Author's Note:

Pairing: Hannibal Lecter/Will Graham [pre-slash]

Warnings: Mentions of murder and torture, cannibalism, dark!Will

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

Hannibal Lecter was blank. Completely, infuriatingly blank. Will frowned to himself as he shifted back in his seat. His students were talking quietly amongst themselves, the odd sentence or rustle of paper reaching Will's ears. The first half of his class had been a lecture, the second half left free for the trainees to work on their next paper either alone or with their classmates. They bored Will, though, and he'd built up a reputation of being extremely difficult to talk to. Some students tried, were brave enough to hang around after class and talk to their reclusive lecturer. Mostly they just left him be. Will preferred it that way.

His mind was once more drawn back to the enigma that was Doctor Hannibal Lecter. Will had never had a problem reading someone; he still remembered the first time it had happened. He'd been five, his dad had been drunk, and after pushing him onto the moth-eaten sofa in their living room, Will had caught his father's gaze. There had been so much anger and hate and sorrow there that Will hadn't been able to shake it off for a good two weeks. It had been the beginning of the end for Will Graham; the thing that had sparked his empathy, had brought it into the open. Since then Will had been fighting against every human he came across, trying to block their emotions, their secrets, out of his own mind.

It had been an uphill battle from the beginning, one that Will had lost when he was in his mid twenties. It had been so much easier to let them in, to bask in the emotions that weren't his own. When his mind stopped fighting, it started living, tasting the delicious secrets every human tried to hide behind a mask of goodness and normality.

Diving into the minds of killers and criminals had been a different battle, one filled with blood and hatred and sheer terror, Will's mind still trying to cling to something, anything good. But Will had given up to that, too. He didn't think himself a truly terrible person, but Will was far from good. He might not have killed anyone himself, but he still bathed in the metaphorical blood of other killer's victims. He let their own twisted desires become his desires, and he spent the time afterwards alone, humming as his eyes closed and his mind devoured the treats that had seemingly been left just for him.

Hannibal Lecter. The apparently blank man. It was puzzling, Will thought, irritating. He'd never had a problem reading anyone. Even Jack Crawford, a man who had a rather good handle on controlling his basest desires, was still easy pickings for Will. One glimpse, a few seconds of eye contact, and Will knew exactly what Jack was feeling.

Will had to wonder what Hannibal Lecter had to hide. It was as though the man was wearing a person suit; a perfect replica of the humanity surrounding them, a wolf in sheep's clothing, Will supposed. Maybe Hannibal Lecter was so very different that every morning he had to slip a mask on just to hide amongst the normal people. But it went further then that; his very mind was a mask, too, or a mirror; crafted to reflect back what other people felt. Crafted to present a well-bred, highly intelligent man that was as ordinary as everybody else.

Will didn't doubt that Lecter was intelligent. He'd googled the man, and he was well respected amongst psychiatric circles. He'd been a medical doctor years ago, what kind Will wasn't sure, but he'd left it to move into the human mind. He obviously had money, if the sweater and suit combination he'd worn was anything to go by, and he had experience with people like Will; not Will exactly, but people with similar disorders. Will couldn't place his accent, it was something European, but the man had obviously moved to America to make a name for himself, to cultivate whatever talents hid behind that mask of humanity.

Will was brought from his musings by his students all standing, shuffling about to pack up their books and notes and head out. Will kept his eyes on the walls, the floors, occasionally nodding to a trainee when one of them looked at his face. Soon enough he was alone, able to focus entirely on the mystery of Lecter once more.

What are you hiding? Will thought as he stretched. He had to wonder if Lecter was as boring and plain as the mask he projected claimed, or if he was something like Will.

Perhaps, he was something even darker.

{oOo}

Oh, it was beautiful. Even the crows trying to peck away at the body added another layer of artistry, as though the killer himself had let the birds out to dissect and flap around the present he'd left. And it was a present. All for Will.

Will stared for a bit, completely entranced, until Jack started talking, his team joining in.

The Shrike? No, no, this wasn't the same killer. This was a gift to Will, a presentation, something to show Will what he'd been missing. And he'd found it, all the little clues floating around his mind finally clicking into place.

'He wanted her found this way,' he murmured as he stepped closer to the body, eyes gorging themselves on the pristine skin, the little rivulets of blood, the horns pierced through flesh. 'Petulant,' he added when the feeling speared through him.

He didn't have to close his eyes, let the pendulum swing, not for this. It was so transparent, a perfect negative, that Will didn't understand how the others couldn't see how very different this kill was.

'I almost feel like he's mocking her...' he added as he leaned down. No, he knew. 'Or mocking us,' he murmured.

