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Title: The Shattering
Pairing: Hannibal Lecter/Will Graham
Author's Note: Mentions of rape.
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. soar
***Will lay on his side, staring at the window, though the blinds and curtains were pulled tightly closed. No one would see the light from this room; no one would know he was here. No one would come to save him. Even Hannibal could never find him.
If Hannibal did come, he could very well die. That was the last thing Will wanted. A word without Hannibal in it didn't seem like a world worth living in.
But then, he wouldn't be living, would he? He already knew that his abductor planned to murder him. That had been made perfectly clear. If Hannibal didn't find him in time, they might both end up dead. And that wasn't something that he wanted to think about.
He didn't want to think about what had just been done to him, either. It wasn't the first time, but it had been the most painful -- aside from the first. The anger that had rained down on him had been unlike any he had ever seen; he'd feared for his life.
Will had kicked and struggled to avoid being stripped naked, but he should have known that it was useless to fight. He wasn't in a position to be defiant.
The anger in the man's eyes when he'd discovered the plug inside Will had been terrifying.
He'd pulled the plug out and thrown it across the room, then proceeded to slap Will as hard as he could. Will had curled into a ball, trying to hide his face from the blows, but that hadn't been possible. Even now, he could feel the bruise on one cheekbone, puffy and painful.
The words that had been thrown at him had been like punches. "You little whore. You're nothing but a slut. You should have been saving yourself, and you let him do .... this </i>to you. You'll be punished for that. You should have known better."</i>
There had been no lube, no preparation. Just a searing pain that had seemed to go through his entire body, each thrust like red-hot steel ripping him apart. Nothing that he and Hannibal had done together had prepared him for such pain, such violence.
He knew that it happened to men every day. But he'd never thought that this could happen to him. He'd never even considered it.
Rape had never been something that even entered his mind when it came to his personal space. He was always watchful at a crime scene, looking around carefully and carrying a gun, waiting for his space to be invaded by someone bent on violence.
But this was a kind of violence he'd never thought would be turned toward him. Why had he ever thought that no one would think of using rape as a way to overpower him? He'd seen it happen to other men; why had it never dawned on him that he could be so vulnerable?
He'd been a virgin the first time with Hannibal. He had thought Hannibal would be the only one.
What would Hannibal think about this when he found out? How would he feel? Would he think that Will had somehow betrayed him by letting another man be intimate with him?
No, he would never think like that, Will told himself, trying to make himself believe those words. Hannibal wouldn't blame him for what had been done to him. He would know that Will hadn't wanted this, that he had struggled against it.
No one in their right would believe that a person wanted to be raped. No one, that is, except a maniac like the man who had kidnapped and raped him. No one but a psycho who believed that Will had always been "waiting" for them to be together.
Of all the things he'd thought could possibly happen to him in the course of his field work with the FBI, this had been the last one. He hadn't even thought of it; being abducted, yes, being raped, no. He had never thought that he would be in this sort of situation.
He was waiting to shatter, to break into tiny pieces that would scatter over the ground. If that man touched him intimately again, it was bound to happen.
He was barely holding on to his sanity as it was. At the moment, if he could have opened his mouth to scream, he had a feeling that the sound would never stop. He would simply keep screaming, over and over again, and never be able to make himself stop.
The shattering had begun already. There were cracks in the facade.
He was tainted now. Used goods. Hannibal wouldn't want him again, not the way he would be when all of this was over -- if he survived it. Hannibal wouldn't want to be intimate with a man who'd been used in the way he had; Hannibal only wanted the best.
Will shifted his position slightly, trying to find a more comfortable way of lying down, but it was impossible His entire body ached; he felt as though he'd taken the worst beating of his life, not just once, but many times over. Everything hurt. It even hurt to think.
He had known that it was going to hurt. But he hadn't expected it to be like this. He hadn't expected to feel so completely violated, so .... unclean.
