Title: The edge is what I have
Author: Circeniko
Fandom: Red Dragon
Rating: PG
Summary: Will's psyche is a mess.
Author Notes: title is from Roethke's poem In A Dark Time.

It never failed. A letter came every week, and every week Will put it in a trunk in the attic. He couldn't bring himself to throw them away; they might someday be needed. They might be needed right now, but he knows better than to let Hannibal Lecter into his mind.

He leads a solitary life now. He's brought people home with him once or twice, but they rub against the raw edges of the holes left by Molly and Willie. They trace his scars with wonder, taking possession of them in a way that makes him uncomfortable.

The letters pry upon his mind, and he finds himself imagining their contents. When he catches himself at it he throws himself into some physical activity, boating, running, something out in the sun.

Hannibal Lecter belongs in the realm of dark: candle-lit rooms, wine and old parchments.

Will never drinks anymore. He's probably healthier than he's been in years, but he feels hollow. He's bored, and knowing this, he reads, but books only lead to invisible conversations.

He's being haunted. He'd get an exorcist if it would help, but he knows that his problem isn't external. Living alone, with only the words of a madman, he's afraid that he's gone mad himself, stared into the void for too long.

When news comes of Lecter's escape, he expects the letters to stop coming, and is startled to find himself disappointed. He's even more startled when they don't stop coming. He should turn them over to Crawford.

He doesn't.