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Summary
Will doesn't recognize the reality presented to him. The ring on his finger is as foreign as Hannibal and Abigail's affection towards him. A coma and amnesia seems too cliche. What happened to the crime scenes, to the FBI, to his time loss? He was crazy, but not THIS kind of crazy.
Inspired by As the December Sun Is Setting by thisisthefamilybusiness
Will woke up choking, gagging around something thick pressing his throat apart, preventing him swallowing, breathing. He ripped it out, gagging and heaving and finally gasping relieved breaths when the length was gone. His skin was itchy, so itchy, several small itchy things stuck in his arms and on his chest, and he yanked them all off in panic.
Where was he? Pale walls and too bright light. Stiff bed.
Hospital?
Why?
He glanced down. He was sweating and naked under his cheap polyester gown, but nothing looked missing or broken. He was there, under the thin blue blanket, seemingly whole. Why the hospital?
He felt like he couldn't breath. His hands were sweaty where he scratched at his arms and chest. His body itched with the need to move, to squirm.
How did he get here?
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