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Title: Time To Stop Talking
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: Will Graham/Everett Hobbs (Original Character)
Fandom: Hannibal
Rating: PG-13
Table: Uncle Walt challenge, tv_universe
Prompt: "The way to get started is to quit talking and begin doing." -- Walt Disney
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.


"So, Will, we need to get started." Everett sounded cool and businesslike as he glanced up at Will, taking a folder out of his briefcase. "I know the particulars of the case."

Will shrugged, sighing softly and looking at his hands.

He didn't want to answer. He didn't want to talk about the case; it should be obvious to anyone that he'd been framed, that the evidence was just too convenient.

"Then you pretty much know everything you need to know, don't you?" he asked, his voice flat. "You've got all the so-called 'evidence,' even though none of it is true. I didn't kill anybody. I've said that from the beginning, but I've been set up so well that no one believes me."

"I believe you," Everett told him, leaning closer to Will across the table. "I've believed you from the start -- well, since I first heard of the case, anyway."

Will felt a rush of hope, a churning inside him that almost felt as if it was rearranging his internal organs from their usual places. "What makes you believe me?" he asked, taking care to keep his tone neutral. He didn't want Chilton -- or anyone else -- to see that hope.

"The fact that I know something of your adversary," Everett told him, his tone also even and calm. "The one who you say framed you and actually committed the murders."

"You've had experience with Hannibal Lecter?" Will couldn't keep the surprise from his voice.

"Yes, I have." Will noticed that, for some reason, Everett was keeping his voice pitched very low -- didn't he realized that Chilton was listening to all that they said?

He glanced up at the wall, scowling at the small monitor there. Chilton made no secret of the fact that he monitored all conversations between his patients -- inmates, Will thought with an inward snort. He wanted to rip that monitor away, as well as the microphone.

He had no privacy here. He and Everett couldn't talk about his case without Chilton knowing every word they said -- and probably giving those words to Hannibal.

There was no way to keep their conversations private. Not here.

How in the hell could he and Everett work out some way of bringing Hannibal to justice if that snake knew every word they were saying?

Will sat back in his chair, taking a deep breath. He needed to relax. Everett had dealt with cases like this before; he wouldn't be here if he hadn't. He would know what to do, and how best to go about this. He had to let himself trust Everett, to give him the reins.

"We have to prove that he framed you," Everett said, his words succinct. "That's the only way we're going to get a jury to believe you."

"Do you think I haven't thought of that?" Will asked with a sigh. "I don't know how to go about doing that. I know what he did. The memories are there. But I can't prove it."

"Then we have to find a way to prove it, Will." Everett frowned, his gaze focused on Will's face, intent and penetrating. "We have to find some way to point the finger of blame at him. We have to prove to all those other people that he's as evil as we know he is."

"How do you know that he's so evil?" Will asked, frowning at Everett. There was more to this man' than met the eye. He was sure of it.

He wanted to know just why Everett was so eager to prove his innocence.

Will had no doubt that whatever Everett's past experience with Hannibal was, it hadn't been a good one. He wouldn't be here if that was the case.

"Suffice it for now to say that I know," Everett answered, his tone crisp. It was obvious that he didn't want to talk about his reasons for being here, for defending Will, and for obviously disliking Hannibal. But Will was determined that he'd ferret them out, sooner or later.

After all, he had to trust Everett, didn't he? And if he was going to put all of his trust in this man, he had to know just why he was here.

He leaned forward, his gaze capturing Everett's and holding it.

"Can I trust you?" Will asked, the words blunt and forceful, though they were spoken quietly. "I want to. I just want to be sure that I'm doing the right thing."

Everett nodded slowly, reaching out a hand to lay it on top of Will's. "Yes, Will, you can trust me," he said softly, not relinquishing the other man's gaze. "I have my reasons for being here, some professional, some personal. But I assure you that they'll help you in the end."

Will nodded slowly, satisfied with that answer for now. It wasn't the time to push Everett for more answers, even though he was still curious.

"Now," Everett said, sounding more businesslike than ever, "the way for us to get started is to stop talking, and start doing. And the only way that we're going to do that is if you give me all the information you have as to how you came to be here. Tell me everything, Will."

Will took one deep breath, then another. He had to talk to Everett, had to trust him with everything. He had to tell this man about his dreams, about his memories.

It wouldn't be easy, but he would make himself do it.

Everett was on his side. He knew that. He could read it in this man's eyes, see it in his expression. This was a person who would fight for him.

That was what he needed at this point -- someone who was behind him in every possible way. That horrible FBI lawyer hadn't been; she had just wanted to throw him under the bus, and the other one had only cared about winning the case. Not about his innocence.

Everett, for some reason, actually seemed to care. This wasn't just about winning the case for him. There was something more. Something personal.

Whatever those reasons were, if they helped him, then he was willing to embrace them.

Everett was right. It was time to stop talking and start doing. And once they had talked, hopefully they'd have some sort of plan to put into motion.