Author's Note:

Pairing: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter

Warnings: References to murder and cannibalism, dark!Will, minor violence

Edit: Once a one-shot, now a multi-chapter story.

Disclaimer: Hannibal belongs to Bryan Fuller and NBC. The original characters are the property of Thomas Harris. I own nothing but the plot and make no money from this story.

He was laying face-down on the bed when Starling stopped in front of the plexiglass. She paused and glanced back down the hall, wondering if maybe he'd smothered himself... no, that seemed against what Crawford had told her about the man. Maybe he was just... in his head.

She took another moment to stare at him- at his off-white jumpsuit, the short mess of curls atop his head, the one arm dangling over the edge of the short, narrow bunk. Then, she cleared her throat and tapped on the glass.

He sat up immediately and turned to face her. She saw the scar first, curling around the right side of his cheek. There was another on his forehead, thin and clean. His face was scruffy, like he hadn't been given the option to shave over two or so days. Then blue eyes met hers, dark and startling, and she almost took a step back. Starling managed to steel herself, though; she'd faced down crazy men before.

Granted, none of them had been incarcerated for murder, cannibalism, and trying to evade FBI custody with their convicted-murderer partner.

'Mr Graham,' she said.

He tilted his head. Blinked. Then a slow smile spread over his face. 'Please, call me Will.' He stood and stretched before rearranging his jumpsuit. 'You're Jack's new pet agent,' he said. Starling tried not to bristle at the nickname. 'I don't know your name,' he continued as he approached the glass, 'Jack didn't give me that much when he mentioned you. Hannibal might know, but he hasn't parted with it.'

Hannibal. Hannibal Lecter, his former psychiatrist/friend turned enemy then lover and... murder husband, as Freddie Lounds had dubbed the two. Graham and Lecter had only managed to kill four people before being caught; their injuries after killing Francis Dolarhyde had slowed them down.

Still, the FBI had stormed a small hotel room and found them eating one of their victims. Starling had to remind herself that Will Graham was a dangerous, deranged man; a psychopath, or just nuts at least. He looks harmless, Carwford had told her only an hour earlier. And he can easily read you; become your father, your mother, your best friend... you. Don't trust him as far as you can throw him, Starling. In some ways he's worse than Lecter.

Starling wondered if it was because Graham looked normal in a way Lecter didn't. Lecter could blend in with the people he surrounded himself with... Graham could become them.

'Clarice Starling,' she finally said, cutting the silence that had fallen.

Graham was still staring at her, and he'd moved closer to the glass, was now standing before the steel table bolted to the floor about a foot from the door that would grant him his freedom if only he could open it. 'Why are you here?' Graham asked. 'And why did Dr Chen let you in? He isn't a pushover like some... other BSHC administrators.'

Starling thought of Dr Chilton, almost completely melted down to his bones, and Dr Bloom, who'd disappeared with her wife and young son soon after Lecter's escape.

'Consulting with psychopaths has never gone... well, for Jack,' Graham added, a quirk to his lips. His eyes had taken on an almost feral look, and Starling swallowed.

'Catching a psychopath is worth the risk of conversing with another,' she stated.

'Ah.' Graham hummed and took two steps back until he could sit on the table. 'And why not consult Hannibal? I've been told that he's easier to get along with than I am.'

Crawford had told her that, actually. The cannibal was more accommodating than the former profiler.

'He's busy,' Starling said. 'Dr Chen told me that his morning's booked.'

Graham smiled again. 'He's releasing a new book,' he said. 'His agent must need him. And this afternoon we have a conjugal visit.'

Starling wet her lips at that. She still remembered the raw rage in Jack Crawford's eyes when he'd told her that; the killers had somehow gotten married after their escape. The marriage licence seemed to be real, despite the fact that both men's faces had been plastered all over the news shortly after Dolarhyde's body had been found.

'Yes,' Starling said.

'So I'm the next best thing,' Graham said. When she looked at him he was grinning, seeming amused.