'Where did all his love go?' Jack asked, voice soft.

Will managed to tuck away his scowl as he said, 'Whoever tucked Elise Nichols into bed didn't paint this picture.'

Jack, his team, all stared at Will as though he was insane. Will was too used to it to truly care, but his hate of the human race as a whole was steadily growing. Were they all so blind that they couldn't see a gift when it'd been wrapped and dumped here just for them?

'Our cannibal loves women,' Will said of the Shrike, 'he doesn't want to destroy them, he wants to consume them. Keep some part of them inside.' He stood back up and gestured to the victim. 'This girl's killer thought that she was a pig.'

He started walking away, already having gathered what he needed.

'You think this was a copycat?' Jack called from behind him.

'The cannibal who killed Elise Nichols had a place to do it, and no interest in... in field kabuki,' Will said. They all continued to stare, and Will bit back his irritation as he explained what the copycat had helped him see. The Shrike was as bland and boring as every other serial killer, and Will listed what he'd finally figured out, ignoring the wrong that he could feel coming from each and every one of them. Jack might have no problem using Will, but even he felt uncomfortable when truly reminded of what Will could do.

'What about the copycat?' Jack demanded when Will, once again, tried to leave.

He couldn't hide his distaste any longer, but knew that it came across as disgust over the copycat, not over Jack and his team. 'You know, an intelligent psychopath, particularly a sadist- very hard to catch. No traceable motive, there'll be no patterns, he may never kill this way again.' He started walking again, but couldn't help but throw over his shoulder, 'Have Dr Lecter draw up a psychological profile, you seemed very interested in his opinion.'

Will was finally allowed to leave, and made his way back to Jack's car. He'd driven to Minnesota with Jack, and as such had to wait around until the agent was done to leave. Will had been rented a little hotel room a few miles away, and was looking forward to being left alone to digest everything he'd seen today.

A copycat. Someone who knew the Minnesota Shrike's case, so much so that he was able to leave a negative for Will to peer at. The lack of emotions showed Will what the real Shrike was feeling, why he killed the girls, what he was truly doing with them. Someone out there had figured it out before Will, and had left a gift so that Will could figure it out, too.

It was a puzzle; a gruesome puzzle, but a puzzle nonetheless. Somebody out there knew that Will had needed a little push, a little more, to figure out what was happening, and had gifted it to him, complete with blood and antlers.

Will sighed and scrubbed his face as he climbed into Jack's car. Whoever the copycat was knew enough about Jack's team, and Will, to do this. There couldn't be many people on that list.

{oOo}

A knock on the hotel door brought Will out of his thoughts, and he made sure to look tired and slightly out of it as he pulled the door open. The sun was barely glancing through the thick curtain of clouds overhead, but it was enough for Will to take in the rather impressive form of Dr Lecter.

The man was dressed well in a suit and jacket, which didn't surprise Will. The fact that he was actually here was a little weird, but whatever.

'Good morning, Will,' Lecter spoke first. 'May I come in?'

Will glanced over Lecter's shoulder. 'Where's Crawford?'

'Deposed in court,' the older man explained, 'the adventure will be yours and mine today.' Lecter glanced around, taking in the small hotel room, before looking at Will once more. 'May I come in?'

He was as perfectly blank and human as when they'd first met, and Will was intrigued. He didn't nod or say anything, just searched Lecter's eyes (devoid of anything) for a second before stepping back.

They were quiet as Will opened the curtains to let some light in, and as Lecter made himself comfortable at the very small table in the room. He opened his bag to withdraw expensive-looking Tupperware containers, which he explained held breakfast he'd cooked himself.

Will wasn't really paying all that much attention until he took his first bite. The sausage was delicious, seasoned with something Will couldn't name, and he told Lecter as much.

'Thank you,' Lecter replied, but as usual the true emotions that usually accompanied anyone's words weren't there. So Will glanced up, and what he saw was... fascinating.

The mask Lecter wore had peeled back ever so slightly, a monster truly horrific in nature just peeking out. It was bathed in blood and murder, its entire nature soaked in the thick, spilled red of others. What existed in the hollowness of Lecter's mind was something so absolutely horrifying that Will nearly spat his eggs and sausage out.

Oh, Will thought, oh that is beautiful.

It was similar to what Will had seen in the past, but mostly something wholly unique, something that Lecter was so very good at hiding, only letting it out when its blood lust became something he couldn't- or wouldn't- control.

Lecter was talking, offering apologies for something he couldn't turn off, and Will replied like he was paying attention to the man's words instead of his eyes. The monster was still there, staring at Will hungrily. But it didn't want to consume him, at least not as a victim. It wanted to craft Will into something new, something dark, something that belonged to Hannibal Lecter.

