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Title: Betrayal of Trust
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: Hannibal Lecter/Will Graham
Fandom: Hannibal
Rating: PG-13
Table: Table 2, 20 in 20 Challenge, tv_universe
Prompt: 11, Angry
Author's Note: Sequel to "Sweet Vengeance."
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.


Safe. That stupid, treacherous bitch wanted to know if Hannibal was safe.

She had never worried about his safety. Not once. Not even when she knew that he could very well have gotten the death penalty. No, she had been too busy spreading her legs for Hannibal, turning her back on someone she'd said was a friend.

Will snorted derisively, then pushed himself away from the kitchen table. He wasn't going to think about her any more. She wasn't his time or trouble.

He'd never been truly interested in her, and she'd known it. He had considered Bloom a friend, of course, but nothing more than that. The kiss they'd shared had been an experiment on his part, a final analysis of whether or not he could be interested in a woman.

That experiment had failed miserably.

It had let him know, once and for all, that women were most definitely not his sphere of interest. The kiss had been repulsive, horrible.

It had been like kissing a cold, dead, rubbery fish. Will didn't know if other women would feel the same, but that one kiss had been enough to let him know that there was no spark of attraction between him and this woman. He thought that he'd hidden the fact well.

But apparently, he hadn't. Not with the way she had turned against him when he'd most needed a friend, and had deliberately started fucking his worst enemy.

He had counted on their friendship, held on to it. To find out what a hideous, treacherous, lying bitch Bloom was had cut him to the quick. He might not have been romantically interested in her, but he had trusted that her friendship with him would last.

Well, that had obviously been a vain hope. He'd been wrong to trust someone who cared about nothing but getting laid, he told himself with a sneer.

She hadn't been able to get it from him, so she'd taken revenge.

And yes, he was angry about it. He had a right to be, Will told himself. He hadn't deserved to have his trust and his friendship betrayed like that.

He had every right to be angry; the kind of betrayal that she'd perpetrated on someone she had claimed to care for, someone she'd said was a friend, wasn't something that could be overlooked. But Will couldn't help wondering if his vengeance was already playing out.

After all, she was fucking a killer. She might refuse to believe that Hannibal was the Chesapeake Ripper, but Will knew better.

He'd tried to warn her. He'd told her that Hannibal wasn't safe, and she'd ignored him and acted like a whiny, petulant child who was being denied her favorite candy.

Well, he'd done his duty. He'd warned her, told her that Hannibal was dangerous and that she should stay as far away from him as possible. But he knew that she wouldn't listen. She would be spreading her legs for Hannibal again as soon as she could.

That wasn't his problem any more. If he still considered her a friend, then he would be concerned. But at this point, he simply didn't care any more.

The feeling was liberating. He had put friendships behind him.

It actually felt good to know that he could exist without them. Even though he supposed that he and Jack Crawford could still be considered friends, in a way.

He and Jack were united on a mission to catch Hannibal, to trip the bastard up and make him lose his way. Sooner or later -- and Will truly hoped that it would be sooner -- they would catch him, expose his crimes to the world, and put him behind bars.

If that hurt her, then he didn't really care .She had made a foolish decision, and allied herself with his worst enemy. She was no longer his friend in any way.

Will couldn't really bring himself to feel sad about that; the only emotion that seeped through at the thought was anger. Someone who had once called themselves his friend, and he had a right to be angry about being treated so shabbily.

If she ended up assisting Hannibal in any way, and went to jail because of it, then Will couldn't feel sorry for that, either. She would get what she deserved.

His lips curved into a smile at that thought.

Karma would eventually come back around to bite the bitch in the ass, and he wanted to be there to point and laugh when it did. She had made her bed, and was now lying in it -- though Will knew that it wouldn't be very comfortable in just a short while.

Well, let the slut get what she wanted while she still could, Will thought with a shrug. That was all she'd ever wanted from him -- just sex, nothing more.

When she hadn't been able to get what she wanted, then she had dumped his friendship like it hadn't even existed. He didn't need fake friends like that. He'd had far too many of them in his life, and it was far easier to jettison that kind of needless baggage.

Instead of feeling angry, he should feel .... free, he mused.

If anything happened to her from her association with Hannibal, he would feel sad that the killer had taken a life, but he wouldn't feel guilty, or responsible in any way.

He'd warned her away, and his anger over the situation hadn't abated. But just as she had made a decision to distance herself from their friendship, Will had done the same. He no longer considered her a friend, and he would feel no guilt when she met her untimely end.

Will was sure that she would. And other than the anger at knowing that the Chesapeake Ripper had killed again, he would feel no guilt over that end.

In fact, he was sure that he'd sleep like a baby.