A/N: This is an RP exchange between myself and another RPer - I write for Will in this, and she writes for Abigail, and we both took turns with the other featured characters. As the summary has indicated, this is an AU retelling of the Red Dragon storyline (both the book and the show), so it's a bit of a blend of all the mediums. Hopefully you enjoy!

CH 1: A Rocky Reuion

Will's head ached. Hunkered over his makeshift desk, he rubbed his forehead with one hand and perused a case file with the other, a flask of Scotch tucked neatly away in his coat pocket, were he to ever need it. Molly and Willy grounded him – supported him – but just the thought of having to return to this line of work made him horribly dependent. He hadn't even wanted to bother (Molly hadn't wanted him to bother, either), but Jack knew exactly how to get under his skin. Families – children – had been the victims splayed haphazardly across the crime photographs, and Will had immediately felt his old, rusted white knight complex kick in. He needed to think like the monsters just one last time.

"Knock, knock!"

Will looked up from the gory photos and scrunched his brow, only smiling faintly when Beverly Katz held up a bag of fast food. "You shouldn't have…"

"Oh, it was no trouble. I always stop by Bingo's Burgers after a long, hard day of arduous 'formaldehyde-sniffing.'"

Will grimaced. "No, I mean you really shouldn't have… I feel lousy enough as it is."

"Hmph. Suit yourself." Tossing the bag onto his desk, she moved around to have a seat along the edge, much like whenever they'd first met. "We have a conference meeting in fifteen minutes, just so you know."

Will's expression was withering. "If I'm expected to make any progress on this case, I would prefer to work alone. Once I've familiarized myself with the specifics, I'll regroup and ask for assistance, should the need arise."

Beverly snorted. "Fat chance. After the shit you pulled back at Quantico, Purnell has explicit instructions for you to be monitored at all times. In other words, I'm your glorified babysitter."

"And?"

"And I say it's time for our meeting. Now come along, champ. But first!" She held up a hand, finally appearing apprehensive. "There's something you should know… Our latest addition to the team is an acquaintance of yours."

Will shrugged. "Is that truly so surprising? Despite my aversion to social networking, I still manage to get invites to quite a few Christmas parties. Arguably, I know most people from 'back in the day.'"

Beverly rolled her lips inward, looking a bit uncomfortable. "Think more personal, if you can. Someone you lost contact with over the years, more specifically."

"That's absolutely everyone," Will muttered. Now rising from his seat, he added, "I don't have time for guessing games, Beverly. Just tell me who it is and let's get this over with."

"Abigail Hobbs."

The color drained from Will's face, his stance stiffening as if his spine had turned to impenetrable steel. Soundlessly opening and closing his mouth, he shook his head before choking out, "I'm sorry, I…did you say Abigail?"

Beverly nodded.

"And this was cleared by internal affairs? Christ, Katz, nobody told me I'd be working with my ward!"

"That's 'cause Jack didn't want you to know…he figured you wouldn't come if you did," she said, wincing at the underhandedness of her own statement. "But honestly, she won't get in your way. She's a bright, capable member of the team, and if I'm not careful, she just might steal my job." Laughing with the hopes of breaking the tension, she touched Will's elbow to get him to follow her. "Come on. We're all in the conference room."

"Unbelievable," Will muttered under his breath. Un-fucking-believable. He hadn't seen Abigail Hobbs since that fateful night in Hannibal's kitchen. After he'd been eviscerated, the girl had fled out the back and tried to get some help. She had been the only one to make it out of that night unscathed (or at the very least, physically).

Will wanted to know the specifics on how Abigail had managed to get into the FBI in the first place (or more accurately, how she'd managed to pass the screening procedures), but before he could rattle off a barrage of questions, Beverly led him into a semi-crowded room filled with photographs and a crime board. Instantly, Will's eyes searched for Abigail in the group of agents, but Jack intercepted him.

"Will, our team would like to compare their findings with your own, if you're up to it."

Again, Will's eyes slid toward the group in question, his jaw tensing when he spotted the one face he'd be able to recognize in a crowd of one million. His heart sped to a dangerous crescendo, and he nodded once, spluttering out a barely audible affirmative.

