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"Your scarf," he noted curiously as she came into view, "you've taken it off."
Abigail nodded from the door way looking into the pristine kitchen.
"It was getting itchy," she answered.
She stayed by the door, watching the performance that was Hannibal making a meal. Today he was making French toast with oven roasted grapes and a hint of pinot noir.
Breakfast for dinner.
Her favorite.
The night before, he'd made arrangements with the hospital (much to Dr. Bloom's chagrin) and picked her up in the afternoon. She'd be spending the night over and didn't know how to feel about that. She was grateful but also uneasy.
He doesn't trust me.
Abigail hadn't forgotten the conversation they'd had days ago. His words echoed in her head as he gave her a tour of his home that ended in her room. He excused himself to make food, leaving her to explore her room at her leisure.
Abigail turned the knob and pushed open the door. The sight brought tears to her eyes.
The bed spread was a soft shade of mint with stuffed animals leaning on pillows. The bedside table and other furniture were hand crafted and of the highest quality of wood. She opened the closet and saw an array of expensive clothes that were picked for her taste. She ran her fingers through jeans, dresses, sweaters and everything in-between. The clothes ranged from casual to the formal attire expected at one of Hannibal's opera outings.
It was clear that this wasn't just another guestroom in the house. The room belonged to her.
"Is everything okay, Abigail?" Hannibal asked as he set the sliced grapes on a pan and smothered them with the grape seed oil and rosemary. "Was there something wrong with your room? I can change it if anything wasn't to your taste."
"No, of course not," she shook her head and stepped inside. "It's perfect. Everything is perfect."
Hannibal smiled and returned his attention to the meal, "Good. I'm pleased it was to your liking."
Abigail stepped closer, "Do you need help?" Hannibal noticed the hesitation in her movements.
He nodded and beckoned her closer, "Place the grapes inside the oven while I make the mix for the toast."
Abigail did as she was told. She placed the pan of grapes into the oven, but grabbed a grape and popped it in her mouth before closing the door.
"Tut-tut," Hannibal pulled her hand towards him and cleaned the residue of the grape seed oil from her fingers.
"Sorry, that was rude of me," Abigail said quietly. "And I know what you do to rude people."
Hannibal let go of her hand and set the kitchen towel on the counter. He studied her, weighing the words he'd use.
"You think I'd hurt you?" Hannibal asked in all seriousness, hints of genuine concern on his face.
"You're unhappy with me," Abigail began. "What I did nearly got us caught. You said so yourself you don't trust me-"
"I care for you, Abigail," he firmly placed his hands on her shoulders and looked her in the eyes. There was a mixture of concern and above all genuine affection reflected in his eyes. "We care for you, Will included."
Abigail nodded but he noticed she was still unconvinced. He decided against pressing the matter and patted the counter top. Abigail failed to reach the counter top on her own and let Hannibal help her up. She settled down and overlooked the way he prepared the meal. She'd watched him make a meal before but she was always drawn in by his precision in the kitchen. She wondered if that was the same precision he used when he killed and figured she'd rather not find out first hand.
His expert hands cracked the eggs and mixed in the milk, sugar, cinnamon and vanilla. He dipped the bread into the mixture and then carefully placed it in the skillet with a bit of butter. He handed her the spatula to flip the toast while he readied the syrup. He explained step by step how to make the syrup, mixing the wine, rosemary and letting it simmer for 15 minutes. She let his voice wash over her, lulling her into a sense of security and home.
Abigail took a bite from the first toast. She closed her eyes and savored the perfect balance of cinnamon and vanilla. She looked to Hannibal, well aware that once again, she'd acted out of line. She was pleased to see the look of content in his face. Like he was truly happy he had someone else to cook for other than himself.
"Good?" Hannibal asked, stirring the syrup into the mixture.
"Perfect," she responded, taking a piece and offering it to him. "Taste it."
Hannibal let her feed him, a sign of trust he hoped she understood. He swallowed the piece and hummed in agreement. They stayed in comfortable silence until the meal was done.
Instead of heading to the dinner table, Abigail asked Hannibal if they could have the meal in the kitchen. Hannibal indulged her, wanting her to know that he was true to his words. After clearing some of the mess away, Hannibal joined her on the counter top. They ate in silence. Both happy with the company the other provided.
Abigail knew this was bizarre. Her life had turned into a weird fairytale where the princess was a monster and had found someone to share her loneliness with. Here she was, sitting next to the man that'd called to warn her father and almost caused her death. Said man happened to also be a cannibal.
Yep, weird fairytale indeed.
"Does Will like French toast?" Abigail asked after some moments, picking at the remnants of grapes that swam in her syrup. "He looks like he would. Especially yours."
