"We're just fumbling through the grey, trying to find a heart that's not walking away."

- Mat Kearney; "Ships in the Night"

"Aftermath"

Will didn't know what the hell he was doing. Pure instinct had driven him back to Minnesota – had driven him to buy another ticket and return to the state of shrouded uncertainty. He didn't know what he'd find there...he didn't know, and that was what made him so hopelessly sick to his stomach.

Hearing the leaves crunch beneath his feet, he staggered up the walkway and fought back his nausea. Abigail was fine...she had to be.

Unholstering his gun as a precaution, Will drew the weapon in front of him and kicked in the door. It slammed into the wall with a reverberating 'bang,' then slowly creaked toward him, his body passing through before halting by the cabinets.

At first Will didn't see anything. His eyes scanned the room, focused and fearful, but that's when he caught sight of a shadowed figure rushing toward the back door. "Hey...hey!" he called. Racing forward, he gave a start when he tripped over a pair of bony ankles. Catching himself on the counter, a gasp caught in his throat when he realized there was a crumpled body at his side.

There was so much blood... Oh God, there was so much blood!

"Abigail!" he shouted. Feeling as though his legs were trapped in quicksand, he staggered over to her before dropping down to his knees. Not caring that his slacks were now covered in gore, he placed his hands on either side of Abigail's face and trembled. She was still breathing and warm to the touch.

With his hands moving to cradle the back of her skull, he turned her head and paled at the sight of a grisly, clotted mess where her left ear had once been. But more curious still, the wound had been cauterized. Whoever did this hadn't wanted her to die.

Stroking along the purplish bruise on her forehead, he realized that she might have a concussion. It would be wise to wake her up. With a grunt, he hefted her into his arms – albeit gingerly – and headed with her through the house. While in search of the bathroom, he cradled her against his chest, reveling in the fact that he could feel her warm, gentle breath against his neck. It meant she was alive...it meant she was still safe.

Feeling her slouch further against him, Will finally found the bathroom and flicked on the light. To his surprise, it had a very feminine, old-fashioned décor, including a large claw foot tub by the sink. It was obvious that Mrs. Hobbs had been the decorator.

Gently lying Abigail across the bathroom rug, Will peeled her bloody, russet-colored jacket off her shoulders and tucked it beneath her head. She stirred slightly, her brow puckered. Stroking the side of her face, he waited a moment before lifting her sweater. When the garment slid over the swell of her soft, modest breasts, Will respectfully averted his eyes and tucked the sweater by the tub. Turning his attention to her jeans, he immediately became frustrated by their tightness. Each time he tugged on the pant legs, the waist band would also tug down Abigail's underwear. Embarrassed and blushing profusely, Will grasped the elastic of her panties and attempted to keep them in place. Finally managing to shimmy the jeans down to her knees, and without exposing her, the rest of the removal was much simpler.

Abigail was now spread out like a bloody angel. Her hair fanned around her head like an auburn halo, and her spanned, extended arms almost reminded him of wings.

Bending over the tub, Will turned on the water and applied the plug into the drain. He sat on the lip testing the water, his gaze dropping to Abigail every few moments to see if she'd awoken. She was still unresponsive.

Once the tub was filled and sufficiently warm, Will got down on bended knee and lifted Abigail into his arms. Her head flopped back, but he was careful to support her as he eased her soft, slender body down into the pool of water. Ripples formed around her limbs and lapped against the sides of the tub, causing a bit of water to slosh unceremoniously onto the floor. Will cursed when it dampened his leg.

Once again Abigail stirred, but still she did not awaken. Grabbing some soap, shampoo, and a wash cloth from the toiletry rack on the back of the tub, he hovered over his ward with a bit of uncertainty. He didn't want to scare her if she finally awoke, but he also knew it was important to get her clean. And what's more, who had hurt her? Who had known they'd be there that day?

Will frowned. Applying a bit of soap to the wash cloth, he moved to lightly dab at the crusted blood around her injury. The moment he touched her skin, Abigail's eyes snapped open and she fearfully grasped his wrist. "No," she sobbed. "No, no, no, please…"

"Abigail?" Will beseeched, now moving in front of her wide, panicked gaze. "Abby, it's me…it's Will Graham!" He cradled her face and tried to get her to look at him. She seemed unseeing at first, but after a moment of sheer terror, her eyes finally widened in recognition.

"Will!" she sobbed. Lurching across the tub, she surprised him when she fiercely embraced him around the middle. Her face buried into his shirt and her short, bitten nails dug into his waist as she struggled to get closer. It was almost as if she were trying to bask in his presence.

Perplexed, Will placed his hands on her head and carded his fingers through her long, blood-matted hair. "You're going to be ok," he soothed. "I'm just going to clean you up, and then we can go to the hospital."

