A/N: Just a quick one-shot on my newest, most favourite and current OTP. Aka Hannigram. Begins immediately after the Season 3 finale; because that ending was too much of a Hadesdamned cliffhanger (literally) for me (or any other polite, well-tailored fannibal) to bear, so I had to do this, or I'd either commit suicide or homicide.

Disclaimer: I do not own the magnificence that is Hannibal. If I did THE SHOW WOULDN'T HAVE BEEN CANCELLED! Ahem. Excuse me.

So look in the mirror and tell me what do you see? Is it still you? Or is it me?
Become the beast, we don't have to hide. Do I terrify you? Or do you feel alive?

- Karliene (Become The Beast)

For a brief moment there was the sensation of being airborne, and Will Graham could almost have convinced himself that he was flying. Flying, flying towards the sun, carried on the majestic rufescent wings of the Great Red Dragon - now finally at liberty from his bonds, finally free... then he remembered that he was falling. Surprisingly this concept did not terrify him like it should have. It's alright, a toxic voice murmured, falling is just like flying... except there's a more permanent destination.

Will had no time to scream before he hit the water and stopped thinking all together. Pitch black fog engulfed him in an ashy whirlpool and seeped into his lungs, squeezing the oxygen from his body with icy fingers. For a brief infinity, there was only the sensation of cold and fear and pain. And then there was nothing...

Will shot up in his bed, panting and sweating profusely. Wait, no. That wasn't right. Not his bed. Someone else's bed. But that didn't feel right either, he wasn't supposed to be on someone else's bed. He couldn't be. There was something... something tugging desperately at the back of his head, something that he was missing. But what was it?

"Finally, you are awake. I was worried."

All of a sudden that 'something' didn't matter anymore, because everything else had become meaningless at the sound of Hannibal Lecter's voice, drifting from a chair besides the bed.

"Hannibal." Will's voice sounded broken even to his own ears, he winced.

"Yes, Will?" Molten umber eyes fixed steadfastly on to his frame, and suddenly Will was lost in a vortex of darkness and emotion.

"William?" Will blinked, clearing his vision. Hannibal stared at him expectantly, and Will noticed there was some concern in his gaze; this, he found, for some peculiar reason, made a certain strange but not unpleasant heat pool within the profiler's stomach.

Will swallowed, his throat much dryer than before, "I... what?" He winced again at his eloquence, or rather lack thereof.

Hannibal tilted his head curiously, "You don't remember?" The doctor appeared amused, and rather intrigued, which Will found extremely baffling given the current circumstances... which he still couldn't quite place at the moment.

"I... no... I'm not quite... I don't..." Will struggled for words, and Hannibal smiled understandingly.

"We..." Hannibal paused, as if contemplating on how to choose his words,"...fell, Will. You hit your head, hard. I patched you up, but you appear to be suffering from a memory lapse."

Will Graham stared at the psychiatrist, trying to make sense of the words he had spoken. He frowned, something dawning on him, "Wait... we?"

Hannibal eyed him, and for once Will had difficulty reading his gaze, "How much do you remember?" He queried softly, that intrigued gleam back in his swirling sepia eyes, though now there was something else tinging his vision, something akin to worry, as if Will was a house in a hurricane about to be crushed and carried away.

"I... remember what? I don't-" But then he did. With a gasp - or perhaps it had been a scream, but his own or someone else's? - the crumbling dam built like a force field so carefully around his memory withered and fractured into a million broken shards, raining down around him in a gyre of hell-fire. And the memories washed over him in a tidal wave of cleansing poison and Will burst, renewed and aware, from his feverish seizure.

"Do you remember now?" Hannibal whispered, and if Will had been someone else he probably would never have heard the question. But Will was Will. He had long grown accustomed to the silent, velvety, Lithuanian drawl that haunted his nightmares and his dreams and every moment in between.

"Yes." Will breathed, drinking in the silence that followed like a sworn addict. They had both felt the spark that passed between them in that one half-spoken syllable. And there was something alluringly deadly about the memory of the two of them standing atop the crumbling cliff-top, embracing like lovers, and drenched in cerise red blood that had appeared black in the moonlight. Will secured the memory in his palace, knowing that Hannibal had done the same, and already anticipating the opportunity to re-live the event - and the thrilling rush that came with it.

Will peeled away the drying covers of the bed and gave the stained bandages covering his chest and stomach a rapid once-over. Multiple ribs cracked, some cuts, numerous areas of bruising, some bones fractured, arm broken. Overall, he had to admit, not horrible, considering he had jumped off a multi-storey cliff - to his death. Presumably anyway. That had been the plan; or in his own mind anyway. Evidently Hannibal had had different thoughts.

"How?" Will asked, completely able to determine how they had survived on his own in his mind's eye but wanting to hear Hannibal talk again.

"We missed hitting any rocks at the bottom, and the impact of the fall was divided between us, the jolt of the contact was lessened. Still, you appeared to have taken the brunt of the collision," This earned him a quick flick of the eyes from Hannibal's direction, though they moved away too swiftly for Will to identify the emotions they were reflecting, "You were knocked unconscious. I remained... inconveniently awake, then natural instincts kicked in, I suppose. I swam us back to shore."

