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Title: Monster in His Dreams
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: Hannibal Lecter/Will Graham
Fandom: Hannibal
Rating: PG-13
Table: 1drabble
Prompt: 21, Dream
Author's Note: Sequel to "Look Good in Orange."
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's eyes snapped open, his gaze focused at the ceiling above.

It took him a few moments to catch his breath, to calm his racing heart. A dream. It had only been a dream. He wasn't lying on a table in Hannibal's kitchen. There was no tube snaking down his throat, no horribly ugly, reptilian face staring smugly down at him.

He wasn't Hannibal's victim. That was in the past. It was only his dreams that took him back to those horrible times; they were gone for good.

He took one deep breath, then another, closing his eyes and trying to push the dream away from him. No, not just a dream -- a memory. Why did this particular one always seem to come back to haunt him, with all of its attendant sensations and fears?

Because it was the only memory that had been clear so far.

There were others; Will was sure of it. Hannibal wouldn't have stopped there. He had to have done more. He wouldn't have simply stopped there.

No, a monster like Hannibal got off on having his victims completely under his control, and Will didn't doubt that other things had been done to him when his mind had been more or less asleep. He was sure that there was much more, just underneath the surface.

He would find it, whatever he had to do. It wouldn't be considered cold hard evidence of Hannibal's guilt, but at least he himself would know the truth.

He would never get the truth from Hannibal. He was sure of that. He would only get more evasions and lies, protests of a friendship that had never existed.

His lips twisted in a cynical parody of a smile at that thought. Hannibal didn't know how to be a friend. He only knew how to manipulate and play mind games; there was nothing friendly about that. It was terrifying, and the man was a menace to society.

Will knew that he'd murdered Abigail. He knew that Hannibal was the Chesapeake Ripper, no matter what anyone else might believe. He knew it in his gut.

He didn't need dreams to tell him that.

The problem was going to be to get other people to believe what he already knew to be fact. He had to put his memories together, piece by piece, had to relax himself enough to let them come flooding back. He had to figure out what was real and what was a lie.

If he couldn't put those pieces back together and produce something coherent out of them, if he couldn't find the truth, then Hannibal would stay a free man.

That wasn't going to happen, Will thought, gritting his teeth and clenching his fists. Hannibal was guilty, and he'd prove that guilt. He would make others see what he saw. He would rip that human mask away, and reveal the monster beneath.

The monster that he always saw in his dreams was real. And he would prove it.