"Wonderful," Jack said, clapping a hand on his shoulder. To Abigail, he asked, "Miss Hobbs, would you care to start us off?"

Will swallowed sharply, watching her as she rose from her seat. She had the same bright, calculating eyes, but there was a lissome quality to her figure now, and a heavy, world-weary weight behind her gaze. He wondered if she'd thought of him as much as he'd thought of her.

Abigail fidgeted with her notes. The atmosphere in the room was buzzing like the air before the first lightning strike of a storm; everyone was waiting on the reactions of everyone else. Abigail could feel Zeller's eyes on her as they waited, and Jack's as well when he wasn't pacing the width of the room with impatience. It had been a little over four years since their "Red Dinner" – as Lounds had coined it – and none of these people had really changed.

She had.

But the idea of Will coming back to the FBI, the idea of working with him… It all made Abigail feel like a little girl again. She wondered how Will looked these days. She heard the rumors about Italy. She saw the articles in Tattle Crime. But it wasn't the same as actually seeing him.

With Will finally in the room, she couldn't think anymore. She had barely caught a glance of his dark hair before she instantly returned her gaze to her notes. She wasn't ready to face him yet. She wasn't sure she ever would be.

"Miss Hobbs, would you care to start us off?" Jack asked again, except more impatiently this time. His voice brought Abigail out of her head and she looked up, being sure to only look at her boss.

"O-of course," she said, standing up from the table. "Um, well, the papers have dubbed this man 'The Toothfairy' due to all of the biting. Clearly, it is a sign of dominance over his victims, and combined with the sexual nature of his M.O., he is more than likely impotent."

"He's quite the snaggletoothed son-of-a-bitch," Zeller added as he placed the killer's teeth casting onto the table. "My guess is, he's also ugly as hell based on the pegged lateral incisors. The teeth are all crooked, a corner is missing from this central incisor. The other incisor is grooved, here. It looks like a "tailor's notch," the kind of wear you get biting thread."

"Which is what makes me think that he's wearing dentures of some kind," Abigail said. "However, he gets in and out without anyone noticing a thing, so tracking down black market dentures will be near impossible."

As Abigail spoke, she saw Will watching her from the corner of her eye. It was distracting and flustering and she prayed she wasn't stammering. She sat back down and continued to avoid direct eye contact.

While Will listened, there was a slight waver in Abigail's voice, and it somehow pained him to hear her reluctance. After all, he very much doubted his being there was helping her nerves. From what he had been led to understand, this was her first real case.

"The guy's immaculate," Beverly spoke up, adding on to Abigail's assessment. "There are no fingerprints or fibers to analyze, which suggests he wore gloves and potentially murdered in the nude."

Will nodded once, barely able to focus. Even with everyone in the room, he could still only focus on Abigail's soft, oval face. He had once been asked if he hated Abigail for abandoning him, but his answer was always the same: no, never – he had told her to run. Between weakened breaths, he'd begged and pleaded until she'd turned on her heel and fled. He prayed that her demons were far less frequent than his own.

"Will?"

His gaze snapped up, stiffening once he realized Jack had addressed him.

"Don't you have anything to add?"

"I…" Swallowing thickly, Will released a breath before carelessly tossing his case file onto the desk. "The victims were all propped up along the walls, much like a captive audience. The perp, he…he wanted to see himself in their eyes – almost like a twisted form of adoration – so he placed the mirrors over top of their lids. He wanted them to see exactly what was happening to Mrs. Leeds." Head pounding, Will turned away a moment, suddenly desirous of his flask. "The man hates women. Or more accurately, one woman, and he's taking out his repression on innocent wives. Mothers."

"A misogynist who doesn't leave a trace, unfortunately," Price muttered. "He raped these women, and yet the bastard wore gloves…"

Will's brow furrowed. "No… I mean yes, you're right, but with Mrs. Leeds, there was a hint of talcum powder on her thigh. When you remove a glove, the powder will often come off the latex." Hands tensing, he bit out, "He touched her…he couldn't resist." To Jack, he added, "I had requested working on this case alone, so I intend to return to my desk at this time. I will confer on occasion to share my leads, but thus far, everyone has echoed my own investigatory findings." He motioned toward Price. "You should check Mrs. Leeds for prints once more."