Too bad that Will had already moulded himself into... whatever it was he was. Not a killer, not truly, but certainly not human.

'Or we could socialise like adults,' Lecter said and slid eggs into his mouth, chewing slightly before he added, 'God forbid we become friendly.'

Will nearly smiled as he looked into his coffee. He felt Lecter's eyes on him, both vaguely human and monster, each as curious about Will as Will was about them. 'I don't find you that interesting,' Will said, just to see the reaction.

Lecter stared for a moment, and his face would have appeared blank to anyone other than Will. 'You will,' he finally said, and Will bit the inside of his cheek.

I already do, he thought.

'Agent Crawford tells me you have a knack for the monsters,' Lecter continued after a beat, his eyes drifting back to his breakfast.

Will pushed his own aside, wanting to see Lecter's face when he spoke. 'I don't think the Shrike killed that girl in the field.'

Lecter looked up at him, and Will knew he had his attention now. There was a small bit of surprise there, but mostly satisfaction, the monster dwelling within Lecter both pleased and curious as to how Will had figured it out.

'The devil is in the details,' Lecter said, arms circled around his container. 'What didn't your copycat do to the girl in the field? What gave it away?'

'Everything,' Will said quickly. 'It's like he had to show me a negative so I could see the positive, it-' He cut himself off to wipe his face, and peeked at Lecter from between his fingers. Oh, he was fascinated, both the man and the monster practically salivating at the chance to discuss the murder. 'That crime scene was practically gift-wrapped,' Will added.

Lecter immediately sat back, eyes not reflecting the slight surprise his body did. 'The mathematics of human behaviour. All those ugly variables. Some bad math, with this Shrike fellow, huh?' Will glanced up at him as he poured more coffee. 'Are you reconstructing his fantasies?' Lecter asked.

Will paused, just slightly, as he met Lecter's eyes. Oh... oh.

The monster was jealous. It had practically preened under Will's gaze, wanting attention, Lecter not realising what he was doing, at least not fully. The monster and man both wanted Will's attention, now that they had gained a small taste of what Will was capable of. But they wanted all of Will, everything he had to offer. They didn't want to share.

Oh.

Will didn't know what Lecter was, not completely, but he knew this. Lecter was the copycat; had gone and killed an innocent girl to show Will what he was missing.

'What kind of problems does he have?' Lecter added, unaware of what Will had realised.

Will chuckled, more out of realisation than Lecter's words. 'Heh, ah, a few,' he murmured into his coffee. He wanted to smile. He wanted to leap forward and grab Lecter, make the doctor realise what he'd seen. He wanted to dive into Lecter's mind completely and swim in blood with the monster he kept so well hidden.

Instead he sipped his coffee.

'Do you ever have any problems, Will?' Lecter asked.

Will nearly snorted and pressed a hand to his chest. 'No.' Oh, only too much fascination with killers, dark urges of my own, and a need to understand the highly-functioning psychopath currently sharing breakfast with me.

Huh. Will glanced down at his half-eaten meal. The copycat had taken her lungs, while she was still alive. Why would he do that?

Will peered closer at the sausage as Lecter spoke.

Oh, well then. Not just a psychopath, but a cannibal, too. Hannibal Lecter just got more and more fascinating.

'Of course you don't,' Lecter said, sounding more amused than anything. He leaned forward, closing a bit of the distance between them. 'You and I are just like... problem free. Nothing about us to feel horrible about.'

Will glanced down at the sausage currently speared on his fork. No, he thought, I just love delving into the minds of serial killers, and you like butchering and eating people. Nothing horrible there.

Will wondered if he should feel horrified over the fact that he was eating people, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Dr Hannibal Lecter's mind was the most delicious he'd ever sampled, and Will wanted to taste more.

Lecter watched as Will took another bite, the monster satisfied, the man equally so.

'You know, Will,' Lecter said, 'I think Uncle Jack sees you as a fragile little teacup.' Will smiled slightly. 'The finest china used for only special guests.' Will did laugh at that. He was far from fragile. Years ago, when he'd still been fighting the pleasure he felt at reconstructing horrific murders, yes; Will was definitely fragile back then. But that was a long time ago.

It was just too funny not to laugh at. He had to wonder if Lecter saw him as fragile, too; something to break before he could be re-built into whatever Lecter wanted. It was far too late for that.

Will had to ask. 'How do you see me?'

Lecter met his eyes. They were an odd shade of brown-red, sanguine, Will supposed, and so dark, so delicious, that Will had to push down a shiver. He wondered if Lecter was aware that his mask was slipping the longer he spent in Will's company. It was still up, would fool anyone else, but now, now Will could see.

