Abigail watched the dreary rain from the small, blurry window of the psychiatric hospital. There was a time when she found comfort in sunlight and sky blue days, but ever since what her father tried to do to her, she found peace alone. She found peace in the sound of the rain. She found peace watching the lightning, because no, the sunlight was all too painful.
She was almost a different person now. Almost. Though loneliness was peaceful, it was empty. Emptiness was what brought the painful memories back. Almost anything brought the horrors back. There was one thing she knew, though, she knew that sadness was better faced with company.
Strange feelings were overcoming her. She had the desire for someone to hold her and comfort her, something no one had done in long time. Her first instinct was to think of her father, but she shut her eyes tight and visions of blood and knives and kitchens during sunny mornings flashed through her eyes. Abigail opened her eyes, and it was gone.
She was in a psychiatric hospital surrounded by therapists and psychiatrists, but she didn't trust them. There was only two people left in the world that she could trust, and they were Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter. She didn't even have to think about who she would contact. Will was probably the sweetest person ever, but he was probably busy, and he would probably make her stay with Alana Bloom, and that wasn't what she needed.
Hannibal, on the other hand told her that he was almost never too busy for her. She smiled. He was probably the only one left in the world to love her. She took her phone out of a drawer.
Doctor Lecter, I'm not feeling well, and I would prefer not to stay with someone who has a needle in their hand. AH
She waited a few moments for his response. A familiar sensation of butterflies emerged in her stomach when her phone vibrated.
I've told you countless times that you don't have to call me 'Doctor Lecter.' Are you ill? In any circumstance, I would much prefer to take care of you myself. I would ask you to tell a nurse that I'm taking you with me, but I would loathe for you to be near more needles than necessary. HL
She loved the way he had with words. She wasn't one who's persuaded easily, but just the way Hannibal said things could make her do anything.
I'm not ill, I just feel a bit not good, I guess. Thank you. AH
She sighed, 'a bit not good,' really? Though Hannibal was lovely with his words around her, she thought she probably seemed to speak gibberish around him. It had been a week since Abigail saw Hannibal, and she missed the smell of his suit in his warm embraces. The only place she felt happy in was in his arms.
She opened the drawer which held her clothes and changed out of the satin pajamas she had been wearing. She slipped on a pair of black jeans and an emerald colored blouse. It was cold terribly cold outside, and she didn't have any of her sweaters with her, so she wrapped a teal shawl around herself.
Moments later she heard familiar footsteps and the heavily accented voice. She stood as she heard three knocks at the door. None of the doctors or nurses knock, it's funny how people don't care for manners around the insane. However, Hannibal was too polite for his own good. She opened the door warmly to see the face she had missed for an entire week.
Abigail smiled wider than she probably had the entire time she was in the hospital, "Hi, Doctor Lecter." Shoot, that sounded dorky, she thought.
He smiled back at her gently before wrapping an arm at her side in a quick hug. She couldn't stop smiling and she felt as if she was an absolute idiot. She decided to get a hold of her composure before she became some kind of giggly idiot in front of him.
She took her scarf from the table, Hannibal was the only one who was allowed to see the scar on her neck, considering that at one point he used his bare hands to stop the bleeding. He asked her once why she always wore it, and she told him, and he told her that it was absolutely ridiculous. He thought she had nothing to be ashamed of. On her birthday, however, he visited her in the hospital, and with him he brought an emerald choker necklace on a thick, black satin strap, which covered her scar beautifully. She left it at his house most of the time, because she didn't trust the nurses.
She practically lived with Hannibal now. He took her home on weekends because he said he 'doesn't want her to have her weekends to be miserable for something that her father did to her.' He'd basically let her stay with him when he was home so he could look after her, but when he was busy with work, he preferred her to stay at the hospital so that someone would look after her.
"Are you cold, Abigail?" he asked her, looking at her shawl.
"Yeah, they keep it freezing in here, perhaps to preserve dead bodies," she said bluntly.
He smiled at her, hoping she didn't figure out why he kept his house so cold. "Here, take my jacket," he offered, except not really because he wrapped it around her before she could object. She thanked him quietly.
They walked out of the doors in a steady pace. It was still the same, dreary, rainy winter morning that she had admired from her window, but now, it was suddenly more beautiful. Hannibal held open the car door for her as he always did. He was always too polite for his own good.
He opened the door for her, and she slowly walked to his couch. Hannibal followed her. He sat beside her, facing her. He put a hand on her cheek as he often would, but this time his hand traveled into her hair and led her head to rest on his chest. Somehow, he would always know exactly what she was feeling. With every stroke of his hand in her hair, he was able to make it all go away.
He kissed her temple, before smiling against her ear. "You know, Abigail, I myself possess many
'needles' as you refer to them, and yet here you are," he attempted to joke. Abigail's eyes widened. There was nothing she hated more than needles. She pulled away quickly.
"What!? What needles!? You don't have any right, you're kidding right?!" she panicked. Rarely would Hannibal tell a joke, but he would rather seem smug when he referred to casual things at dinner.
He smirked, smugly, "Actually, I still have my medical kit from when I was a surgeon. It would be a shame if I would have to..."
"Are you kidding me?! You didn't tell me you had needles! Aghhh," she exclaimed, hitting Hannibal in the shoulder with a pillow. She hadn't been so much like herself in a long time.
Hannibal laughed, "Oh, Abigail, you have no idea, my little sister and I used to-." he stopped, blank for a moment. Then he smiled again as if nothing had happened as he threw a pillow at Abigail. Abigail giggled as she threw one at him as well.
At one point, they were absolutely giggling and laughing like two teenage girls as the talked about how cute Will Graham was as the they threw pillows at each other. After about twenty minutes, they were exhausted and fighting for breaths as they laughed, landing in each others arms, curled up on the couch. Afterwards, Hannibal had apologized if he had injured her at all while throwing pillows at her.
She simply smiled as she stroked his cheek with her fingertips, "Oh, Hannibal, you're too polite for your own good."