Jack began to fiercely interject, but Will had already stepped out into the hallway. Twisting the cap off his flask, he waited a moment before unearthing it from his pocket, now ducking into his temporary office to have a moment in peace. That was when he heard the door click.

"For fuck's sake, Jack, I told you…" He rounded about viciously, only to feel the words die in his throat. "Abigail," he greeted, immediately pocketing his flask. "I apologize for my behavior, but…I'm busy. Perhaps Special Agent Katz can help you with whatever it is you need."

It wasn't a complete brush-off, per se, but he was far too flustered to deal with her on top of everything else.

Abigail could see just how tired Will was. The strain of even being at Quantico seemed to be taking its toll already, and it pained her to think of him doing so poorly.

"I don't think Beverly can help with what I need," she said with a small smile.

"You'd be surprised," Will muttered. "Katz can be very resourceful." Still not lifting his eyes, he could detect the softening in Abigail's posture as she stepped further into the room, her stance lingering slightly before she moved into the lamplight.

"It's good to see you, Will. I've missed you…" Abigail paused as she noticed the ring on his finger. "You got married." It wasn't a question.

Her words had the effect of shrapnel, each tearing into him more strongly than the last. Will flinched once, pained, before he irritably shrugged it off. "You knew where to find me," he said. "I left your psychiatric hospital my contact information…you chose not to reach out."

Wincing at his own bitterness, Will rounded his desk before sitting on the edge. He held his hands out before folding them in his lap. Perhaps someone had confiscated his information – the idea wasn't impossible – since he might have been deemed too raw a wound for her to handle. It would be completely up to her doctors.

Abigail once more drew attention toward his left hand, and Will followed her gaze, now twisting the wedding band in question. "Yes," he finally agreed, "I did. Her name is Molly…we're raising her son together." There was a slight smile as he spoke, and a perceptible softening around his eyes. Molly and Walter were the only factors in life that kept him sane. "I would've told you, but like I said…you weren't interested."

"It's not that I didn't want to visit…" Abigail's brow furrowed at the cold accusation. It didn't take a profiler to see that Will was trying to hurt her. He was trying to push her away, punishing himself for some unknown reason. "I left you at Hannibal's. I didn't think you'd want to see me." She breathed a sad laugh to herself. "I visited you in the hospital before you woke up, if that stands for anything…"

She moved a little closer. Admittedly, it hurt to hear he had a happy family. Will Graham and a picket-fence lifestyle – it didn't fit with the Will Abigail remembered. It felt forced and unnatural… But it wasn't her place to tell him that.

"Why would you think I wouldn't want to see you?" Will asked, jaw tightening. "You could've asked… You could've read my letters." He paused a moment, uncertain. "Did you read my letters? Or did you just go on making more assumptions?"

Abigail's confession made Will's acerbic words stop cold, his eyes lowering as he folded his arms. He had dreamed of her once, while comatose – he was certain of it. Had she been there during that brief moment of clarity?

"Nobody told me that," Will softly said. "I wish I'd known…"

Abigail shook her head, "I couldn't bring myself to visit. I know that's a lame excuse, but…" She trailed off and shrugged. She didn't really know how to explain herself. When she received the letters, she had been overjoyed, but when it came down to opening them, she couldn't do it. She couldn't bring herself to face Will after all that happened, and she was afraid of what they might say.

Shaking his head, Will wiped at his face before digging into his pocket. He unearthed his flask, no longer ashamed. After taking a quick pull from the silver container, he paused before gesturing toward her. "I don't suppose you want some?" Not that he was encouraging this behavior, of course, but his father had always taught him it was rude not to offer.

As Will pulled out his flask, Abigail felt herself frown. And then he offered it to her and she found herself taking it. The whiskey burned her throat, but she kept from coughing as she handed it back and licked her lips. All she could taste was the liquor and she found that disappointing, as she wanted more. What more she wanted, she was unsure of.

