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Title: Shards of Memory
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: Hannibal Lecter/Will Graham
Fandom: Hannibal
Rating: PG-13
Author's Note: Sequel to "Insatiable Urges."
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.


Will awakened slowly, feeling drowsy and warm and not wanting to open his eyes. It registered immediately that he was in bed with Hannibal, his lover spooning behind him, Hannibal's arm wrapped protectively around his waist.

He couldn't keep back a smile of contentment; he loved waking up like this, loved feeling so comfortable and .... and safe.

He never felt like this at home in his own bed. Waking cold and alone was what he was used to, but it wasn't his preferred way of facing the morning; he much preferred to start the day in Hannibal's arms, preferably after making love.

That wasn't going to happen; he knew that Hannibal wasn't going to ask for sex when his body was so badly bruised. His lover would consider that rude.

Will wished that he could remember what had happened to him, who might have put those bruises on his body -- but his mind refused to cooperate, staying blank on the subject. Not even a glimmer of light, of remembrance, shone in his mind.

He would probably never find out who had done this to him.

If only there was at least one small shard of memory that he could cling to and bring into the light, but there was .... nothing. It was frightening to know that someone could have done something like this to him and that his mind had completely blocked out the experience.

But at least he knew that nothing else had been done to him; there was no evidence of sexual assault, and for that he was unendingly grateful.

He would have known if someone had raped him -- there could have been an attempted rape, but Will was sure that he'd remember that, too. His mind might try to shut down during the attempt, but he was absolutely positive he would remember it.

What if he didn't? What if someone had tried to rape him, hadn't succeeded, and had left all of these bruises on his body in retaliation?

Will shuddered at the thought, snuggling deeper under the covers. He didn't want to think that something so horrific could have happened to him; the bruises were bad enough. He didn't want to think of himself as being a victim.

He wasn't a victim. He was a survivor.

The sooner the bruises faded away and he could put this behind him, the better. It wasn't something he wanted to dwell on, or even think about any more. Of course, he would always wonder what had happened, but he'd survived it. That was the important thing.

Hannibal would push him to remember, of course. He would probably try to guide their impromptu therapy sessions towards making Will remember.

He didn't want to remember, and the sooner he got Hannibal to realize that, the better. It wasn't going to do him any good to remember; he doubted that he would be able to bring a face to mind, and if he couldn't do that, there was no hope of catching his attacker.

Or attackers. There could have been more than one person; it was hard to believe that just one man, even one extremely angry man, could have put all of those bruises on his body. But if there had been more than one, then he would have almost certainly been raped.

And that hadn't happened, so he didn't know what to think. Unless this had been some kind of payback for something he'd done.

For all he knew, he could have been attacked by people who were intent on revenge for something that Will had done in the line of duty. He might have been the target of angry relatives of a killer he'd put behind bars. There were all kinds of possibilities.

He would probably never know, unless they attacked him again.

Will trembled at that thought, pushing it away as quickly as it had come into his mind. He wasn't going to be attacked again. He wasn't going to let himself be that vulnerable, or be caught in such a position, when he was unaware and unprepared.

But if he was sleepwalking, how could he stop it? He wouldn't know what was happening if he wasn't awake. And that was probably how this had happened.

Whoever had attacked him had seen that he was unaware and vulnerable. They had take advantage of that fact, and for all he knew, they had tried to rape him and failed for some reason. Maybe they had just been able to complete the act.

Maybe that was why they'd beaten him black and blue, left the bruises on his body. Out of frustration and fury at their own inability to do what they'd planned.

If that was the case, then he was thankful for it. But he would more than likely never know, so there was no sense in going over and over it again in his mind, trying to pull some kind of remembrance from what would always nothing more than complete darkness.

He couldn't force himself to remember. It just wasn't happening.

Will felt Hannibal move behind him, felt his lover's arm tighten around his waist. He smiled to himself, closing his eyes again and sinking back into a half-doze. He felt safe and warm; he didn't want to get up yet, didn't want to face the day.

He was here with Hannibal, right where he wanted to be. He was safe and protected, and there was nothing for him to be afraid of.

He couldn't be afraid, not when he was wrapped in such warmth. There was something about being with Hannibal that made him feel as though the rest of the world was very far away, and that he would never have to be afraid of anything ever again.

Hannibal had that effect on him. He probably always would. There would always be warmth and safety to be found in those arms, always a safe place for him to hide.

When Hannibal's hand moved down his body to rest on his hip, Will couldn't hold back a smile. He knew that his lover wanted him -- and even with the bruises, he was sure that there were several ways they could both find satisfaction and start the day off pleasantly.