The longer Lecter stared, the more Will could see.

'The mongoose I want under the house,' Lecter said, 'when the snakes slither by.'

Will stared back, but let confusion wash over his face, just a little, just to satisfy whatever game Lecter was playing.

'Finish your breakfast,' the older man said when he'd had his fill, and Will did after a beat, eyes not wandering from Lecter's face.

Other feelings were crawling through Will now, some his own, some belonging to the human suit sitting across from him. Satisfaction and intrigue on both their parts, a healthy dose of want that would no doubt manifest into need the longer they spent in each other's company. There was also a sliver of lust, and Will was silent as he tried to figure out if it was his own or Lecter's.

Will rarely felt lust, having to constantly deal with the petty needs and wants of all those around. He was sure that Lecter was the same; it was difficult to truly want another person when you viewed them as swine just waiting to be butchered. He didn't doubt that Lecter had sought out what his body had needed on the rare occasion that that want made itself known. He wondered if Lecter wanted him; wanted to own Will not just in mind, but in body, too.

Surprisingly Will found that he wanted it; wanted Lecter to want him. Wanted the older man above and in him, their monsters staring at each other with no masks, no lies, between them. He wanted to share whatever it was they both felt while knowing what the other was completely.

Will stuffed eggs and sausage into his mouth, chewing and tasting whatever seasoning Lecter had used.

Hannibal, Will supposed he should call the other man, at least in his own mind. He knew that Hannibal wouldn't let him go, not now; not when Will had figured out the gift that Hannibal had left him.

Hannibal just hadn't realised that Will had no intention of letting him go, either.

{oOo}

Will hadn't expected both himself to be exposed to Hannibal so quickly. He'd known that there would be violence involved, blood dripping and the stench of death still thick in the air. He just hadn't thought that it'd be him spilling blood, watching afterwards as the life left the Minnesota Shrike's Golden Ticket.

She was a beautiful girl, so young, her entire life ahead of her. But Will could read the deceit in her eyes, the lamb pulled over a growing wolf. She was just a pup, now, a cub; something her father had made grow as he tried to keep himself from outright destroying her.

A part of Will- a small part- wanted to wrap his hand around her throat and save her, see what she could truly become. But a larger part, the part that sank into the blood and darkness Will was exposed to, wanted to watch the life drain out of her.

He did just that, staring with darkened eyes, as the girl reached for him with a shaky hand, trying to get him to save her. Will didn't. He just stared, and continued to do so when Hannibal stepped into the room. He was still clean, suit pristine, only the faint smudges of blood on his fingertips showing that he'd touched the wife after she'd died.

Hannibal made no move to save the girl either. His eyes danced between her and Will, the monster loving the blood and gore, the way Will was completely consumed by what he was seeing.

When Will finally met his eyes, Hannibal nearly gasped, his own eyes widening only slightly as he realised that Will was already a monster, one different to Hannibal's, but a monster all the same. Will let a very small, very cruel smile tug at his lips, and Hannibal's eyes turned red and hungry, his mask almost slipping away completely.

But there was no time. They had to call Jack and get this entire mess sorted out. Will would have to play the scared, shaken profiler who hadn't wanted to kill but had been forced to.

'We were too late to save her,' Hannibal spoke, pulling Will from his thoughts. Will glanced down at the girl and saw the light finally leaving her eyes, eyes that were terrified because they hadn't helped her.

'Yeah,' Will agreed. Hannibal's eyes were still on him, drinking him in. Will stood from where he'd crouched beside the girl. 'Yeah,' he repeated.

As he passed Hannibal, he heard the man inhale deeply, no doubt scenting the blood, the fear from the girl, and the satisfaction that practically rolled off of Will in waves. Will smirked as he walked.

{oOo}

'Are you going to clear me for duty?' Will asked as he wandered around the loft in Hannibal's office.

'Is there a reason I shouldn't?' Hannibal queried, looking up at him.

Will laughed under his breath. 'I killed someone,' he stated, 'and you know that I liked it.'

Hannibal hummed before asking, 'Have you killed before?'

'No,' Will shook his head. He glanced at the many books that lined the wall, a hand coming up, a finger brushing the clean spines. 'No, Garret Jacob Hobbs was my first.'

'And how did it make you feel?' Hannibal asked.

Will laughed again and looked over the railing. Hannibal had his hands in his pockets, but his attention was completely fixed on Will. Will felt hunger and surprise and want all seeping out of Hannibal, practically clawing at him. Hannibal wanted to drag Will into the dark. Will wanted to leap in of his own free will.