"No hospital," Abigail begged. "I was told Jack Crawford was looking for me…please, we have to stay here!"

Will wasn't quite sure what she was talking about, but he nodded, not wanting to upset her any more than he already had. "Alright," he gently agreed, "no hospital."

Abigail instantly relaxed. As she laid back down and spread out, she glanced at her body and raised an eyebrow. "Why am I in my underwear?"

"I…I didn't think it'd be appropriate to…um…"

She smiled, amused by how he helplessly shrank beneath her scrutiny. "Thank you," was all she said.

Only mildly appeased, Will kept his gaze on the floor as he moved the wash cloth back toward her ear. The crusted blood soon became diluted, and he carefully wiped around the wound until it was clean. Every so often Abigail would flinch, but for the most part her face remained docile and unchanging. Now he needed to tend to her blood-matted hair.

Spotting a cup used for rinsing on the sink, Will brought it over and filled it with water. "Are you…are you in a lot of pain?"

"Not really."

He nodded, appearing a bit apprehensive. "I-I mean, I could give you an aspirin if your ear hurts… You don't deserve to be in pain."

Abigail's eyes darkened. "Some people like pain."

"Do you?" Will froze, unsure of why he'd breached such a sensitive subject.

She looked up at him then, expression slack as she said, "It's the only thing I've ever known. It's kind of hard to dislike something you're used to."

Will winced. It killed him to hear her say things like that. "Don't," he pleaded. "Maybe someday things will be different."

"Yeah," Abigail agreed. "Maybe."

Though Will knew she was probably only saying this to appease him, he was glad at the thought of her possibly meaning it.

"I'm going to wash your hair now, ok?"

She nodded.

Trembling a bit, he scooted closer and held the cup in his hands, now a little uneasy as he gazed down at her. He'd bathed his dogs plenty of times, absolutely, but this was a human girl…and what's more, it was Abigail, one of the few people who truly mattered to him.

Will swallowed. Now pouring a light stream of water from the cup, his cheeks flushed as Abigail leaned her head back, a decidedly intimate look crossing her face as he stroked her hair. She was so beautiful, and it felt wrong to realize that.

Placing a hand on her brow, he slowly, carefully brushed his fingers through her hair and rubbed down to the back of her head, a contented sigh escaping her lips as her back arched. Will trembled. By now her lingerie was becoming a bit translucent, and the sensuality coupled with the warm water made Abigail's body respond. The evidence of this strained against her thin, non-padded bra. Flustered, Will rubbed her temples and smoothed her hair back, ensuring that there wasn't anymore blood or soap in her soft locks.

"A-alright," he stammered. "You, uh…your hair's clean now."

Abigail blinked up at him, her gaze bright but drowsy as she urged, "More."

"More? W-what do you mean?"

Taking him by the wrist, Abigail drew his hand down so that the cloth nestled between her clothed breasts. Apparently she wanted to be bathed in every sense of the word.

"Abigail," he warned, "Abby, this is inappropriate…"

"Please," she begged. The tense, desperate tone of her voice made his resolve crumble. Pushing her hair back over her shoulders, Will stroked his hand down her arm and moved the wash cloth, the nappy fabric brushing across her neck and chest. When he ran the cloth back up toward her ear, Abigail flinched and water sloshed onto his slacks.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Abby," he whispered, voice strained.

"I know," she whispered back. "I just…I wish I'd known that before I found him waiting for me, and…and…" Unable to finish, she ducked her head and choked on a sob.

Will knew better than to question what had happened. He would ask in the morning – for now he was only interested in getting her better. "Don't worry about it," he soothed. "Do you have any clean clothes left in the house?"

"Maybe…if not, I could always check my parents' room."

"Ok," Will agreed, "but first let's get your dried off. Can you stand?"

"I think so…"

Getting up on shaky legs, Abigail stumbled as she felt Will's hands come beneath her arms to support her. His strong, sturdy frame was practically pressed into her back, her eyes closing as his breath came out hot against her neck and caused her skin to prickle.

"You ok?"

Abigail nodded, still trembling as she stepped out of the tub. Will grabbed a towel from the closet and began to dry her off, his hands briskly moving the fabric over her arms and legs as she stood there.

"You'll be ok," she heard him promise. "You've lost a decent amount of blood, but as long as you get some rest, you'll be fine. Do you think you'd like to go to bed now?"

The thought of returning to her old room seemed odd somehow, but Abigail took a quivering breath and nodded. "Yeah, ok…but what about the clothes?"

"I'll go check."

After being instructed on where to find her parents' bedroom, Will left Abigail to her own devices and went in search of something for the girl to wear. The Hobbs' closet was empty, for the most part – their belongings had easily been auctioned off to obsessive fanatics – but amidst the bare hangers hung a few flannels and a hunting coat. Grabbing the largest shirt he could find, Will returned to Abigail and laid the garment on her bed.

