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Title: Terrible Vision
Pairing: Hannibal Lecter/Will Graham
Author's Note: Sequel to "Red on White."
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.
***"So, you're having visions that you think may be prophetic."
Hannibal leaned back in his chair, watching Will through narrowed eyes. "Will, you do realise that you may be jumping to the wrong conclusions."
Will nodded slowly, releasing a pent-up breath. "Yes, I know that," he answered, his voice very low. "But then again, I might not be wrong. Maybe I am starting to see visions of my own death. Maybe the death I see every day is coming for me."
"Death is eventually coming for all of us, Will." Hannibal's words were slow and deliberate, his voice calm. "We can none of us stop the advancing of age and the end of our lives."
Will shook his head, frowning. "That isn't what I mean."
He took a deep breath, wishing that he could explain what he was feeling. "I know that we're all going to come to the end of our lives. This is something more .... violent."
"So you see yourself dying of a violent act, and you are afraid that you may be having visions that will turn into reality." Hannibal's voice was still calm, with no edge of worry in it. "Will, I believe that you are reading far too much into this."
But WIll still shook his head, feeling frustrated that he couldn't make Hannibal understand the horror of what he had seen in that vision, the urgency of what he felt.
"Do you feel that someone could be after you, someone who intends you harm?" Now Hannibal leaned a bit towards him, a tone worry lacing through his words. "Will, if you honestly feel that, then you should talk to Jack about having some protection."
Will sighed softly; he had known that Hannibal would come up with that solution, the easy one. "I've thought about that. But if somebody wants to get to me that badly, then they will."
He hated hearing the words even as they came out of his own mouth.
Thinking that someone could want to kill him, to end his life, was terrifying. He had faced down murderers before, of course. It was part of the nature of his work; he came into close contact with killers and horrible people every day when he was in the field.
And he saw the aftermath of what they'd done, as well, he thought with a shudder. It was never something that he liked dealing with, but again, it was part of his work.
He just didn't want to think of that rage, that murderous intent, turned on him. But being who and what he was put him in the line of fire, and he had always known that. He was surprised that no killer had targeted him long before this.
If he was even being made a target, he thought with a sigh.
Maybe this was all in his own mind. Maybe he was just being paranoid, and what he'd seen in his mind was nothing more than a terrible vision.
But somehow, it had felt like much more than that. It had seemed that he was caught in the crosshairs, that someone was watching him and planning his demise. He had almost felt cold breath on the back of his neck; he'd felt that someone was watching, waiting ....
Will took a deep breath, pulling his mind back from the path that it had gone meandering down. He wasn't out there in the field right now; he wasn't working.
He was sitting here talking to Hannibal, and nothing was coming after him. For the moment, he was safe, in a place where he felt comfortable.
This was the time for him to analyze what he'd seen, and to try to figure out what it might mean. This was the time for him to reach out to Hannibal for help, not to push away all of his ideas and try to hide within his own mind. He couldn't keep doing that.
He had to let the people close to him help him, and for something like this, Hannibal, with his knowledge of psychiatry, was probably the best person to turn to for that help.
He had to open himself up, to listen.
"Will, worrying about this will do you no good," Hannibal told him, his voice more gentle than it usually was. "You don't need to lose any more sleep. I know that you have a hard enough time battling insomnia as it is, and this is only going to make things worse."
Will nodded reluctantly, sighing as he did so. "You're right about that. It's been getting harder and harder to fall asleep lately, and this isn't helping."
"A part of you does not want to fall asleep because you don't want to see your own death in your dreams," Hannibal told him, sounding more brisk and businesslike now. "So what you and I have to do is get to the bottom of these visions and find out why you are having them."
"I'd like to banish them for good," Will said, his voice very low, barely a whisper.
"We both would," Hannibal said, his tone soothing. He leaned forward, reaching out to put a hand on Will's knee. "Together, we can banish those visions, Will."
Will wasn't so sure of that; he was positive that it would take more than talking with Hannibal, opening up about his fears, to banish a vision that had come to him so suddenly and unexpectedly. He had a feeling that it was going to have a hold on him for a long time.
But Hannibal seemed to believe that the two of them, working together, could make it vanish, and if he was going to be positive about it, then Will would give it a try, too.
"Can you help me get rid of it?" He looked directly into those fathomless dark eyes, wishing that he could see behind them. He knew that Hannibal was capable of reading his own emotions in his blue eyes like a book, but he couldn't see into Hannibal's mind.
But then, he wasn't a trained psychiatrist. He didn't know what to look for. The only time he could see into another's mind was through his own peculiar gift.
A gift that had long since turned into more of a curse.
He didn't want to close his eyes when he went to bed tonight; if he did, he knew that he would see himself, lying under a white sheet, still and cold, covered with blood. He would see his own corpse, his own death, and nothing he could do would stop death from coming for him.
Will was sure that he would see that terrible vision even in his dreams, and that his mind would take it even further, creating new horrors to jolt him awake.
There was nothing he could do to stop them, nothing that Hannibal could do. He didn't really feel better now that he had talked to Hannibal; his psychiatrist's solutions to the problem seemed too pat, too easy. He didn't think the visions would disappear that easily.
Or maybe Hannibal didn't think it would be easy, either.
"So what do you think, Hannibal?" he asked, his voice still very soft. "Do you think I can get rid of these visions, and keep them from taking over my life?"
Hannibal nodded, his voice gentle when he spoke. "Yes, Will, I believe that you can. It won't be easy for you to do, but I believe that you have the strength to conquer your fears. And you know, that's all this is. It is a manifestation of what you fear most."
Will nodded, taking a deep breath before he spoke again. "Then I'll work on it. Just tell me what you think I should do, and I'll try my best."
He was rewarded with a smile, one that made his heart surge.
Hannibal believed in him. Hannibal thought that he could do this, even when he himself had his doubts about his own inner strength. There was someone out there who thought he was strong and capable, even when his own faith in himself faltered.
Hannibal would help him, and together, they would make this terrible vision cease to exist.
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