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Title: Rest
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: Hannibal Lecter/Will Graham
Fandom: Hannibal
Rating: PG-13
Table: Table 2, 20 in 20 Challenge, tv_universe
Prompt: 15, Sleeping
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.


Sleep was impossible to find.

Will sighed, turning over in bed and thumping his fist against his pillow. He had always suffered from insomnia, but since getting out of jail, it had become even worse.

Sleep wouldn't elude him like this if he could prove what he knew to be true -- that Hannibal was the one behind the murders, and that he should be incarcerated, behind bars for the rest of his life. The thought never left him, burning into his brain day and night.

Some would say that he was obsessed with proving Hannibal's guilt. Hell, Hannibal would say that himself, Will thought wryly as he rolled over onto his back.

Of course, Hannibal wasn't going to admit that he was the one responsible for all of the Chesapeake Ripper murders. Neither would be confess to framing Will for those murders. But he'd done it, and somehow, some way, Will intended to prove that fact.

He didn't know yet how he'd manage it, but there had to be a way. He'd find that way, no matter what it took, no matter what he had to do.

No matter what sacrifices he might have to make.

He'd already sacrificed his peace of mind, he thought sourly as he turned over again, trying to find a cool spot on the pillow.

No, that wasn't really true, he told himself with a soft sigh. He'd lost his peace of mind long ago, when he had first become entangled with Hannibal, when he'd actually believed that such a repulsive monster was his friend, when he'd been drawn in by Hannibal's lies.

He'd been manipulated, lied to, and wronged in every possible way. And yet that reprehensible reptile still insisted that he was Will's "friend."

How could he ever have been stupid enough to believe that?

Will almost snorted aloud at the thought. Hannibal didn't know how to be a friend to anyone. He only knew how to lie, use, and manipulate.

Well, Will Graham wasn't going to be a victim of those manipulations. Not any longer. He sat up in bed, his thoughts coalescing to a single point. He was going to prove that Hannibal was guilty, beyond a shadow of a doubt. And he would put that bastard behind bars.

He didn't care how long it took, or how much sleep he'd lose before it was done. It would be done, even if it took years.

That thought gave him pause. What if it did take years? And what if, within those years, Hannibal killed more and more people?

Will knew that he wasn't going to stop. A serial killer couldn't stop themselves. It was a kind of sickness, and he was sure that for Hannibal, it was a way of life that seemed normal to him. He couldn't kill with such efficiency and impunity unless it felt natural.

A shudder went through him at the thought. The idea of murdering innocent people seeming natural -- even to a twisted, perverted mind like Hannibal's -- was anathema to him.

He could never do something like that. Never.

Which only made Hannibal's murders all the more repellant to him, and made him mroe determined than ever to see that they were stopped, once and for all.

But one thing was for sure -- he couldn't stop Hannibal if he wasn't functioning at the top of his game, and thanks to the lack of sleep recently, at the moment, he wasn't. He had to find some way to make himself sleep more, to get the rest that he needed.

His sleeping schedule was all out of whack, and he was always tired lately. This had to stop, especially if he wanted to be working at peak condition.

He had to find a way to get more sleep.

Sleep had never come easily for him, Will reflected, staring up at the ceiling again. But since he'd been in jail, it had been even harder to get the rest he needed.

When he had first gotten out, there were the inevitable nightmares about being back behind bars, of finding out that he was indeed a killer, and his knowledge of what Hannibal had done was merely his own mind telling him what he wanted to hear, instead of the truth.

When those nightmares had stopped, the sleeplessness had started. He'd tried everything from counting sheep to leaving the radio on, tuned to nothing but white noise.

Nothing worked. Instead of helping him to get more sleep, everything that he'd tried only seemed to make him even more restless at night. He supposed he should be grateful that he hadn't started walking in his sleep again. That would be the last straw.

if he did that again, then he would be seriously backsliding. The last thing he needed was go back to those habits he'd developed when Hannibal had been a part of his life.

When Hannibal had been inducing his seizures, and who knew what else.

Will's hands curled into fists at the thought; just remembering the things that Hannibal had done, the way he'd been duped, made him blazingly angry.

But that anger wasn't going to help send him to sleep, he told himself firmly, closing his eyes and forcing himself to relax. That was what he needed to do right now; he needed to get some rest, and think peaceful thoughts to help himself drift off.

That was going to be harder to do than he'd thought. But somehow, he'd start getting the rest he needed to function at his best. He really didn't have a choice.

He didn't know how he'd do it, but he'd try whatever might help.