"Aren't you going to stay?" she asked, watching him as he turned to leave.

Will paused. Hand lingering on the doorway, he hunched his shoulders and said, "You need your privacy…I'll be just down the hall."

"You've seen my blood," she countered. "You've seen me at my most vulnerable... I don't think a few body parts would be worse than that, so please…stay with me."

Will pressed his forehead to the doorframe. Despite the apprehension eating him up inside, he knew he could never deny her anything. "Alright," he softly agreed, "but I'm keeping my back turned."

"Ok."

He heard some rustling then, followed soon after by the telltale sign of disrobing. It shamed him to realize he was imagining her movements – quick and fluid as she shimmied the flannel over her nudity. When she gave a sudden, "Done!" he jumped and caught himself against the doorjamb, blinking as he turned in surprise.

Abigail tried not to smile, her body practically being swallowed up in her father's shirt. It was odd – disturbing, even – to realize that he and Garrett Jacob Hobbs had a similar wardrobe.

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"Aren't we going to get into bed?"

Will blanched, staring at her with such a comical expression that Abigail almost laughed. But due to her insecurity, all she could do was gaze up at him with wide, imploring eyes.

Finally, Will gave a feeble, "I…I was going to sleep on the couch."

"No!" Embarrassed by her sudden outburst, Abigail tried again, but much softer this time, "Sleep with me, please. When my parents were alive, they'd let me sleep with them when I got scared."

Will's gaze softened. "Are you scared?"

She shrugged, absently rubbing her clothed arms. "I almost died tonight… I think it's pretty safe to say that I'm still shaken."

Will nodded, considering this. Now ushering her toward the bed, he tried to stop blushing as he pulled back the covers.

Sliding beneath the sheets, Abigail observed his clothes and asked, "Are you really going to sleep like that?"

"Like what?"

"Y'know…in your pants? Most people can't get comfortable like that."

Swallowing, Will rasped, "I…I think I can manage."

"You don't have to 'manage' because of me…I don't mind."

Will gazed down at Abigail's upturned face, taking note of her soft, genuine smile as she scooted over. "If you don't want to take everything off, you can just get rid of your pants."

Will pressed his lips together, rolling them inward. Turning around, he waited a beat before undoing the buckle to his belt, his hands shaking a bit as he unfastened his pants and slid them down to his ankles. Will hated how he couldn't say no to her – how he could never deny her a single request. Even if her desires were utterly humiliating, he found himself ready to bend over backwards for her every command. He wondered if she even knew the amount of power she had over him.

Sitting down on the edge of the bed, Will removed his blood-spattered flannel and tossed it onto the floor, now only in an undershirt and boxers. He felt Abigail's eyes burning into his back, but still he didn't turn around. Instead, he laid down and pressed his face into the pillow, finding that it smelled of Abigail's soft, clean femininity.

"Tell me a story."

"Hmm?"

"About your childhood…tell me something to help me fall asleep."

Will laughed at that, finally turning over to face her. "Are you saying I'm boring?"

Abigail grinned. "Maybe…I guess it depends on your story." Scooting in closer, she rested her cheek against her sandwiched hands and smiled. "Talk."

"Well, at least you didn't say 'speak'…everyone's dog jokes get a little old after a while," Will teased. Smile gradually fading, he shifted and allowed her to move closer still. "What kind of childhood story are you hoping for? I wasn't a princess locked away in a tower, so I'm afraid it won't be as interesting as a fairytale."

She laughed softly. "Fairytales are for children, Will – it's the real life stuff that holds true merit."

He gave a wry smile. "You sound like you've been talking to Dr. Lecter a tad too much."

With a sharp intake of breath, Abigail burrowed against Will's chest and clutched at his shirt with clawed, desperate fingers. Bemused, Will cradled the back of her head and rested his cheek against her hair, unsure of what had triggered the sudden need for intimacy.

"Tell me about your dad," he heard her whisper. "Was he normal?"

"Define 'normal.'"

Abigail paused, pressing her cheek into his chest as her palm opened flat across his heart. "Every dad who isn't mine is normal," she mumbled. "Tell me something about your dad."

Will's expression grew wistful. "There isn't much to tell…"

"Tell me anyway."

Stroking absent circles along the curve of her spine, Will kept his gaze straight ahead and thought a moment, unsure of where to start. He and his father had been relatively close. When his mother left them, there had been no one else to turn to but each other. If for no other reason, he blamed the majority of his discomfort with people – women, especially – on her sudden abandonment.

"He was a mechanic," Will hesitantly began, "and…uh…we fished a lot in his boat. He repaired boats too, so we got to meet a lot of colorful people that way."

Abigail smiled. "Did he ever get into it with a customer?"

"Sure."

