After The Fall
I feel a presence, a closeness. As though through mists I can see him leaning over me. Close to my face, almost close enough to kiss. His hands are moving methodically, his eyes are focused on his work. He's sewing? I feel a painless tug at my cheek and hear him humming. I let myself recede back into the calling darkness.
I am falling
No light, but I become aware of a voice, his voice. He murmurs softly to himself, reading aloud. I am calm, it is calming. My body is weightless around me. I feel like a caterpillar in a cocoon. My chrysalis is not yet complete, it is too soon to return. I listen to the rise and fall of his words, and sink with them.
We are falling
My consciousness stirs and awakens fully at last. It is painful, unwanted. My eyes move but still darkness shrouds them. My mouth is dry, abandoned and wanting. My tongue can barely stir, sound can scarcely escape. I am at the brink of panic when I hear a rustling close by. A gentle touch and light enters. The tape and gauze covering my eyes is lifted and I can see.
His face is near once more as he lifts something to me. Cold consumes my senses as ice touches my tongue. Liquid runs down my throat and quenches a deep and primal need. I open my mouth for more and I hear him say, "Patience, Will." A moment passes and I receive another ice chip, then another. As each melts in turn I slowly regain my voice.
"Hannibal…"
"Shh, don't try to move. You've been unconscious for several weeks. Your face has nearly healed. There is muscle damage though, and we will need to begin physical therapy once the wound is fully closed."
He sounds clinical, detached. He busies himself checking the bandage on my cheek, and an IV in my hand. I take stock of my body. All limbs are present and I can weakly move my feet.
We are in a small room, stone walls and windowless. A lamp in the corner provides a warm light, the bed on which I lie supports me. He is sitting bedside on a wooden chair, disposing of the gauze and moving the bowl of ice away. He turns back from a small table and is moving deliberately, stiffly.
He is hurt too
He sits back in the chair and for the first time he allows his gaze to meet mine. His dark eyes are impassive, he could be looking at the page of a book. Am I a medical diagram to him? No, I am a recipe, ingredients, all pieces and parts to use as he will.
"You were badly injured in the fall, but you will live." There is no inflection in his voice, he is stating facts for the record. I blink and swallow and am no longer able to meet his stare.
I sit up slightly, look down at my hands and am aware for the first time of the straps binding me. He notices and I hear "They are for your protection, Will, as you heal. I didn't want you undoing any stitches."
I lean back against my pillow, the exertion has drained me. My eyes continue to take in the nondescript surroundings. I look at anything but him. Silence fills my ears, roaring like a waterfall until I can no longer bear it.
"Hannibal, I'm-" and the words die on my lips. What am I exactly?
Broken
Am I sorry? Is that what I am? If sorry, for what? Sorry that we lived? Sorry that we fell together? Sorry that I've hurt him? Sorry that we've hurt each other? Around and around we've gone, exchanging roles, predator and prey, the lines blurring until I lost myself in him.
I was lost
But he found me, time and time again.
I am found
Drawn to me, I to him. Both the moth and flame to each other. The fire consuming until there was no more I, no more He. Only the Us. I fought it for so long, fought harder against his pull than anything else in my life. But it was inexorable, unrelenting, and more than I ever dreamed it could be. I had given in, thinking myself strong, in control. Thinking I had power. But any power that I had, he had given me. It was all him, always him. We are each other, we are a part of each other. And we're together now.
At last
I sigh. All tension has released from my body. I am stiff, I am sore, I am healing...but I am not broken. I am whole now, he has rebuilt me. He has remade me in his own image.
I am his
My throat burns and tears prick my eyes. I am sorry, he needs to know.
"Hannibal-" I begin once more, but I feel his hand gently cup my unmarred cheek. We tilt my face down and once more can look into each other. His eyes shine in the lamplight, his touch is warm, steadying and reassuring. His look is soft, his smile welcoming.
"Will. You're home." I feel him release the straps on my wrists.
I am free