Summary: Tristan vows to find Galahad in their next life. Hannibal has to live up to that promise.
Disclaimer: I own nothing of Hannibal or King Arthur
Rating: T+
Pairing: Tristan/Galahad Hannibal/Will
A/N: Each chapter is short.
MIRRORING THE PAST:
BALTIMORE, MARYLAND:
PRESENT
Hannibal had tended to Will's wound, dressed it, and made his young friend as comfortable on the floor as he could. He was no young man, but Hannibal stretched out next to Will feeling the heat of the fire licking across his body. Will hadn't wanted him to leave, so he wouldn't. Hannibal was going to stay right where he was until he was sure Will wasn't riddled with an infection. Blood coated Hannibal's hand shoving the box of memories open wider. He could see himself, yet not himself, wiping and cleaning blood off of his hands. Worry was coloring his face then as it did now. Even as Hannibal tended Will's wound, Will kept calling out for Tristan. Hannibal told him that he was there, that everything would be alright. It would calm Will, if only for a moment.
Will was floating on the air of unconsciousness, being surrounded by warmth. He knew he was at Hannibal's house, but beyond that he didn't know what was really happening. All he could feel was the pain in his side, the red hot angry ache of his wound that told him it had been cleaned, sutured, and bandaged. Will tried to open his eyes, but his body would no obey. He wanted to see the face of the man he cared about, the man his soul knew better than anyone. Fighting the fatigue, Will forced his eyes open, but in his fevered state, it was not Hannibal he saw, but of his love returned. "Tristan…."
Hannibal placed his left hand over Will's heart and whispered, "I'm right here." He moved closer to Will's side so he could rest his head on the same pillow. "I'm not going anywhere." Hannibal could recall in vivid detail the last time Galahad had lay dying from a wound to his side. Back then he had been Tristan, and nearly a crazed animal wanting revenge. He pulled the fur blanket up over his love careful not to inflict more pain upon him. "I swear to find whoever did this to you." Tentatively, Hannibal kissed Will's sweat slickened cheek.
"Where… are…we?" Will slurred trying to turn his head in Hannibal's direction.
"We're in front of the fire, on a pallet of furs, and silk pillows." Hannibal answered closing his eyes feeling the heat not only from the fire, but from Will as well. His fever had spiked higher. Hannibal would have to give him some fluids soon, as well as some antibiotics.
"Is this real?" Will fought to turn his head, his cheek finally touching Hannibal's brow. He coughed, feeling a weight pressing upon his chest denying him the chance to breathe deeply. All he wanted was to remain awake, to continue to listen to Hannibal and remember Tristan.
"Yes," Hannibal answered quickly. "I told you I would always find you. You alone matter to me." Will's breathing finally evened out, signaling he'd slipped back into his fevered sleep. Leaving his paramour, Hannibal went in search of some of the medical supplies he kept in the house; his main concern was an IV bag and a few vials of antibiotics.