"And was he good to you?"

Will faltered, his eyes growing glassy as he gave a tremulous little smile. "Yeah," he softly agreed, "of course. He was the best friend I ever had." His voice broke a little, and Abigail's smooth hand came over his cheek.

"Do you miss him?"

"Abby…"

"Humor me, please," she entreated. "I just want to know what it's like to love someone, and to know that they actually love you back."

Will hesitated. "You don't think anyone loves you?"

"It doesn't matter…"

"If it matters to you, it matters to me." Feeling her hand slide off his cheek, Will balked when Abigail embraced him soundly around the middle, her face nuzzling into the crook of his neck as she shivered. Gaze softening, Will placed a hand on the back of her head and stroked her hair, his chin resting atop her crown as he flushed with pleasure. Did she feel safe? As selfish as it sounded, he wanted her to need him…to want him to protect her. He'd give anything to be what she needed. No matter what Alana said, he knew he could be her everything – Abigail was his, so why couldn't the sentiment be reciprocated?

"Will?"

He shifted a bit, his arms drawing her in closer. "Hmm?"

"Are you mad at me?" Her voice sounded small in the dark, and Will blinked as she slowly raised her eyes to his. "I was the lure," she weakly reminded him. "You seemed upset earlier…do you hate me?"

Will released a breath, his hands shaking as he smoothed them down her arms. "No," he gently assured her, "I could never hate you."

"Then…would you have done the same thing? I-I mean, my dad said it was me or those girls, so…is that what you would've done?" Her eyes were wide and desperate, begging him to tell her what she wanted to hear.

Will sighed. "Abigail, your father was a monster – as bad as it sounds, sometimes we need to succumb to darkness to survive. I can tell you feel guilty about it, so that in itself should be your answer."

Abigail swallowed. "B-but I'm a monster, too…I helped."

"We're all monsters, Abby – it's just that some of us are better at hiding it than others."

"But you're not a monster," she pointed out. "At least, not to me."

Will recalled how in his deepest, innermost thoughts he'd held Abigail close, his lips grazing her cheek before delivering the merciful death blow. The memory made him quake.

As Abigail laid there trembling, he reached out and gently encircled her hands. "You're going to be alright," he soothed. Even if he was terrified by his own demons, he at least wanted to make her feel safe.

"I know," she whispered back, "and you're going to be alright, too."

Bemused by this revelation, Will felt Abigail take his arm and turn over, now draping it across her waist as she tried to get him to spoon her from behind. He shifted, reluctant about the sudden intimacy. But knowing how she only wanted a scrap of comfort, he forced himself to relax and return her embrace, his face burying into the nape of her neck as he pulled her close. When his arms came more fully around her waist, he felt her reach down and squeeze his hands.

"Thank you."

A lump formed in Will's throat and he nodded, swallowing before squeezing her back.

As both lost souls drifted off to sleep, they soon succumbed to the most tranquil repose they'd ever known.

A/N: If you'd like to see the picture that accompanies this one-shot, go to my Tumblr at made-in-the-80s, or go to my profile and click on the link that says "WILL x ABIGAIL FAN ART." This was also inspired by Bored Man Overboard's song "Abigail" - the lyrics seem like they were written for them!

This was requested by abigram on Tumblr. I feel really badly about taking forever and a year to complete the prompt, but I kept getting stuck on all the fluff. It seems I'm better at writing tragedy. In fact, I almost did make this a tragedy, but decided that I'd had enough damn angst to last me a lifetime. See, originally I wanted to make Will save Abigail, only to wake up and realize that he'd only dreamed of rescuing her. But then I remembered that we practically got that on the show, so I didn't want to do that to myself (and you guys) all over again. Instead, you've got the steaming pile of fluff you see before you! lol

Anyway, even though I'm not particularly pleased with how this turned out, it still took a lot of time and effort, so I'd love to hear what you guys think. :) If you review, you'll get some people cookies! ...And by people cookies, I mean legit cookies in the shape of people, cuz I'm not THAT crazy. ;) I'd also like my readers of "Anthesis" to know that I haven't forgotten about it - I'm just having major difficulties since I want the reunion scene to be perfect. It's always difficult writing those type of scenes. I've got Will, Abigail, Hannibal, and Alana to juggle with in that scene, so God only knows how it's going to end up. BUT IT WILL GET DONE! ...Someday. ;)

P.S. The "shadowed figure" who escaped in the beginning was Hannibal, but I guess that's kind of a "duh" moment. I just wanted to clarify in case anyone was wondering where he was. I didn't think it'd make sense for Hannibal to leave Abigail behind (because in my mind, he either really DID kill her, or he just cut off her ear and took her with him), so I had Will come in before he could take her away. A "plan interruptus" thing, if you will. And...yeah. I'll stop talking now. lol