'I wouldn't say that,' Starling said. 'You were the best at what you did, Mr Graham.'

'Will,' he told her again. 'And yes, I was the best... and look what happened to me.' He gestured around at his cell.

'I think Dr Lecter led to your current situation more than yourself, Mr Graham,' Starling stated.

For the first time since meeting him, Graham's entire demeanour changed completely. Suddenly he was standing once more, and there was an energy about him that made Starling want to step back and draw a weapon she didn't have. He approached her once more, got all the way up to the glass and stared at her. Starling bit the inside of her cheek to stop a full body shiver as his eyes bored into hers.

'Don't mistake yourself into think that Hannibal's wholly responsible for what I am,' Graham growled at her. 'That was Jack's mistake; poor Will Graham, manipulated by a man he thought he could trust. I was always damaged, Agent Starling. I won't deny that Hannibal played a role in bringing my darker urges to the surface. But I was always capable of things that would haunt you at night. Hannibal simply gave me a push or two.'

Starling lifted her chin and kept her gaze on his. 'Are you saying that you would have become a cold-blooded murderer even if you hadn't met Dr Lecter?'

Graham's lips twisted into a feral grin, and he said, 'Oh, I definitely would have become a killer, even without Hannibal's influence. I just would have killed more people before I was caught; I would have made art before the FBI caught onto me. I wouldn't have eaten my victims' organs, though. That's Hannibal's personal signature.'

Her coffee threatened to make a reappearance. Starling had studied the Lecter case, the Graham case, the Lecter-Graham case. Their files were thick and took up their own filing cabinet as well as a number of folders on every FBI computer. Their murders were studied by FBI trainees at the Academy. It was both a subject and a warning; don't let killers get to you, look what you could become. Don't trust someone just because they seem nice.

Psychopaths look just like us.

Graham leaned back from the glass and pasted another smile on his face. His shoulders drooped and his face adapted an overall look of compassion and softness. It seemed to say, Me? You can trust me. I wouldn't hurt a fly. Look how fuzzy I am.

Once again, Crawford's warnings blared in Starling's ears.

Starling decided to cut to the chase, not wanting to spend more time than necessary with Will Graham. 'Would you be willing to consult on a case I'm currently working?' she questioned. She held up the file she'd brought and Graham's eyes briefly flicked to it.

'Working on,' he echoed. 'Are you a fully-fledged agent, Miss Clarice Starling? Or a trainee?'

She paused before deciding to go with honesty; 'Trainee. I'll be graduating soon.'

Graham's eyebrows shot up and then he laughed. 'A trainee?' He chuckled, then, and shook his head. 'Oh, you're very lucky that Hannibal's busy.'

'And why is that?' she asked.

'He would be furious,' Graham said. He went back to sit on the table and swung his legs like he didn't have a care in the world. He probably didn't, now that Starling thought about it. There were a lot of books in his cell, as well as fishing lures tucked away in the corner. What else did Graham have to do to pass away the long days spent locked up? 'Jack sent me after him, and I was his friend, his partner, his... becoming, you could say,' Graham said. 'You? You're fresh, and young, and you have no idea what you've walked into.'

He held up a hand to forestall the comment she was about to make.

'I'm not saying that you aren't fully capable, Agent Starling,' he said. 'You could be the best agent the FBI Academy ever produces; I don't care enough to look to closely. But you're a trainee. Hannibal wouldn't appreciate Jack throwing you at him, at us... he'd find it despicably rude.' Graham tilted his head as he stared at her. 'We both know what Hannibal does with rude people, Agent Starling.'

He tilted his head the other way, hummed.

'Mr Graham?'

'Your parents died when you were young, didn't they?' he commented. Starling stiffened. 'No,' he then corrected himself. 'Just one... father?' She must have done something- shifted, twitched an eye, something- because he nodded. 'Father. And your mother left when you were young. Not dead, but gone. You like to prove yourself, don't you? You're completely capable, have made yourself completely capable, and never back down from a challenge. And you aren't afraid of a challenge, which is why you're standing here, asking me to consult on a case, when Jack could have easily asked himself.'

