Compassion

Emergence

**WARNING: THIS FIC CONTAINS CANNIBALISM, M/M SMUT, AND GRAFFIC DEPICTIONS OF VIOLENCE.**

I do not own any of the characters in this fic.

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The Atlantic was cold, and the tide pounded down around him as it crashed against the cliff face. Freezing hands pushed and pulled, guiding him ever deeper into the dark. It was calling to him, and he longed to fade away, leaving his pain behind. It was not to be. Strong arms wrapped around his chest, yanking him up towards the surface.

Will gasped as his head broke free, choking air into burning lungs. His head rolled limply back onto what he could only assume was Hannibal's shoulder as the older man dragged him towards a small rock patch that served as a shore. The stone was rough and painful on his back, tearing into already abraded skin as the doctor swung him up.

They laid there without words for a moment, chests heaving. Finally Hannibal let out a choked laugh. "Well done, Will," he chuckled, though wanting for breath.

The former police consultant closed his eyes, hoping it all might go away – but at the same time, not. "No greater love hath man but to lay down his life for a friend." Hannibal's words, utter moments before taking a bullet, rang in his mind. Will was unsure of what exactly he felt towards the man, but he supposed that whatever the variant, it was indeed love. Now he knew for sure that Hannibal did love him as well, though it was not his way to say it. Words like 'compassion' and 'friend' would have to suffice, and Will would just have to accept it as it was while he sorted out where his own compassion lay.

He was not allowed to rest for long, as Hannibal was soon examining the stab wounds in his face and shoulder. The rest he could handle, but as the doctor likely knew, these two could prove dangerous. Though it stung, the chill waters of the ocean had numbed his skin. He was hardly even shivering, something he knew was not a good sign but didn't particularly concern him at this moment. He let his friend – dare he call him that? – tend to him.

Will suddenly remembered that Hannibal too was hurt, probably worse than he was. He slowly sat up, wincing as the doctor's fingers jabbed at him. He ignored him and lifted the edge of his companion's shirt to inspect the bullet wound. It had passed clear through, meaning he wasn't going to have to dig it out. The only problem here was that he was now bleeding from two places and likely had severe internal hemorrhaging.

The wet clothes clinging to his skin were doing nothing to warm him up, and as he was lacking better options, Will moved his caretaker's hands and gingerly took off his shirt. Hannibal frowned, but at least helped him get it over his hurt shoulder. Realizing his plan, Hannibal followed suit.

They sat on the rock, shivering in the icy ocean spray as they patched each other, speaking no words as they moved in harmony. Will found a sort of peace in it, though his movements were clumsy since his fingers were stiff with cold. By some miracle he was able to maneuver his belt around Hannibal's waist and synch it to hold his temporary bandage in place.

"We have to warm up," He whispered, breaking the silence at last as Hannibal finished patching his shoulder and was moving to his face.

Dark eyes glinting in the moonlight, the doctor said nothing. He instead wrapped the remains of his once elegant shirt around Will's head to at least cover the stab wound. He nodded, standing and helping the younger man to his feet. They staggered, but Hannibal was able to get them to a hidden path that led up the cliff face. It was crumbling in places, and in some it seemed nonexistent. The elements had done well at their job of weathering the stone away. Will didn't think they would make it back to the top, as every misstep and slid backwards caused pain to jolt through him. He heard a sharp intake of breath from his companion at least once, though he didn't mention it. Not only was he focusing on keeping his breath, but he suspected that the normally stoic man beside him, who had barely behaved like a man in pain as he lay against the piano, would not like to admit that it hurt to move.

He was already supporting Will more than the younger man was supporting him in return.

They finally made it to the top, though the appeared to have come out a fair distance from the small house. The lights were still on, and though it might have been a trick of the eye, Will thought he could see the reflection of the moon on blood.

"Come, Will," Hannibal said softly, drawing the man's gaze from the scene of devastation and onto the path ahead. "We must keep moving."

They stumbled along together, arms around each other's necks to lean on one another. Now that they were on flat ground and moving, a dull ache was starting to fill Will's entire being. He was tired, and hurt, and he could finally feel the cold. He wasn't sure where Hannibal was taking him, but he didn't think he would make it. He wasn't sure exactly how long they'd been walking, but it felt like forever. The sun was beginning to rise already, and he struggled to remember if they'd sat on the rock that long or if it had all been movement.

His knees gave out, and the professor dropped to the ground. A soft sigh of shock escaped him as he landed on his hurt side, but he couldn't summon the energy to react beyond that. He was still in a haze of pain and cold. He was barely even aware of Hannibal lifting him, slinging him across his back, and continuing forward on increasingly unsteady legs. The jolting and swaying of his steps was somehow comforting, and Will was lulled into blissful darkness.

Author's note: Hey all! Hope you guys like the first chapter. I'm testing out this writing style for the fic, so let me know what you think! I'll try to update weekly, if not more frequently.  For more of my work, check out my blog at heatherwolffe.com