Letters, a hannibal fanfic

Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with Hannibal except this story.

Letters

A hand gently took his own and pulled it off the arm of the chair, placing a glass of red wine into the palm. Will looks up and brings the glass to his lips with a smile. Hannibal smiles back at him and keeps his eyes on his friend as the wine is drained.

Bound and gagged, Will closes his eyes. This wasn't the way it was supposed to be. He was the one who saw everything and yet it was he who had been blindsided.

"Call her."

"What?"

"Alana. You should really call her."

"No… it would never work. I'm damaged goods."

"Maybe she's a little damaged too."

"Dangerous game you're playing Will."

"Yes, well, someone's got to play it."

"You are quite right, my friend. And may the monsters of this world tremble in righteous fear."

Early mornings were the best times. Will would get up with the sun and let all of his dogs out to romp in the fresh white snow. He was gripping a cup of coffee and staring out at the forest when his dogs began to bark. He turned in time to recognize the car pulling up into his driveway. Will smiled. Perhaps Hannibal had brought him breakfast.

Friends were strange and fragile things. Hannibal knew this better than anyone. In fact, it had been a very long time since he had considered anyone even close to a friend. Will reached him though. As Hannibal looked up at his friend shifting through the books on his many shelves, he couldn't help but grin. Friends were hard to come by. He would have to make sure that he took care of his.

Game. That's what this killer thought this was. A game. Will clenched and unclenched his hands, trying to get the feeling of chocking that poor girl from them. Well, if was a game that this killer wanted, then Will would give him one hell of a run for his money.

Hannibal raised an eyebrow as the sound of a knock vibrated through this study. He glanced at the clock. His visitor had better have a good reason for visiting at ten at night without calling. Rising, Hannibal made his way gracefully over to the door and opened it. The tension left his body. Ahh, there was no longer an explanation needed. Will stood there, shoulders hunched and curls dripping rain water. He looked up at Hannibal with a pleading look. Hannibal opened the door further.

"It seems perhaps some tea and a blanket are in order."

"I don't care what this freak says, my men don't follow leads without solid evidence!" spluttered the officer.

"I would thank you not to refer to my man in such a manner," Jack said as Hannibal placed a hand on Will's shoulder and guided him away, "I would trust Will Graham over any other man. It would be in your best interest to do the same."

Hannibal leaned down so that his lips almost touched Will's ear.

"That is an incredibly rude man. Someone really ought to teach him some manners."

Jack knows that he is killing Will Graham. This is one of two undeniable truths. The other is that he can't let Will go. Jack is a man of reason. Will Graham saves lives, even at the expense of his own.

Killing and kissing are similar activities for Hannibal Lecter. Both are intimate and works of art. He kisses Alana Bloom and dreams of killing her. When he presses his lips into Will's hair just for the briefest of moments while his friends dozes in his chair, Hannibal wonders what it would be like to kill him too. Or perhaps, what it would mean to kill for him.

Life is fleeting and fragile. Will knows this. So why does he spend his chasing killers?

Because he is the only one who can.

"My mother used to say that."

"Are you comparing me to your mother, William?"

"No. But you are about as close to family as I've got."

"Nonsense, Will. Your mind is yours and yours alone," Hannibal said from his chair, watching as his friend wore a circle into his carpet with his ceaseless pacing.

"I feel like my mind is a library, Dr. Lecter," replied Will through gritted teeth, "And more and more people are checking out books."

Other than Will, Hannibal really could not bring himself to care. All his life he had watched death as an interested third party and observed the grief and trauma that it brought. There wasn't anyone in Hannibal's life that he would miss. There wasn't anyone who he wouldn't bring to Death's gate himself. Except Will of course. But then again, Will was special.

"Perfect," purred Hannibal and Will threw him a grin.

"Quiet" said Hannibal as he ran a hand through the dark curls. Will shifted in his sleep but his restless noises ceased as Hannibal rubbed a gentle circle into his hair.

Rest was not something that came easily to Will. He was plagued by dreams and doubts.

Hannibal however, always slept soundly. There were no worries to weigh on his mind.

"Scary isn't it?"

"Scary? To what are you refereeing Ms. Katz?"

"Your job. I mean after all, you are a therapist. You didn't sign up for all this death and gore."

"I wouldn't say it's scary. More like…Insightful."

Together they could become something that the world had never witnessed before.

Ultimately, Hannibal isn't sure what his goals with Will are. His relationship with the fascinating FBI consultant is ever changing and Hannibal isn't sure where they will end up. Greatest enemies or greatest friends, one thing Hannibal is fairly certain about is that their story with end with blood.

Vocations were a funny thing. Some people believed that everyone had one particular job in this world and that was it. Will hoped they were wrong. He hoped there could be something more for him then becoming killers. If not, what did that say about him?

Wishes were not Hannibal's typical way of thinking. They were useless really. If one did not have the ability to work and achieve success on their own then they did not deserve it. Still, once in a while, Hannibal caught himself wishing that one day soon Will would come to him and their lives could truly begin.

X rays were not Will's favorite things. They were too invasive. Besides, how could a machine come to understand a mind like his?

"Your move Will."

"I never had the patience for chess."

"Nonsense. You are doing quite well."

"Well, I have a good teacher."

"There are a great many things that I can teach you, Will."

Zero. That is what they would be without each other. Nothing at all.

A/N: Just a short little story that I hope you enjoyed. Please review!