I own nothing. All my Hannibal stories are also on my AO3 account, ThatGirlTheyKnow, and my writing blog on Tumblr, wordsareagirlsbestfriend.
The room they take Will to was clinical with stark white walls and two metal chairs separated by the sort of desk you would find in a school. Grey, black, and boring. Just like everything Will had been surrounded by these last few weeks.
They sit him down on one side of the desk and he plants his cuffed hands on the table in front of him. The guards would want his hands in his lap, but he likes to mess with them. They think he's a dangerous serial killer whose every move is a threat. He needs some entertainment, so he'll take their nervous expressions over the mind-numbing boredom.
"Why am I here?" he asks one of them, but is ignored, as per usual. They're not supposed to talk to him, or make eye contact with him, or even get too close to him. So he sits there for fifteen minutes while the guards talk quietly to each other, apparently awaiting a visitor. A psychiatrist who wants to pick his brain, perhaps, or Jack, asking him for a confession.
When the door of the room opens and Hannibal Lecter walks in, Will feels a ball of rage labelled "Lecter" expand and consume, and he wants nothing more than to strangle the man in front of him with the chain between his handcuffs. He wants to pummel the liar and the murderer to a pulp and make him confess to Will his sins. He wants to force an apology out of Lecter, an apology for the manipulations and the lies and the falseness in his declarations of "I love you."
Will does none of those things. He sits stiffly in his chair while Hannibal addresses the guards.
"You may leave now. I have been granted special permission to speak with Mr Graham alone. Those in charge of his case feel he would speak more freely without an audience."
The guards look unsure, but Hannibal Lecter knows a thing or two about asserting authority, whether he has it or not, and at a pointed look they scramble out of the room to take up positions outside the door.
"Hello, Will," Hannibal says as he takes the seat opposite him. He smiles pleasantly, almost fondly, like the man he was talking to wasn't his ex-lover who he had framed for multiple murders.
Will doesn't say anything. He's afraid he may curse, scream, and shout if he opens his mouth before he fully calms himself down.
"No answer? How… rude." Lecter smiles to himself. "Now, Will, I am here on Jack's request to coax a confession out of you. Alana Bloom would have been sent, but she is still not fully convinced of your guilt. Funny, isn't it? Even when all the evidence points your way, she holds hope. It makes me glad that we never told anybody about out… extra-curricular activities."
Will stares blankly into Hannibal's eyes, and sees everything he had refused to previously, and wishes he had killed him when he had the chance. The man is smiling at him still, and his eyes glint as though they're sharing an inside joke.
Hannibal continues talking. "Come now, Will, this won't work if you don't co-operate. One confession. I know you think you've been framed for all of the deaths, but surely you can see that Abigail Hobbs was your victim. Her ear was in the sink, Will. You killed her. If you confess to your crimes, William, it will make your sentence less harsh."
The use of 'William' is a low blow. The doctor had only ever used his full name when they were in bed together, had only ever moaned it quietly before a whisper of those fateful words that Will couldn't help but believe.
Hannibal opens his mouth, but Will cuts him off.
"I loved you. I had never loved anybody like I loved you. I thought I'd finally found somebody who accepted me and loved me for everything I was." He laughs at himself, at his stupidity.
Lecter stares at him. Tension fills the room, oppressive. "You did, William. I love you. I saw the beauty in your mind and in your soul and I feel deeply in love with it. I was going to change my plans; you were not supposed to end up here. But the end result is the same, I suppose. I am free."
"So you sacrificed the person you 'loved' for your own freedom? Lovely."
Hannibal smiles sadly. "I did. Self-preservation has always been at the front of my mind."
Will smiles back, animalistic and dangerous. "You disgust me."
"An unfortunate side-effect of this whole mess, I'm afraid. It pains me to see you in here, Will, and not with me, but it had to be done."
Will growls. "What were you going to change your plans to, Dr Lecter? Were you going to kill me when I figured it out? Were you going to kidnap me and keep me to yourself?"
The doctor is silent for a very long time, and they stare at each other while he contemplates his answer.
"I had hoped you would join me… in my… hobbies."
Will's anger fades away and his mouth drops open. "What?"
"I had hoped, William, that I could expose to you the darker parts of your soul, and encourage you to embrace the part of you that enjoyed killing Garrett Jacob Hobbs."
"Oh my god."
Will looks down at his hands and watches, detachedly, as they shake violently. He feels sick and lightheaded.
"I will go now, Will, if you are unwilling to confess." He hears Lecter stand up and walk around the table. The doctor puts one hand on his shoulder for a moment, and when Will can't find it in him to shake him off, he squeezes it once before walking to the door.
Before he leaves, Will speaks up. His voice is a harsh whisper. "You might get your wish one day, Hannibal Lecter," he hisses. "Because when I get out of here, I am going to track you down and tie you up and carve out your heart and that brilliant brain of yours. I am going to kill you slowly and savour the feeling. I am going to smile as the light leaves your eyes. I am going to get my revenge for what you've done to me, what you've done to my mind and my life and what and who I am."
"Really, Will?" He sounds curious.
Will looks up and their eyes meet again. He grins, all teeth and rage and mania.
"Really, Dr Lecter."