"I've never made him any," Hannibal answered, "Would you like to invite him next time?"
Abigail stayed silent and played with her food.
"I don't think Will would come," she answered. "He hates me ever since he found out about-"
"He doesn't hate you," Hannibal began, "he came to the dinner with Ms. Lounds-"
"He didn't look me in the eyes all night-," Abigail protested.
"Abigail, to be fair," Hannibal cut in, "William hardly makes eye contact."
Abigail snorted, "He left without saying goodbye."
"He was in a hurry-"
"In a hurry to leave me," Abigail saw the look of mild annoyance in his face. "Sorry, won't interrupt again."
Hannibal jumped off the counter and helped Abigail get down. She let herself be wrapped in his arms and felt him lightly kiss her forehead.
"He doesn't hate you, this was just a lot for him to take," he reassured. He sighed, noticing Abigail's worry. "Get some rest. Tomorrow morning we're going to a museum. Going out will help you clear your head."
Abigail smiled and kissed his cheek. She left the kitchen with her head bowed, leaving Hannibal concerned.
He returned to cleaning the kitchen, already formulating a plan to have Will change his attitude towards Abigail. He meant what he'd told Will in his office, it was up to them to care for Abigail. If Abigail felt she lacked support, then they were obviously doing a poor job. Hannibal resolved to put on hold any grocery shopping he had in mind, the least work Will had the better. It was a pity really, he'd have to go through his frozen supplies and that wasn't quite the same as fresh meat.
He was folding his apron when he heard the knock on the door, followed by the door opening and slamming shut.
"Hannibal?" Will called through the house. "Sorry for barging in-"
Will entered the kitchen, waving the spare key to the house, "Jack is driving me crazier if you'd believe it-"
"We need to talk," Hannibal agreed, putting the apron away, "We need to talk about Abigail."
Will dropped his messenger bag on the floor, panic taking hold. "Why? Did you get a call from the hospital-?" Will crossed the kitchen up to Hannibal. "Is she okay?"
Hannibal was pleased to hear the concern in Will's voice. This would make the conversation a lot easier.
"Abigail thinks you hate her," Hannibal began.
"I don't hate-" Will cut in.
"She is deeply upset." Hannibal leaned on the counter and crossed his arms. "Not only was Abigail assaulted, but she had the displeasure of killing another human being the only way she knew how. The way her father taught her to use the knife on an animal."
Will stayed silent, his eyes concentrated on the floor. Hannibal noticed Abigail's light footsteps stopping outside the kitchen and took advantage of the opportunity.
"Just as she's getting some structure in her life, the person she cares for steps away and leaves her on her own," Hannibal continued, loud enough for Abigail to hear. "Now more than ever, she needs to be nourished. We know monsters, Will. Abigail isn't one."
"I know that, and yes I'm upset but not for the reasons you think," Will took off his glasses and started pacing, "If you'd told me, I could've-"
"Turned me in?" Abigail asked quietly.
"- helped hide the body," Will corrected, looking towards Abigail and making eye contact. "I'd of made sure it was never found."
Hannibal blinked back surprise.
Abigail smiled, relief written all over her face. Will opened his arms and caught Abigail. He held her tight, and looked to Hannibal who wore a smile.
"I know I'm deemed unstable and maybe I am, but you and Hannibal are important," he reassured, not taking his eyes off Hannibal. "If there is ever anything I can do to help, I will."
Abigail woke up early in the morning after having gotten the best sleep in her life. Even when she lived at home, she lived with the fear that any day her father might get tired of the other girls and move on to her.
She picked an outfit from her closet and decided against covering her scar. She didn't need to anymore, she was with family and had very little to hide. They still had secrets of course. Will was either unaware or didn't want to see Hannibal's little secret, but then again, even the best of families have things best left uncovered.
She made her way downstairs and heard laughter coming from the kitchen. She entered the kitchen and found Will seated on the counter, eating French toast fresh off the pan. Will looked her way and patted the counter. Abigail joined him, after getting help from Hannibal first.
"You were right, Abigail," Will said in between bites, "The French toast is perfect."
"Will is going to be joining us for today's outing," Hannibal informed her, handing her a plate. "I hope you don't mind."
"Of course not!" She leaned on Will and noticed he still had last night's clothes. "It's like we're a family going on a trip."
"That's exactly what we are," Hannibal answered, locking eyes with Will. "A family."
Abigail knew this wouldn't last.
Will was Hannibal's undoing; they both knew that. Although Will was sincere in his words, one day he'd turn Hannibal in. Abigail knew what was in store, but chose to enjoy the present. If she'd learn anything so far, it was to take advantage of the here and now. And at that moment, she was happy.
At that moment, she had a family.