Graham smiled. 'Jack doesn't like visiting me, Agent Starling. I'm both a failure and a reminder that he missed what I really am- missed what Hannibal really is.' He paused, then added, 'I don't like that he's sent you. You're going to end up too old for your years; broken before you have a chance to live. It happens to most FBI agents; you can't work brutal murders and remain sane. But usually you get a few good years in.'

He hopped off the table and approached the door before Starling could utter a word. 'Give me the file,' he ordered.

Starling felt shaken, but tried not to show it. There was a steel tray in the door that slid out, and she placed the folder into it before closing and locking it. She watched Graham open the tray from his side and lift the folder out. He flicked through the photos and notes while she stared at him.

She'd lost complete control of this confrontation, and Starling wasn't sure how to get that control back. Had she ever had it in the first place? Crawford had warned her that Graham was... odd, highly intelligent, brutal and blunt. But he hadn't mentioned how utterly hopeless she'd feel in his presence after a few simple sentences.

'Hmm.' Graham started humming and muttering as he stared at the file. He did that for a minute, two, before placing the file on his desk. He spread the photos of the crime scenes out and placed his hands, palms flat, on the far edges of the table. His back to her, Starling watched him breathe in deeply and then go completely still.

More minutes passed- Starling glanced down at her watch every few minutes, until twelve went by. Then Graham gasped and seemed to come back to himself; he slid the photos back into the file and turned to face her.

'A man, late thirties, he doesn't consider himself human.' Graham paused. 'But he doesn't know what he is, thus he's killing people and creating animals, objects.' He waved the file at her. 'He sees some people as human, some as animals, some as things. He hates them, because to him they know what they are, and he can't handle that. He needs to figure out what he is or he'll never be complete. He won't stop killing until he knows what he is.' He raised his eyebrows at her.

Starling wasn't sure what she wanted him to say until he put the file back in the tray.

'He'll keep killing because he'll never figure out what he is,' she realised.

Graham smiled at her. 'He's human, as much as he doesn't believe it,' he commented.

'Do you know where we might find him?' Starling asked.

'No,' Graham said. 'He's targeting random people; there won't ever be a pattern, because his psychosis is making him see most people as people. He isn't going to kill a "proper human", as he would dub them.' He paused and then placed his hands on the glass, leaning closer. 'I'm afraid I can't help you beyond that, Agent Starling,' he said. His eyes held hers. 'But Hannibal can. Why don't you come back and see him tomorrow? He'll be free then.'

Starling didn't want to see Lecter. She'd been told that he was slightly easier to speak with than Graham, but she was already regretting talking to the this man. She didn't want to talk to Lecter as well...

But Starling had never backed down from a challenge. And breaking this case could be the start of a great career.

'I will,' she finally said. Graham grinned at her, and she felt like she'd lost whatever game Graham had been playing with her. 'Thank you for your help, Mr Graham.'

'Any time, Agent Starling,' he responded. 'I look forward to seeing you tomorrow.'

She took the file back and walked away, aware of Graham's eyes on her the entire time. She turned to look into Lecter's cell as she left; it was opposite Graham's, the entire floor having been redesigned after Lecter's first escape.

It was empty, identical to Graham's, but with more books as well as art supplies and drawings taped to the far wall.

Starling made her way downstairs, nodding at the orderlies, then security when she collected her belongings. Starling stepped out of the building and shivered despite the heat. She felt like she'd just met the devil, despite Graham's generally affable nature whilst talking to her. She felt like a piece of her had been left behind...

Or taken.

Author's Note: I DON'T KNOW WHAT THIS IS! I saw fan art on Tumblr and I just wrote this...I haven't seen anything of Hannibal season three beyond half of episode one, but thanks to Tumblr I more or less know what happens, so... yeah. I don't know, dudes. Just read and enjoy... or don't, whatever floats your boat...

I need to stop writing after staying up for two days straight.

IBegToDreamAndDiffer