"It's in the past," Will finally said, taking the flask back from her warm, smaller hands. "If you can forgive me, then I'll forgive you." He took another sip, watching her from over the rim of the container. "For what it's worth, I've missed you, too… I always wondered how you've been getting along. I wanted to invite you out to Florida, but…" He trailed off, shrugging as he pocketed the flask. "It doesn't matter. What's done is done."

"If you want to see me in a bikini, you don't need to invite me all the way out to Florida." Abigail laughed, but then realized what she had said and turned bright red. "I mean… I… N-nevermind."

If Will had still been drinking, he surely would have spat out a mouthful of whiskey. Staring back at Abigail in glassy-eyed shock, he fidgeted a moment before diverting his attention toward the window, suddenly unable to meet with her gaze. "Nobody's ever worn a bikini on my boat, but… I suppose there's a first time for everything."

Clearing his throat, he added, "So, uh…what's going on with you? Are you saddled to some lucky guy?"

Deep down, a part of him resented the idea. He squashed the sensation just as quickly as it had come, refusing to look deeper into why that might be.

"No," Abigail admitted. "No, I'm not seeing anyone. My…uh…my history tends to attract only a certain kind of guy that doesn't really fit with being in the FBI and all that."

Abigail tried to smile, but it didn't work.

She appeared a little ashamed, and instantly, Will felt sorry for asking about her love life. "Who you attract has no reflection on who you are as a person," he assured her. "You're young and smart, Abigail…very beautiful, too. You'll find the right one after a while. You'll see." His smile grew sad and lopsided. "If it could happen for me, it'll happen for you."

"Yeah, whatever you say." She rolled her eyes cynically. Abigail had already resigned herself to remaining alone. "You know," she added, trying to change the subject, "I'm curious about how Jack got you back. I heard about the Verger incident, and can't imagine that you would want anything to do with," she motioned around the room, "any of this."

Will's smile faded. "What part of the 'Verger incident' are we talking here?" he coolly asked. His issues with the Verger family far surpassed what had happened at Muskrat Farm.

"Well, from Tattle Crime, I know your so-called 'honeymoon' didn't go so well, and Alana gave me the highlights of what happened to Mason Verger. Zeller wouldn't shut up about 'the trail' or 'the arrest.'I basically just have a simple understanding of everything. Jack wanted to keep me out of the loop as much as possible."

"Lounds' trash never tells the full truth – you know that," Will muttered. "What happened on that farm isn't important. In the end, Hannibal was apprehended, and that's all that matters." He screwed his eyes shut a moment, then opened them slowly. "We both have our share of scars, Abigail – deeper than anyone could ever imagine. But at this point in your life, I want you to try and let go of that burden and move forward. Our eyes are on the front of our head for a reason." He stepped forward then as if to touch her – perhaps even embrace her as he'd desired when they'd first reunited – but he finally moved away, feeling cold and dreary as he headed toward the window. "This case is difficult," he softly admitted. "I'm not so sure I can think like the monsters anymore… And although that's undoubtedly a good thing, it sure as hell isn't going to help you any."

Abigail winced. "You're avoiding the question," she said, "which I think is because you know Jack only wanted you because you can think like a killer, not like a profiler."

Will scowled. "I'm avoiding the question because Hannibal doesn't have a goddamn thing to do with this case," he bit back, and perhaps far too brusquely. "I've had to deal with him – unspoken and acknowledged – for the past five years now, so if it's alright with you, I'd much rather not dignify the elephant in the room."

"I just wanted to know how Jack convinced you to get back up here," she muttered, feeling attacked. She knew Will didn't mean it, but it still stung.

Unfair. Will knew he was being cruel, especially since Abigail had every right to discuss the man that had ruined both of their lives. With his grip tightening by his sides, he exhaled once and mumbled, "I'm sorry, Abigail…I shouldn't have snapped at you. Please try and understand that this is beyond difficult to not only be forced out of my comfort zone, but to also discover that my estranged ward is working on my case all in the same day. I know it's no excuse, especially since we've both suffered under Hannibal's influence, but…I'm trying. Truly."

