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Title: Memory Rising
Pairing: Hannibal Lecter/Will Graham
Prompt: 5, Memory
Author's Note: Sequel to "Keeping Silent."
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 sat on the front steps of his house, staring out into the distance.
He could almost remember what had happened on the night he was attacked. There was something there, just under the surface, a memory that was rising.
If only that memory would break the surface and take a deep breath, bring the full recollection of what had happened that night flooding back to him. He wanted that memory more than he had ever wanted anything; no, he didn't just want it. He needed it.
He needed to know what had taken place. He needed to know if he was losing his mind, or if what he thought he had seen was real.
Maybe it wasn't. Maybe it was just his imagination.
It had to be, he thought with a soft sigh. There was no such thing as a man with a stag's head. In the heat of the moment, that part had been some kind of wild hallucination.
But there was more to that memory, Will was sure of it. There was something just underneath the surface, some kind of familiarity that he couldn't quite put his finger on. He wanted to reach out and grasp that memory, to bring it kicking and screaming out into the light.
If only that memory would surface, then he could have some clarity. Then the dreams would stop coming, and he could finally face his fears and defeat them.
Why wouldn't that memory become clearer? He closed his eyes, clenching his fists in his lap. It was there, hovering in the distance, beckoning to him ....
That memory was so tantalizing in its nearness, yet so utterly frustrating in its haziness. He couldn't pin it down, couldn't make it become any clearer. For some reason, it chose to stay just out of reach, as though it was taunting him with his inability to make its edges sharpen.
Why wouldn't his memory come clear for just a few seconds -- enough time for him to turn and catch a look at his attacker's face, so he would know who it was?
Will sighed again, resting his head in his hands.
Maybe he didn't even know the person who had attacked him. He might get a good look at their face and still have absolutely no idea who they were.
Or they could have been wearing a mask. His heart thumped almost painfully when that thought came to him. Maybe that was why he'd thought, in his confused, sleeping state, that he had seen a man with a stag's head. It could be because they had worn some kind of bizarre headgear.
Well, at least that was something to think about. He felt a stirring of hope, making him feel lighter and much less oppressed than he'd been feeling lately.
It was something to grasp at, which was what he desperately needed at the moment.
Grasping at straws would at least give him something to hold on to.
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