?

His Will? The thought came as a jolt. Of course, he thought of Will as his -- but this feeling had been less ownership and more .... protectiveness.

Hannibal shook his head, pushing that thought away. He would contemplate his feelings for Will later, after this was over and his young lover was safe. He couldn't afford to let himself be distracted now; Will's life could be at stake.

He heard a movement from the room with the lights; Will had to be in there.

He wasn't going to rush forward; that would probably only get Will killed. He didn't doubt that the psychotic who had abducted Will was in that room with him, holding him prisoner, just waiting for Hannibal to come rushing to the rescue.

That would give him the excuse he needed to harm Will; Hannibal wasn't going to give him that excuse. He was going to make sure this man's plans were thwarted, and that he suffered for what he had done. He would make sure of that, if it was the last thing he did.

Of course, it wouldn't be the last thing he did. He would prevail in this; he would rescue Will, and the man who had dared to take what was his would come to regret his actions.

When he stepped into the room, the tableau that met his eyes was something of what he had expected, though not quite. Will was standing in the center of the room, naked, his hands tied behind his back, what looked like a tourniquet around his throat.

The man who had abducted him was standing behind him, holding a gun to Will's head. A smile curved his lips, a smile that indicated his pleasure at the situation. He obviously thought that he had won, that he held all of the cards in this little game.

No, not a game, Hannibal cautioned himself. This wasn't a game, not when Will's life hung in the balance. He couldn't treat this as a game, couldn't afford to make any wrong moves. He had to Find a way to get that man away from Will.

"So we meet at last," he said, keeping his voice measured and even. "What do I have to do for you to let Will go, and for the two of us to leave here?"

The man's eyes widened as though he hadn't expected Hannibal to speak first; when he spoke, the tone of his voice belied his satisfaction. "You aren't leaving here, Dr. Lecter. Neither is Will. You're both going to die here. You'll watch him die first."

Hannibal's muscles tensed at the words. This situation was more dangerous than he'd thought.

"You're going to watch your boyfriend choke to death," the man continued, sounding almost gleeful. "And then you're going to try to kill me. I never doubted that. But I'm too fast for you, Lecter. And you're not going to be able to function once your little plaything is dead."

Hannibal's lips tightened; he couldn't stop himself. Yes, he would be upset if Will was killed, and he would do anything within his power to prevent that from happening. But if this man thought that a death would destroy him, even Will's death, then he was indeed crazy.

"I have no intention of doing anything of the sort," he said, trying to keep his voice level. "I am going to take Will out of here and get him the care he needs. And you are going to jail. Or to hell. Whichever one suits you better. I would prefer the latter."

The man threw back his head and laughed, the sound echoing around the small room. "I don't think so, Dr. Lecter. I really don't think so. But you can go on believing that if you like. You can believe it right up until the second that your boyfriend gasps his last."

With those words, he began to twist the cords around Will's throat with one hand, pulling them tighter. Hannibal could see that he had twisted the cords around what looked like two knitting needles; it was easy to pull them tight by twisting the needles.

His heart was slamming against his rib cage; he knew that it would be all too easy for this man to choke Will before he could do anything.

He wanted to shoot, but he didn't dare .Will's slender body formed a delicate barrier between the bullet and the man that it was meant for; if he was even so much as one millimeter off in his aim, he could kill Will himself, purely by accident.

He couldn't let that happen .He couldn't take the chance.

But he had to do something, and quickly. Will was already gasping for breath; he couldn't claw at the cords around his throat, not with his hands tied. Hannibal knew that he was running out of time, just as Will was running out of oxygen.

The man laughed at him again, twisting the cords tighter. Will made a strangled sound; his eyes rolled back in his head, and his body spasmed. Hannibal didn't want to watch, didn't want more proof that Will was being murdered before his eyes.

"You can't save him, Dr. Lecter," Will's abductor whispered to him, even as he tightened the cords yet again. "He's going to die, and you're going to watch it happen. You're going to see his dead body in front of you before you die. You'll join him in hell."

"That would never be the place that Will went, if you believe in such things," Hannibal told him, unable to keep the anger out of his voice. "He's never done anything but good."

"And you, Dr. Lecter?" the man inquired, tilting his head to the side as though they were having a civilized conversation, as though he wasn't choking a man to death at gunpoint even as he spoke. "Where would you go? I doubt it would be the same place."

What did this man know about him? Hannibal thought, panic starting to rise. He obviously knew something, or he wouldn't have said those words. Not only did he have to save Will, he had to find a way to make sure that this man was the one who was left dead.

Will gasped again; Hannibal could see that his lips were slowly turning blue. He had to do something, and quickly, before it was too late to save his lover from this hideous fate. He had to find an opening, any chance that he might have to turn this situation around.

Will's assailant moved his hand slightly, the gun pointing away from his captive.

That was the chance he'd been waiting for. Without hesitation, Hannibal aimed and fired; his heart felt as though it had jumped into his throat for a second, until he saw the dark hole appear in the man's forehead and the gun dropped from his hand.

There was a surprised look on his face as he fell to the ground, as though he hadn't allowed himself to even conceive that this could happen to him.

Will crumpled to the ground before Hannibal could catch him; without another thought for the man who had held Will captive, Hannibal rushed to his young lover's side, taking Will into his arms and turning him over, searching his face anxiously.

Will didn't appear to be breathing. Hannibal's heart caught in his throat; he couldn't be too late. After what had just happened, Will should be breathing and opening his eyes, looking up at him and giving him a wan, grateful smile. He shouldn't be like this.

His lips were slightly blue; Hannibal could feel no breath of life coming from his lungs. This wasn't right. This wasn't the way it should be. This wasn't supposed to happen. He wasn't supposed to lose Will like this. He should have years left with the mate of his choice.

This was not their ending. It couldn't be. He wouldn't accept that Will had been taken from him. Not like this. It wasn't time for them to say their final goodbyes. Not yet.

Hannibal gently unwound the cords around Will's throat, throwing them aside. He tiled the young man's head back, opening his mouth, then leaning forward to place his lips on Will's to breathe air and life and hope into his inert body.

This had to work. He wouldn't accept that Will was gone.

He would feel it if his lover was gone. There would be an empty space within him, a space that he knew in his heart no one else could ever fill. Until this moment, he hadn't thought that he loved Will. Now, he wasn't so sure of that.

His efforts didn't seem to be working; Will wasn't moving, wasn't breathing. Fear seized Hannibal's heart in a spasm; what if he had been too late? If that was the case, he would never forgive himself for robbing both of them of their time together.

He couldn't lose Will, not like this. He couldn't let his lover depart from this life without seeing that smile once more, without seeing love and desire in those blue eyes.

Hannibal gathered Will close, holding the young man's inert body in his arms, whispering into his ear. "Will, don't leave me," he pleaded, the words coming from the depths of his soul. "Come back to me. It is not our time to part. Not yet. Please don't go."

He laid Will down again, then bent over him to press his lips against his lover's slack mouth. He wasn't going to give up until he knew that it was hopeless. Somewhere within this body, a spark of life still burned -- just as strongly as hope burned in Hannibal's heart.

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