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Title: This Is Not the End
Pairing: Hannibal Lecter/Will Graham
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. soar
***This was not the end. It couldn't be. He and Will still had years left, years to know each other, to be together. Hannibal wasn't going to let their story end here, on a cold floor in an abandoned house, without having a proper chance to say goodbye to Will.
He closed his eyes, holding back the tears that threatened to spill over. How long had it been since he had cried? He didn't remember.
His hands worked at Will's chest as he continued to breathe life into the young man's body; Will had to respond to this. He had to cough, to breathe, anything to let Hannibal know that he was still here, that he hadn't left this world.
How long would this take? How long would it be before he either knew that it was hopeless, or Will opened those beautiful blue eyes and gazed up at him? How long before he knew whether his life had ended, or that it could go on as before?
No, not as before. This night would change his life forever.
If he lost Will, then his life would never be the same. And even if he didn't, then he would be irrevocably shaken by the knowledge that he had almost lost what was most precious to him in the world, lost what meant more than anything else ever had.
This couldn't be how it ended. Not for them. They deserved more than this, more than to be cut off abruptly when they had only just found each other.
Will deserved more than this. He deserved to live a long and happy life, a life that gave him more than what he had already gotten, a life that was fulfilling and worthy of him. He was so young. He couldn't simply have his life snuffed out like a wavering candle flame.
He almost gasped when he felt Will's lips move under his.
Hannibal released one last breath into Will's lungs, hoping that this would be the one to bring him back. In just a few seconds, the young man coughed, choked slightly, then took a deep breath, drawing air into his own lungs, breathing on his own.
Hannibal closed his eyes in relief, sitting back on his heels, resisting the urge to press one hand against his heart. Everything would be all right now. Will was safe, Will was alive. He had somehow managed to bring Will back -- if he'd actually been gone at all.
He didn't realize that there were tears running down his cheeks; when he raised a hand to his face to push back his damp hair, he felt the wetness there and marveled at it. He hadn't cried in years. He had thought that he'd forgotten how to cry.
Will wasn't dead. Will was with him. Will wasn't leaving him. The thought made him want to cry out Will's name, to enfold the young man in his arms and hold him close.
But Hannibal stopped himself from doing so; after what Will had obviously been through, an embrace from a male, even someone he trusted, wasn't what he needed right now. What he needed was medical care; he had to be taken to a hospital quickly.
"Hannibal." Will's voice was cracked, a mere whisper of sound. "You found me."
"Of course I did," Hannibal whispered back, taking Will's hand in his own and squeezing it gently before helping Will to sit up. He looked away from the dried blood on Will's thighs, the bruises and scratches on his pale skin. He couldn't afford to be angry now.
He didn't bother to glance at the body of the man who had abducted and raped Will; in Hannibal's eyes, he was nothing more than trash. He wouldn't even deign to turn this one into a meal; this meat was already rancid, rotten from the inside out.
He had to concentrate on keeping Will warm, on calling an ambulance, on getting his lover to the hospital. He had to be certain that Will would be all right.
All right. He almost wanted to snort at the thought. It would be quite a long time before Will was "all right" again, after what had been done to him. Hannibal didn't doubt that this had set their sexual relationship back quite a bit, but that was the least of his concerns now.
"C-cold," Will stammered, his teeth chattering. "So cold."
Hannibal nodded, looking around the room for something to cover Will with. He rose to his feet, going to the bed in the corner and pulling the blanket away, trying to ignore the blood on the sheets. He had no doubt that it was Will's blood.
Anger rose within him again. How dare that bastard have dared to lay a finger on Will? Will was his; Will belonged to him, and to no one else.
Well, the man was dead now, and all for the good. Hannibal knew that he wouldn't be arrested for murder; the man had obviously harmed Will, and he had only been acting in Will's best interests -- and his own self-defense -- when he had fired that deadly shot.
He didn't regret it, not in the slightest. In fact, he would do it over again, if he could -- only he would make sure that the bastard suffered more than he'd been made to. That was his only regret, that he hadn't been able to inflict the pain and suffering that was deserved.
Though at the moment, that really didn't seem to matter. All that mattered was that he get Will out of here; he had to make sure that his young lover was taken to safety, and that he would be given the best possible treatment for his wounds.
In fact, he intended to look after Will himself, if he was allowed to.
Leaning down, he helped Will to his feet, wrapping the blanket around his nude body and guiding him to a chair near the bed. He didn't want to look at the trappings of Will's captivity -- the shackles on the bed, the gag that had obviously been in his mouth.
That was behind them now. Will was here, and he was safe. No one was going to touch him, no one was going to harm him.
"You were crying over me," Will whispered, looking up at him. "You really do care about me, don't you?" His voice was very soft, a little shaky. "I kept hoping you would find me. All I could think about was you. I kept thinking that you wouldn't want me any more, that I'm tainted now."
Hannibal shook his head, a frown creasing his brow. "Never think that, Will," he said, his voice gentle. "I could never stop wanting you. What was done to you wasn't your fault -- I could hardly blame you for what someone else did."
He didn't want to admit to his young lover that he had indeed been crying. Somehow, it seemed far too weak of him to have been so concerned about Will that it had brought tears to his eyes. But Will deserved to know the truth, deserved to know that he did indeed care.
"Of course I was crying when I thought that you were going to die," he said softly. "I could not bear to lose you, Will. You mean far too much to me."
With those words, he leaned forward to place a gentle kiss against Will's lips.
Will was crying himself now, sobs tearing at his throat. "I should have been more careful," he sobbed, closing his eyes and shaking his head. "It was my fault. He shouldn't have been able to get to me. I caused you all that worry. I'm so sorry, Hannibal."
Hannibal knelt beside the chair, taking Will's face between his hands. "Don't you dare blame yourself for this, Will," he said, his voice soft, but the words strong and firm. "This was not your fault. You are not to blame for any of what happened."
Will nodded, then gulped. "I wish you hadn't had to go through this," he said, his voice still cracked and a little unsteady. "I'd give anything for you to have been spared all that worry. But I've got to admit that I'm glad you did worry about me."
"You've been through much more than I have," Hannibal pointed out to him. "And of course I worried about you. You're a vital part of my life, Will. You mean a great deal to me."
He wasn't going to say more than that. Any more, and he might get choked up. He needed to be alone for a while, to weigh his feelings, to assess these new revelations of all that Will meant to him. That wasn't going to be an easy task.
What mattered now was getting Will safely out of here, and to a hospital.
He could mull over his own emotions later. For the moment, Will was the main priority. Pulling out his cell phone, Hannibal quickly dialed Jack Crawford, letting him know what had happened. Then he dialed 911, giving them the address and telling them to send an ambulance.
When he turned back to Will, the young man had pulled his legs up against his chest, wrapping his arms around them and resting his forehead on his knees. Hannibal went to sand beside the chair, his hand on Will's shoulder, offering what comfort he could.
This had not been the end, he told himself. Only the beginning. They would move forward from here -- and if he played his cards right, then Will would be more his than ever. Their relationship had moved to an entirely new level, one that Hannibal was eager to explore.
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