It's Beautiful [Hannigram One Shot]

I See Now

Will slowly opened his eyes, bracing himself for the sudden burst of light that was no doubt waiting for him.

To his great surprise, it was nothing like that.

It was dark.

He could not see a thing. His head hurt. Though hurt was far too gentle a word for the pulsing, splitting throb in his skull.

He let out a heavy groan as he pushed himself up onto his elbows, and in doing so discovered that it was not only his head that hurt so badly. He could feel every inch of his body with painful clarity.
Every muscle.
Every bone.

There was probably not a single place on him that was not at least badly bruised.

He sat up with considerable difficulty, smothering the urge to scream.

It hurt. It hurt so fucking much.

He lifted a hand that suddenly seemed to weigh a dozen kilos and touched his right cheek. That was where Dolarhyde had stabbed him. To his surprise, the wound had been stitched closed—neatly, with real sutures.

He frowned and swallowed hard as the dryness in his throat made itself known as well.

He started looking around, turning his head slowly, unwilling to subject himself to any more pain than necessary. He did not think he could bear anything beyond what he had already endured.

He still saw nothing. His eyes had adjusted to the darkness, but that changed nothing.

In front of him, beside him, above him, behind him—there was only black emptiness.

He was on the floor. He ran his hand over it and felt wood. Smooth and cold. Gathering all the strength he had left, he crawled toward the wall. It was painted.

He knocked on it twice and heard a dull sound.

Insulated.

He could not be in a basement, nor in some abandoned old building. There was a fresh smell in the air. The room had been cleaned recently. Yet it was completely empty. Of that Graham was certain. His breathing was clearly audible, just like the sound of his hand against the wall. Every noise echoed through what felt like a fairly large space.

He was alone. Completely alone.

He had no idea what had happened. The last thing he remembered was Hannibal's warmth as he held him, shielding him from the fall; that piercing, emotion-laden look meeting his own...

This is all I ever wanted for you, Will...

...the rush of air striking him as he fell, dragging the psychiatrist down with him; the biting cold of the waves as his body hit the water...

For both of us.

He took a deep breath.

Hannibal.

Panic surged through him. Suddenly, as if he had forgotten how weak he was, how little strength he actually had, he pushed himself upright and started moving forward with one hand stretched out in front of him.

He had to find the door. He had to get out. He had to...

Hannibal.

He panted heavily, forcing one step after another.

Just as he had thought. There was absolutely nothing in the room. He ran into nothing. Thankfully, because he was not being careful in the slightest.

At last he reached the opposite wall and began running his hand along it in search of the door.