"My hero." Will muttered, he himself not entirely sure if he was being sarcastic or not.

Hannibal shrugged, deeming to take the statement as a compliment, "I can't take all the credit, the current helped." His coppery eyes twinkled coyly when they swivelled round to rest on Will again, and Will found himself snorting with rather inappropriate but inescapable mirth. Hannibal appeared pleasantly surprised at Will's reaction, and the sides of his mouth quirked up in a small but warm smile, the first real smile that Will had seen from him in a very long time.

"Why inconveniently?" Will asked, once the moment had passed. He almost felt guilty for making Hannibal's smile disappear more quickly.

"We were meant to die there, Will. We were meant to die together." There was something akin to an accusation in Hannibal's voice, the same kind of tone that he had used the last time they had been in the psychiatrist's kitchen. A brief image flashed before Will's eyes, but not of Abigail lying in a pool of blood like he had always seen before, but rather of Hannibal staring down at him with betrayal in his eyes and a broken heart beating in his chest.

Will swallowed again, willing the image away, "Then why didn't you let us die?" Hannibal looked away, and Will could picture the metaphorical walls rising up out of the ground to conceal him from Will and the rest of the world. "Why, Hannibal?" Will repeated, "Why did you do it?"

Hannibal was not a man that liked to be rushed, and so Will waited patiently for his answer, "Remember when I said that my compassion for you was inconvenient, Will?" Will nodded, of course he did, and there were many things that he had wanted to say in reply to that, but none of which he could yet admit to himself. "Well, it appears, Will, that my compassion is too... copious to let you die." The bitter edge never faltered from Hannibal's tone, and his eyes did not stray towards Will even once. And Will realised that Hannibal had been preparing himself for a rejection for a long time.

"You love me." Will said. Hannibal did not flinch or glare or yell, but the flat tone of his coldly spoken 'Yes' was evidence enough of his pain. Will was silent as he digested Hannibal's answer. He had known of course, he would have been a fool not to. Others had noticed too: Bedelia, Freddie Lounds, Alana. They had all, in some way, claimed the obvious - that Hannibal Lecter was in love with Will Graham. But none of them had ever stated the opposite, none of them had ever suggested that Will Graham might be in love with Hannibal Lecter. At least not directly. But unspoken truths were not any less valid than spoken truths.

With a flinch of pain, Will brought himself into a sitting position, and placed a slightly shaking hand onto Hannibal's arm, Lecter twitched at the contact but made no move to face Will, Will sighed, Hannibal had been the one most willing to open up between the two of them, how was he supposed to do this? It was ironic, really, that the criminal was more solicitous than the hero, though Will doubted he had the right to label himself as such anymore, in fact he doubted if he had ever had the right to begin with.

"You know..." Will began, "At that house on the cliff, when you said your compassion for me was inconvenient... I never got to tell you... my affection for you is wholly illogical."

Creamy sorrel eyes turned to inspect him, and their gaze pierced through his armour and defences easily, penetrating his body and searching his soul. They were seeking out any falsehoods, any small indication of betrayal, that Will knew, but he also knew they would never find any. Not in regards to that. Not this time.

Finally, Hannibal drew back, satisfied with finding no lies, and Will allowed himself to smile up at him softly. For a brief moment, Hannibal's features flickered, and his black deer mask looked like it would rear its head once again, but then he returned Will's smile, and they found themselves leaning in towards each other.

There was nothing sexual about their lips touching, it was brief and held none of the primal urge for intimacy that humans were usually so driven by. Instead, the gesture held the deep kind of meaning and expression that most could only dream of conceiving. That brief contact heightened both their senses incredibly, and when they pulled away, both their pupils were vastly dilated. Neither mistook this as a sign of erotic attraction or signal to continue, for that was not its meaning. Hannibal and Will were high on the sensation of experiencing everything the other had to offer through one touch, a sign of trust and solicitude that served as a seal to only further magnify their bond and solidify its strength.

"Well," Hannibal was the first to speak up, "Now that we have effectually declared our undying love for one another, how would you suggest that we proceed?"

Will snorted again in amusement, "Undying love huh?" He teased as Hannibal nodded seriously, Will grinned, the gesture brightening all of his features and making him look ten years younger. Hannibal appeared taken aback by his lover's sudden transformation, but found himself smiling back easily.

"Well then..." Will mused, "Maybe you can show me Florence after all. I mean, they think we're dead, most likely. They'll never expect us to return there anyway. And we can cover our tracks, can't we? And... I mean, since you never got to the chance to before..." Will trailed off, not knowing how to continue, but Hannibal appeared pleasantly surprised. Hannibal smiled, his entire countenance softening from its stiff posture as he looked at Will with what could only be described as admiration.

"I would love to show you Florence, Will."

"And I would love to see Florence with you, Hannibal."

A/N: P.S HANNIGRAM IS CANON SUCKAS XD (I know I'm kinda late to this revelation but I'm just really excited about it okay?!) And I apologise if the characters are OOC. I can't write them with the same depth, development and emotion that the show does; I'm not Bryan Fuller!