Chapter Text
Hannibal feels himself slowly coming to consciousness. Slowly like honey dripping from a spoon. He smells the remnants of a meal, the scents jostling loose a hazy memory of Will feeding him. Was that earlier in the evening, the morning? What time was it now?
His brow furrowed unhappily, he could only remember one other time in his life feeling this out of control. It was his least favourite memory. A hazy image of Mischa formed behind his closed eyes. Blurred, features flickering with others he had seen throughout his life, his life that felt very long in this moment, was it possible this wasn't her face. Could he have forgotten? He opened his eyes to stop the tears that threatened to spill over.
His eyes glaze back and forth as he attempts to focus on the ceiling. They catch on a silhouette, he bears his teeth for a split seconds until his eyes settle on an IV. A cocktail of muscle relaxants, tranquilizers, sleeping pills, and pain medications could easily cause memory issues. Strange he recalls this but not other things that seem so much more important.
He can almost feel the tug of sleep behind his eyes as if operated manually by some unknown being as his eyes blink slowly closed again. Consciousness once again drifting away like a ship on calm seas.
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Once again the scent of seafood awakens him. It comes faster this time, awareness. Grilled red snapper. A small flinch in the corner of his mouth, a crumb of pride, he feels more himself. He can see faintly in his minds eye Wills mouth curling around a spoonful before taking another and proffering it to Hannibal.
Will, a larger curl at the corner of Hannibal's mouth, although looking tired in this memory with dark smudges under his eyes, seems more solid that Hannibal can ever recall. Shrugging at Hannibal's thanks, "it's nothing," in a flat tone. Hannibal knows how difficult it can be to keep someone sequestered and recuperating but Will is also navigating a boat, judging by the fish, through the Gulf of Mexico. Will however does not give off the aura of someone struggling or exhaustion, rather he seems to have reconciled something within himself and appears complete.
A small huff of breath shakes him from his reveries and alerts him to another's presence. A quirk down of his mouth this time at his own dulled senses. It's Will, whose body is curled towards Hannibal in the plush bunk, reminding Hannibal of Wills dogs cluttered around his bed in Wolf-trap. He is wearing a loose pullover and is stripped to his boxers, Hannibal is relieved to see that the bruises have faded to a mustard green and will soon be gone and hopes his own are on a similar journey.
The almost black circles around Wills eyes have faded to a periwinkle colour, not unlike the dawn sky Hannibal can see trying to pry around the blinds. With this too Hannibal is pleased recalling Wills pained face in the first week of their journey until Hannibal had almost angrily demanded Will rest or risk complicating his injuries.
He is unaware of how long he takes in Wills face, reliving cherished memories and ruminating on the future. He had been sure, on the bluff, Will has finally chosen him and there life together. Reciprocating Hannibal's love, bringing forth his darkness, Will had seen Hannibal and showed himself. On the boat however Hannibal has only seen how Will is in these four walls of this cabin, Will has been pleasant, borderline professional in his medical care but Hannibal feels the loss of their connection. Has had to hold tightly onto his hope as fear crept in at the thought of Will once again drifting away, but the hope had grown strong again every time he had awoken to Wills continued company.
Beside him Wills eyes flit around under his lids as he is dragged towards awareness. He is waking up.