If he survived this, he didn't think that he could ever bear to let anyone touch him again -- not even Hannibal. He couldn't imagine that he would ever welcome the feel of anyone's hands on his body, much less the feeling of someone inside him.
Their relationship would effectively be over if they both lived through this. The thought made Will want to sob; he had so recently discovered the freedom and release that he'd always craved in Hannibal's arms, only to lose it so quickly.
He was never gong to be the same after this. He hadn't doubted that from the first moment he'd awakened and realized what a dire situation he was in. But he hadn't thought that he would feel so utterly demoralized -- or so completely hopeless.
Shifting again, Will tried to ignore the feeling of something wet trickling down his inner thighs. Was it blood? Or semen? He had no way of knowing.
All he knew was that any kind of movement hurt like hell.
He doubted that any bones were broken, but he was sure that he was bleeding after that last vicious attack. But did it really matter? If he was going to die, then he would be past caring about what had been done to his body. He would be past caring about anything.
No, he told himself fiercely, gingerly twisting his wrists against his bonds again, though he knew it was useless to try and loosen them. I'm not going to die. Not here. Not like this. He had to believe that. He couldn't give up hope.
Hannibal would find him. Hannibal would come to his rescue. If he didn't believe that, if he didn't hold on to the hope that somehow, Hannibal would put this situation to rights and take him out of here safely, then he would be lost. Without that hope, he might as well give up.
Hannibal wasn't some kind of superman. He knew that. But the other man seemed his best way -- his only way -- of getting out here alive. He knew that when Hannibal showed up, he wouldn't come here unprepared. He would have some kind of plan.
This man who had kidnapped him had greatly underestimated Hannibal. He didn't believe for a moment that anyone would be able to get the best of his lover.
Hannibal would be enraged at what had been done to him. He didn't know if the other man cared deeply for him, but he knew that there was at least some level of caring on Hannibal's part. He wouldn't let this go. He would be here.
He had to hold on to that though. It gave him hope. It gave him strength.
Without that hope, the shattering would begin, and he wouldn't be able to stop it. He couldn't let himself fall into that deep abyss of despair that his captor had tried to fashion for him. He might be teetering on the edge, but he wouldn't let himself fall into that darkness.
What was this man planning on doing to him? Will didn't want to think of all the ways he could die. A knife, a gun .... there were so many more, and all of them were unpleasant. He didn't want to consider death, not now. He had to think about living.
But that was hard to do when it felt like death was staring him in the face. Not only his own death, but very possibly Hannibal's, as well. Even though he had faith in his lover, there was always the possibility that he could be taken by surprise.
And if he was, then the game was up for both of them. He had to hope that Hannibal wouldn't let that happen, that he would somehow manage to prevail.
It was terrifying -- and frustrating -- to have to lie here helplessly, knowing that there was nothing he could do to stop whatever was going to happen. He was the pawn in all of this, and he was completely helpless to influence the outcome in any way.
At the moment, he was in too much pain to even sit up. All he could do was lie here, hoping and praying that Hannibal would find a way out for them both. He had to put all of his faith in Hannibal; he had nowhere else to turn, nothing else to cling to.
Hannibal was the only light in the darkness that was closing in on him.
Will closed his eyes, feeling a wave of hopelessness wash over him. So far, it appeared that his captor held all the cards -- there was no way that Hannibal could know what was waiting for him. Was he being used as bait to lure the other man into a trap that he couldn't escape from?
He couldn't let himself think like that. He had to believe that Hannibal would outwit this man, and that they would both get out of this safely.
Hannibal wasn't going to let him die. And he certainly wasn't going to turn over his own life to this psychotic rapist, Will told himself firmly. He had to hold on to the small shred of hope that Hannibal had a plan, that he would save them both.
The shattering had already begun, but Hannibal could stop it. Will only hoped that he would get here in time to do so, and that he wasn't holding onto a vain hope. He didn't want to believe that the next few hours would be his last, but it was starting to look that way.
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