A/N: Well I don't know about you but I'm not okay after the finale. So I thought I'd do a piece to help us cope. Unfortunately it turned out to be really painful. My bad.

All the same, enjoy it!

When Will woke up he didn't know where he was.

The pillow under his head and the sheets he was curled under were comfortable, much more comfortable than what he had at home, and for a brief, confused moment he thought he was back at Hannibal's house, curled up in the older man's bed. Will was dazed enough to wonder where Hannibal was, as he was missing the tell tale warmth that went along with sharing a bed with another person, when he remembered what had happened in a flash of red.

Hannibal wasn't lying beside Will, and he never would again. Absentmindedly, Will's hand stuttered over his abdomen. His fingertips lightly traced the wound beneath the sheets, feeling the puckered, angry mark. The mark that Hannibal had left on him.

Will slowly opened his eyes, blinded momentarily by the brightness of the hospital's (because of course it had to be a hospital) fluorescent lights. Slowly he turned his head, feeling so stiff and sore that he wondered how long he'd been out.

He wondered a lot of things at that moment. Like if Abigail and Alana and Jack had survived. If Hannibal had been brought into custody. Most of all, Will wondered how crazy he was to still feel the way he did for Hannibal.

Will hated himself for the fact that words like 'artist' and 'lover' all came to his mind before words like 'monster' and 'cannibal'.

Because above all, Hannibal was a monster. But he'd been a monster that had loved Will. When he'd been gutted, nothing was clearer to Will that Hannibal's love for him had been true and obsessive. Maybe that was the only way Hannibal knew how to love since he'd become so accustomed shutting people out after the death of his sister.

Hannibal hadn't tried to kill them all because he wanted to, he did it because Will had hurt him. He had felt so betrayed, so hurt and scared and lost, that he'd acted out to assure his survival. To assure that Will would be left scarred in more ways than one. Will knew that, and he wanted to be mad, but he couldn't. He just felt hollow, as if Hannibal had taken the heart that Will had so freely given him. Because Will truly had given his heart to Hannibal Lecter.

People would ask Will what was wrong with him for loving the man that was 'Hannibal the Cannibal' (a phrase that Will would never ever use). People would tell him he was just as much of a monster as Hannibal Lecter. Will wanted to feel guilty about his feelings, knowing fully well what Hannibal was. But all he could feel was devastated that he was alone again, and that Hannibal was alone too.

Something was definitely wrong with Will, but that didn't change the fact that he had loved Hannibal all the same. And now the man was gone, and Will was alone with a scar on his stomach that reminded him of Hannibal every time he took a breath.

Will blinked quickly, not wanting to cry, forcing himself to get out of his own head and look at what was around him. Apparently someone had bothered to leave flowers for him, white and yellow and purple ones. He couldn't help but feel grateful that the color red wasn't among them. He'd been exposed to far too much red. Again, Will wondered how long he'd been unconscious when he noticed the amount of petals that had shriveled and fallen away.

There were only two envelopes there, both untouched, and one small parcel. Will reached out a shaking hand to grab a card. It was from Zeller and Price. It wasn't very personal, a simple 'get well' card that they'd written in, but it still made Will feel better that they'd even cared enough to bother.

Will wouldn't have expected anything at all, given the fact that Alana, Jack, and Abigail were all in pretty critical conditions themselves. If they weren't already dead, a dark part of his mind whispered, and Will forced himself to ignore it. When a nurse came in, he would ask, despite the fact that he desperately didn't want to know the answer.

He set the card from Price and Zeller back on the table, careful not to move to much, careful not to mess up the IV needles in his arms, just being careful in a way that made him feel like a broken teacup.

He vaguely wondered if Hannibal had broken Will just to see if he would come back together.

Shaking himself slightly, he fumbled for the other card that lay on top of the small box, having absolutely no idea who it could be from. The two obviously went together, as was evident by the black ribbon that tied the two together, but Will didn't know who had actually gone to the trouble to invest more than a card in him.

Every Christmas and every birthday, his father had always told him that opening cards first was the polite thing to do. Will undid the ribbon, grabbed the envelope and flipped it to see the back, distracted for a moment by the simple, red, wax seal, feeling a heaviness in his chest. He opened it slowly, vaguely aware of the fact that his heart was hammering in his chest. If there had been any doubts as to who the sender was before, there certainly weren't any after he'd seen the meticulous penmanship. Who else would use a wax seal? Who else would care enough to send him a letter? Who else would want to see how will had come back together?

