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Title: Answer To A Prayer
Pairing: Will Graham/Sherlock Holmes
Prompt: 13, Prayer
Disclaimer: This is entirely a product of my own imagination, and I make no profit from it. I do not own the lovely Hannibal Lecter or Will Graham, unfortunately, just borrowing them for a while. Please do not sue.
***Hope. That's what Sherlock was offering him. Hope, when before, he'd had none. It was a spark, a light at the end of a very long tunnel.
He needed that hope. He needed it more than he had ever needed anything. He'd prayed to have this kind of hope held out to him, but he had never thought he would receive it. Sherlock was a blessing, the answer to every prayer he'd sent up.
Will didn't really believe in prayer. He never had, not since he was a child. But now, he was sending out any kind of prayer he could to think of to any deity who might listen.
He needed to believe. He needed to hope.
If Sherlock could help him, if he could somehow make sense of the mess that Will had gotten himself into, then maybe, just maybe, he could walk out of this place a free man. Maybe he would never have to look back, and this could become just a vague memory.
It would be just another nightmare he'd suffered through, just one of the many others that he'd been plagued with for these past few months.
He'd lived with them for far too long, until they'd almost become a part of him.
Will hated those nightmares. He hated waking in a cold sweat, wondering what was real and what was fantasy, feeling that he was losing his mind.
But at this point, those nightmares beckoned to him, almost seductive in their intensity. He didn't know how to make them go away, or how to turn away from them.
He had prayed for those nightmares to stop, and they hadn't.
Maybe now they could. Maybe now he finally had something to hold on to, something solid, something real in his life. A spark of hope.
If Sherlock was going to hold out that hope to him, then he wasn't going to turn away from it. No, he was going to grasp it and hold on for dear life, never letting go. He would hold on to that spark until it died away -- or until it led him through the darkness to freedom.
Freedom. Being out of this place. That was all he wanted.
That was what he had prayed for, every night since he'd been here. He had started to think that his prayers would never be answered, that he was alone and abandoned.
Sherlock had given him a hand to cling to, a steady rock in sea of uncertainty. That was what he had prayed for, and it was something that no one else had offered to him. Everyone else had pulled away, but this man hadn't. This man was going to help him.
Will closed his eyes, feeling hope rise within him. Sherlock was like the answer to a prayer. Will could only hope that was what he was, and let that hope give him strength.
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