Abigail flinched at Hannibal's name, and one of her hands absently moved to toy with the collar of her shirt near her infamous scar. Abigail did her best to imagine how hard all of this was for Will, but found that his exact feelings were, as always, just out of her reach. She was just a regular profiler, no better than someone like Alana. Will was uncontained and uncontrolled, empathic energy that she would never understand outside of how she had learned to lie to him. Hannibal had seen to that. Hannibal had tried to make her a killer…the same way he tried to make Will a killer.

After turning away from the window, Will slipped his hands into his pockets and slowly approached her. "Far be it for me to be presumptuous, but are you staying close by? I could take you out for dinner before dropping you off…" He waved a hand. "Not official dinner, of course – something that wouldn't attract attention, like a hole-in-the-wall fast food restaurant. So it may not be world class, but at least we'd be out of the media attention." He offered a frail smile. "Besides… I want to know what's been going on with you. We've got several years to catch up on, so I'd like to hear all about it. If…if you'll allow me the privilege."

"I have my place in the city," Abigail said. "If dinner wouldn't be weird, I think it could be nice to catch up." She was unsure of what she wanted around Will, and felt this was yet another situation where it would be best to follow his lead instead of taking it herself.

Will tried not to show his surprise. "You live here?" Naturally, it should have been expected. To commute to Quantico day in and day out would be exhausting (despite the fact that he had done so), but somehow, he had been expecting her to be in a hotel just as he was. It was difficult imagining Abigail with a home of her own. He cleared his throat. "Of course it's not weird," he assured her, even though he felt as if he were lying. "I'm the one who extended the invitation, so naturally, I'm interested in knowing what you've been up to. If it helps any, I'm…really proud." He lowered his eyes then, smiling despite his discomfort. "You've risen above the ashes, just as I knew you would. You're easily the bravest person I know, Abigail. Nothing can stop you."

Abigail blushed and looked at the floor as he praised her for a bravery she didn't believe in. "I'm the one who ran, Will. That's hardly bravery…"

Will swallowed past the dryness in his throat and exhaled. "You're wrong," he assured her. "You've been through so much – done so much – that you can't possibly be expected to show strength 24/7. And believe me, running away wasn't cowardly…it was smart. If you'd stayed, he would have killed you."

Abigail ignored the lump in her throat. Instead, she deflected with, "You never answered my question earlier… How did Jack get you to come back?"

"He knows my weaknesses," Will mumbled. "He showed me photographs of brutally murdered families…children. And despite the fact I knew the baiting was underhanded, I had to come. I can't let more people die because of my pride." He looked to Abigail curiously. "Isn't that why you joined the Bureau? To save lives? To undo the wrong you've caused by doing something right?"

Abigail thought about Will's question. She joined the FBI to prove everyone wrong. To prove that she wasn't doomed to be a killer like her father. But that already wasn't true, was it? She had killed people. Was she really trying to redeem herself?

Glancing at the clock on the wall, Will added, "Jack can't detain me for long, so I'm going to head on out. If you'd like to join me, now would be the time."

There was a pause between them and Abigail looked at her watch. Jack would probably assume she took off for the night to catch up with Will, and that was fine with her. "Lead the way," she said.

With a fond smile, Will held out his arm for her to take. When she accepted, curling her soft, warm hand into the crook of his elbow, he led her out toward the parking lot.

A/N: Kept things a bit slow-ish for the start. If you would like to follow either me (as Will) or my writing partner (as Abigail) on Tumblr, our URLs are empathicdesign and tinyripper. :) If you would like to follow me on my personal Tumblr, my URL is musicboxmemories. I post plenty of Hannibal-centric trash. ;) Anyway, this storyline is definitely an emotional roller coaster, so I hope you all will enjoy reading it as much as we did writing it! Admittedly, splicing our replies together takes a LONG time, so any encouragement helps to move things along. :) Thanks so much for reading!