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Title: Rising To the Surface
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: Hannibal Lecter/Will Graham
Fandom: Hannibal
Rating: PG-13
Author's Note: Sequel to "Coffee in the Morning."
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.


"I don't know if I want my memories back."

Will spoke the words from the doorway; he didn't know what kind of effect they would have on Hannibal, but he wanted to observe the other man's actions.

What would Hannibal think when he heard those words? Would he tell Will that he was being silly, that he needed to have those memories intact in his mind?

No, of course Hannibal wouldn't say that, Will told himself. But he might think it, and Will was sure that he could interpret Hannibal's body language and understood what he was feeling, even if his boyfriend didn't say the words that Will was sure were on the tip of his tongue.

Maybe he was crazy not to want those memories back in his head again. But right now, he just wanted to forget about whoever -- or whatever -- had attacked him.

Right now, he was more concerned about what had obviously happened between them last night -- the coupling that he had no memory of.

That was frightening, to think that they'd made love without him knowing.

"Why not, Will?" Hannibal asked as he turned around from the stove, a slight frown on his face. "Don't you want the person who attacked you to be brought to justice?"

Will shook his head, sighing, wishing that he could make Hannibal understand how he felt. "That's not it," he said, spreading his hands out in a gesture of surrender as he took a seat at the table. "I just don't think that pushing myself to remember is helping at all."

Hannibal poured them each a cup of coffee, then took a seat opposite Will, looking at the younger man, the frown still marring his brow.

"Will, it may not be helping you, but it is something that you need to do if we are ever to bring this person to justice and make him pay for what he did to you," he said softly.

Will nodded, slowly, reluctantly. He knew that was true.

But somehow, finding the person who had attacked him didn't seem like it was so imperative any more. It felt as though he was chasing an ephemeral shadow; the more he tried to remember, to bring a face to mind, the more his memory was blocked.

He had no idea who would want to harm him. There were so many criminals that he'd put away who might be out there with revenge in their hearts that he couldn't count them all.

Trying to come up with just one name, and then pin that name and their face to a memory that was shadowy at best, was an impossible task for him to accomplish.

Really, all that he could do was hope that his memory would come back, that all of the pieces would suddenly decide to coalesce into a complete memory. Will didn't believe that would happen; he just wanted to put what had happened behind him and get on with his life.

Hannibal watched him with a speculative expression on his face.

"You don't really want to remember any more, do you, Will?" he asked, shaking his head. "I thought it might come to this. And perhaps you're in the right."

That attitude was surprising; Will had expected Hannibal to protest, to say that he had to remember. But he was glad that there wouldn't be an argument.

Will shook his head slowly, sighing. "No, I don't want to remember," he said, his voice very soft. "I don't think I'm going to, anyway. It's been this long, and there's been no clear memory coming back into my head. I don't think it's going to happen, Hannibal."

Hannibal nodded slowly, sipping his coffee before speaking. "You may be right, Will. The memory may never surface. Perhaps it's best to simply move on."

Well, he hadn't expected that. Not at all.

Will had been sure that Hannibal would argue with him, that he would pull out a dozen reasons why the memory should be forced to the surface.

Maybe Hannibal was as tired of this as he was. Maybe his lover simply wanted to move on just as he did, to get on with their lives and put this all behind them.

Now was the time to broach the subject of him not being able to remember what had happened between them last night; they were talking about memories, and this was the one that it bothered him the most to lose. What was wrong with him? Why couldn't he remember?

"There's one memory I'm really anxious to recover," Will began, his hands tightening on his coffee mug. "I don't know what happened last night."

Was it his imagination, or did Hannibal's eyes widen just as bit at those words? Was his boyfriend looking away, as though he was trying to avoid Will's gaze?

No, Hannibal had no reason to do that. He was imagining things.

It was ridiculous for him to think that Hannibal was trying to avoid looking at him. Ridiculous to suddenly feel that his lover might be hiding something.

WIll cleared his throat, plunging on with his words. "I know that we made love last night. I mean, it's not like I can't tell when I've had sex. But I can't remember any of it, no matter how hard I try. The last thing I remember is us having dinner. Then it's all just a blank until this morning."

Hannibal looked up, meeting his gaze, his dark eyes clear and unblinking. "After dinner, we went into the living room for a while. We both read before we went up to bed."

Why did he feel that Hannibal wasn't telling him the whole story?

Will didn't know why he felt that Hannibal was holding something back from him. He had no reason to think that; no reason to feel that Hannibal was acting .... well guilty.

But at the same time, there was something about his actions that spoke of furtiveness, that told WIll he wasn't being completely direct and upfront.

Whatever had happened between them last night, maybe it had been something a little kinky, something that Hannibal was embarrassed about, Will told himself. Though he didn't think that it was possible for his lover to be embarrassed about anything in the sexual arena.

Still, there was a first time for everything. Maybe whatever it was had really gotten to Hannibal, and was now making him feel uncomfortable.

Will smiled, hoping that it would ease the tension in the room, a tension that almost palpable. He didn't want the man he loved to feel uneasy. He needed to defuse this situation.

He had to be nonchalant about this, had to let it go.

"It doesn't matter," he said, waving a hand in the air. "I know that we made love, and that's enough for me. I just wish I could remember what I'm sure was a great experience."

Hannibal nodded, looking relieved. "I can assure you that it was indeed a wonderful night, Will," he said, his voice soft. "I thoroughly enjoyed it, and I hope that you did, as well. It's a pity that you can't bring the memory to mind, though. Perhaps we should see a doctor about this."

Will straightened up a little, nodding. "I can understand why a doctor wouldn't be able to bring out a memory of a traumatic experience, but I"m sure that last night was anything but traumatic."

Yes, that was what they would do. This memory could come rising to the surface.

For a moment, just a fleeting moment, Will thought he saw something in Hannibal's eyes, a reluctance to talk about the night that had just passed.

Surely Hannibal couldn't be hiding anything from him. His boyfriend wouldn't do that. But that look .... it spoke of secrets, of deceptions.

WIll pushed the thought firmly away. He wouldn't believe that.

Hannibal had nothing to hide from him. There were no secrets between them; he was sure that he knew all that he needed to know about the man he loved.

Whatever secrets there might still be between them would be discovered, in time. He had no doubt of that. He just had to be patient and let time take its course.

And maybe, if he was lucky, his memories would come back, too.

Though he wasn't going to hold his breath waiting for that.

With that thought, he sat back, waiting for Hannibal to speak again, to tell him what had gone on between the two of them last night.

Will found that he was almost holding his breath, waiting for what his boyfriend had to say. Waiting to find out just what they had done together.

It was a memory that he desperately wanted restored to his mind.