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Title: What We Really Want
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: Will Graham/Everett Hobbs (Original Character)
Fandom: Hannibal
Rating: PG-13
Author's Note: Everett's face is Benedict Cumberbatch.
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 Lee Fallon, unfortunately, just borrowing them for a while. Please do not sue.


Everett knew that Hannibal wasn't simply going to turn away and give up now that Will had turned away from him. He wasn't the type to give up easily; adversity only made him cling all the more tightly.

Hannibal would do whatever he had to do to have Will back in his clutches. And Everett was absolutely positive that he wouldn't stop at murder, or something equally horrifying.

Did Will realise that? Everett asked himself as he looked across the table at Will again. Did he know just how dangerous Hannibal was to him, just how obsessed the other man was with him?

He wasn't sure just what Will thought about the strange relationship he'd had with Hannibal. Will had thought that they were friends, but it was obvious that Hannibal had never been a friend. Now, Will seemed to be at odds with his own feelings, though Everett didn't blame him for that.

It couldn't be easy to come to the realization that someone you had thought was a friend, someone you had trusted, was a murderer who had set you up -- and even tried to kill you.

Yes, Hannibal had tried to kill Will. That encephalitis had been induced, Everett was sure of it.

The thought of all that Hannibal had done to Will made Everett's blood boil. He could have killed Will with the encephalitis; it was a potentially fatal disease. And Hannibal hadn't given a damn.

Will had been nothing but an experiment to him, a way to see how far he could push someone before they went over the edge, or shattered. What Everett really wanted was to push Hannibal in the same way, to move him towards the edge of madness and then push him over the edge into that deep, dark abyss.

Let Hannibal see what it was like. Let him find out what it felt like to be a helpless pawn, to be pushed to the edge time and time again just to see how long it would take him to topple over and disappear.

Everett's hands clenched into fists at his sides; with a deliberate concentration on the action, he managed to unclench them and flex his fingers. Getting angry wouldn't do them any good; he had been through all of the stages of grief when Luke had been murdered, and his anger was behind him now.

But that didn't mean that he couldn't be angry at what had been done to Will. He was boiling mad about that, and he knew that it would take him a long time to get past that anger.

It wouldn't be completely gone until Hannibal was safely behind bars, and no longer a threat.

"What we really want is to put him away for good, and we can't do that without solid evidence," Will fretted, running a hand through his hair again. "I don't know how we're going to get that."

Everett didn't know, either. Hannibal wouldn't just freely supply the information they wanted -- not unless he had them in a position where they wouldn't be able to tell anyone else, which would mean their deaths. He wasn't going to put Will into that kind of danger, not after his boyfriend had just been released from jail.

Will had been in grave danger the entire time he'd known Hannibal, really, Everett told himself. And until Hannibal was put away, he always would be, given Hannibal's obsession with him.

He wasn't going to let that monster get to Will again, he vowed. The man he loved had already suffered too much at Hannibal's hands; he wasn't going to make Will go through more of that kind of mental torture. Hannibal wasn't going to be allowed to get to Will, not in any capacity. There had to be some way to catch him without putting Will in jeopardy.

But in his heart, he knew that the only way they would get Hannibal to come to them, to confess even one word of what he'd done, was to use Will as a tempting bait.

He didn't want to do it, but he knew that Will would insist.

"We'll find a way," he said softly, reaching across the table to take Will's hand. He had to touch his boyfriend, had to feel Will's nearness, the solidity of his presence.

He only hoped that he was telling the truth, and that they would indeed figure out a way to stop Hannibal. Until they did, Everett knew that they were both targets, and that they were living on borrowed time.