A part of him was tempted to throw the letter away, burn it, throw it in an ocean, rip it apart until it was unrecognizable confetti and then surrender it to the wind. But how could he when Hannibal's heart was in that envelope?

Will hadn't realized that his breathing had quickened, and he forced himself to calm down before drawing his eyes to the brief note, to Hannibal's perfect handwriting.

My Dearest Will,

It was never supposed to end like this. I wanted us to be together, I truly did. We could have been so extraordinary together. It was a shame that you let my love for you go to waste.

Was your love a ruse, dear Will? All a part of your plan to catch me, to bring me down? Or were your words honest as you bled out on my kitchen floor?

Does that make me a fool for loving you still?

You were right, you know. You did change me. And I think I changed you, getting someone with your morals to love me. Will you call me a monster, Will? Or will you mourn my absence?

Oh, you remarkable boy. I do admire your courage.

Perhaps a day will arrive when we can come together once more.

-H

Will could feel himself trembling all over, breathy little whimpers escaping him as though he were a wounded animal. The letter crumpled slightly as he shook, turning his eyes to the small parcel beside him, a final gift from Hannibal. Hannibal who still loved Will.

Tears obscuring his vision, Will forced himself to grab the small box, taking the lid off and removing the contents.

It was a small teacup, and also what broke the restraint that Will had managed to hold onto.

Before he knew what was happening, he was hunched over on his hospital bed, tears running down his face as he sobbed, the wound at his stomach burning with a pain that only made him think of the man who had inflicted it. Will couldn't think, and didn't want to think. He only wondered why he life had become what it was, why he had lost everything, why his happiness was so hard to come by.

Not that he deserved happiness for loving Hannibal, right?

Will suddenly wished that he had escaped with the psychiatrist. He'd had an opportunity to come clean and he'd let it get away from him. The only thing Will had at that moment was a staggering amount of loss. At least if he'd gone against his morals he would have Hannibal. He would havelove.

Now he had nothing.

Hannibal had killed him in every way except stopping his heart, and the grief was so incredible that Will thought he was going to drown in it.

"Mr. Graham? Mr. Graham!"

Will was vaguely aware of the fact that a nurse had run in hearing the sounds of his cries, and that she was pulling something out of his hands.

The teacup. She was taking the teacup away, but for some reason, now it was in pieces. That was when Will became aware of the blood on his hands, the crimson liquid dripping onto his bedsheets and Hannibal's letter. He couldn't even bring himself to feel bad about it. He didn't want Hannibal's words, he didn't want the man's arms around him or his lips against Will's own.

Will only wished that he'd been cut a little bit deeper. Then maybe he wouldn't be alive to deal with the aftermath of loving Hannibal Lecter.

"P-Please..." Will gasped, not entirely sure who he was pleading with. Maybe he was just pleading for an end to his suffering. Maybe he was pleading for Hannibal to return for him. Or maybe he was just pleading for time to rewind so that he had never left Louisiana, and had stuck to fixing boat motors.

The nurse had called for assistance at some point, and Will was gently pushed back onto the bed, the shattered teacup and letter from Hannibal set aside. They didn't bother to look closely, because they didn't realize how significant it was. They never would, of course. No one would ever be able to comprehend how significant Hannibal was to Will, how paramount their relationship had been.

"It's okay, Mr. Graham," the nurse said, smiling as reassuringly as she could. "You're just fine."

Will didn't have the words to tell her how wrong she was.

He couldn't breathe. His chest was too tight. Maybe if he was lucky he would just suffocate right there.

Someone was bandaging his hands. Someone else was administering what had to be a light anesthesia, because why else would Will be falling asleep when every nerve in his body was screaming at him to get up and run away?

"I'm sorry," he choked out, relaxing against the bed very much against his will. "I'm sorry, H-Hannibal, I..."

"Put your head back," Hannibal said. "Close your eyes. Wade into the quiet of the stream."

Will allowed his eyes to close and he let himself go to his stream, blocking out the hospital lights and the beeping of machinery and the sounds of his own anguished, broken sobs. Will fled to the sanctuary of his stream just as he always did when things got too difficult.

The only difference was that this time Hannibal was there with him.

It would have to do until they were really together again. Because they would be, Will had no doubt about that. The teacup would come together again.

A/N: Well I hope you liked that piece!

Also, I'm considering writing a second part to this, so please leave me a comment if that's something you'd like to see!