'Really?' Will said. 'How does that make you feel?'

Hannibal smirked lightly. 'It's a good technique,' he defended, 'and I am very interested in how you felt.'

'Good,' Will finally said, 'it made me feel very good. It was like looking at a crime scene, only better.'

'Because it was yours?' Hannibal suggested.

'Mm,' Will hummed lightly, 'I suppose. I wasn't completely satisfied, but I felt good.'

'Because you killed,' Hannibal said, 'but you didn't kill properly.'

Will raised his eyebrows at that, and glanced back down at the man.

'You wanted to kill him differently,' Hannibal explained. 'A part of you wasn't happy with the circumstances, or the weapon of choice.'

'What's your weapon of choice?' Will asked. He was curious. Hannibal had clearly killed before, and killed well. Cassie Boyle had simply been a gift, not Hannibal's usual way of killing.

Hannibal smiled. 'When did you realise?'

'Cassie Boyle,' Will said. 'She was your gift to me.'

Hannibal inclined his head as he said, 'Indeed.'

'Do you always take trophies?'

'Not trophies,' Hannibal replied.

'Yes, sorry,' Will laughed, 'a poor choice of words. You take their organs because they don't deserve them.'

'They have better uses,' Hannibal said.

'Food,' Will murmured, and watched surprise light up the older man's face. 'Did you feed her to me, that morning in Minnesota?' Will asked. 'Or was that someone else?'

Hannibal blinked a few times before his lips curled. 'That morning,' he confirmed. Will smiled. 'I would have thought you'd be slightly...'

'Disgusted?' Will supplied.

'Perhaps,' Hannibal nodded.

'Yeah, me too,' Will agreed, 'but I wasn't. I already like re-living murders, so cannibalism isn't too hard to stomach.'

Hannibal looked like he wanted to roll his eyes at the choice of words, but didn't.

'Do you go by anything?' Will asked as he walked back towards the ladder. 'I mean, are the FBI aware of you?'

'They've labelled me many things,' Hannibal said, watching Will climb back down to his level. 'The one I play as the most is the Chesapeake Ripper.'

Will laughed and dropped onto the floor, eyes shining as they met Hannibal's. 'Jack's personal Golden Ticket,' he snorted.

Hannibal inclined his head. 'I was only recently made aware that Jack is hunting me.'

'I bet that made you laugh,' Will said.

'I find it funny that Jack Crawford has hired the two of us for similar roles,' Hannibal said.

'A psychopath and... whatever I am,' Will nodded.

'You believe me to be a psychopath, Will?' Hannibal asked.

Will smiled, making his way over to the doctor, who hadn't moved from near his desk. 'I think you certainly fit the label,' Will said, 'but I really think that you're a lot more. You're... too different, to be a true psychopath.'

Hannibal just watched him, eyes those of a hungry predator. But Will knew that Hannibal no longer wanted to eat him. Will wasn't a pig like the rest of humanity, but nor was he a toy that Hannibal wanted to break. He was... something else, something that Hannibal hadn't yet come across. But he was curious.

'Will you join me for dinner tonight, Will?' Hannibal asked suddenly.

Will raised his eyebrows. 'Dinner?'

'We both know that I'm going to let you back into the field.' He paused before adding, 'With the concession that I come with you.'

Will smirked. 'Wanna keep an eye on me, Dr Lecter?'

'I want to watch you as you delve into the minds of others,' Hannibal admitted. 'And I want to help you truly embrace your own darkness.'

'I already have,' Will said.

'Not completely,' Hannibal countered. 'Hobbs was your first kill. He won't be your last.'

'Won't he?' Will grinned.

Hannibal stepped closer, and Will shivered minutely as the man's cologne filled his nostrils. Hannibal leaned that bit closer, until Will could rub their cheeks together, if he was inclined. 'No,' Hannibal practically whispered into his ear, 'he won't be.'

Hannibal drew back slowly, and met Will's eyes, meeting the same hunger and need that were in his own.

Will swallowed thickly and felt his dick twitch in his jeans. Well then...

'Who are we having?' Will asked.

The smirk that Hannibal gave him was truly sinful. Will licked his lips and allowed Hannibal to lead him from his office, hands warm and strong as they smoothed Will's jacket over his shoulders.

This was going to be fun.

{Fin}

Author's Note: It's my birthday (July 8th, for those of you in different time zones), and I always like posting something on my birthday. I decided to re-watch Hannibal- I have now downloaded the first season, and just have to watch episodes 10-13- and my muse decided to write some random dark!Will. So... yep, that's that.

Cheers,

{IBegToDreamAndDiffer}