The pain in the side of Abigail's head was unbearable.
It was the first thing she became aware of, and it was so intense that she couldn't think of anything else. She was vaguely conscious that she was on her back on a hard, lumpy surface, but that was completely inconsequential compared to the feeling that her right ear was on fire.
She whimpered and lifted a hand to press against her ear, but her fingers met not the familiar texture of hair and skin, but a wad of something rough and sticky.
"Ahhh..." Her throat was dry, but not so bad that she couldn't whimper. When she touched the rough, sticky thing, fresh pain shot through her head, and her body jolted reactively. Her left foot connected with something hard and unyielding when it twitched.
"Abigail."
A voice. A familiar voice. Patient and clear.
She managed to open one eye. The world was blindingly bright, and she shut it again quickly, but she didn't have to see anything to recognize who was speaking. She knew that voice, that accent – she had known it from the first time she had heard it. "Ha...a?" She couldn't make her tongue do what she wanted.
"Can you hear me?" he asked clearly, and she managed to nod. "Can you speak?"
"Ha... Hannibal," she managed, and felt his hand rest steadily on her arm.
"Good," he said. "I was beginning to worry about you. The dose of morphine I gave you was quite strong."
The words took a long time to sink in. Abigail's brain felt clumsy, like every thought she was having had to wade through mud to make itself known. She had to repeat what Hannibal had said several times back to herself to be sure she really understood it – though perhaps that had more to do with what he had said than how well her mind was working.
"Morphine?" Questions were rising up in Abigail's mind now, faster and faster, and she forced her mouth to form words, no matter how she had to labour for each syllable.
"To numb the pain."
"Why... pain?"
"Your ear, Abigail."
Her ear. She reached up again, and her fingers clamped down over the mass on the side of her head. It came away in her hand.
Abigail's eyes flew open. She was dazzled for a moment, but the light was not so bright that she could not squint at what she was holding. It was gauze, folded into a neat, tight pack, and stained brown and red. Her thumb passed over the brightest red spot and she felt that it was wet and warm.
She looked up, and Hannibal came into focus – first his silhouette against a light, and then the details of his expressionless face. He was standing over her, and looking at her head. At her ear.
The gauze fell from her fingers, and she raised her hand slowly and touched her ear.
Or, rather, she touched the place where it should have been.
All she felt was a raw, sticky wound.
Abigail screamed and jolted upright. Her head spun, and she scrubbed her hands desperately against the sheets. Hannibal's arms were around her in a moment, holding her firmly against his chest, but she struggled and writhed, shrieking all the while.
"My ear! My ear!" The words came out slurred and messy, but she couldn't have made them clearer if she tried.
"It had to be done, Abigail," he said calmly.
"Where is it?"
"I will explain everything when you are calm enough to understand."
Calm? Calm? How could he possibly expect her to be calm? How could he sound so calm? She tried to pull out of his arms, but he was much stronger than her, and kept her pinned in place. Her screaming dissolved into tears of pain and panic, and he used one hand to caress her hair.
"What happened?" she sobbed. "What?"
He didn't answer, just kept stroking her hair and rocking her gently back and forth until she was exhausted with shrieking and crying. When all she could do was hang limply in his arms, in shock, he finally relaxed his grip on her. She slumped backwards and her head cracked against the wall.
"Are you better?" he asked, and Abigail nodded numbly, though better certainly wasn't how she would describe herself. She just didn't have the energy to continue to express how far she was from anything that could be described as "better".
"What happened to my ear?" she asked at last, forcing the words out very slowly and evenly.
"What do you remember last?"
She swallowed, and began to shake afresh. She closed her eyes, then opened them again quickly. Closing her eyes brought the memory too close. "A... asking you if you- you were going to kill me."
Hannibal's face didn't change. He blinked at her patiently. "And what did I say? Do you remember?"
"You said..." The scene had become hazy in her mind, though whether that was the effect of the morphine on her memory, or whether she had simply become hysterical with fear. "You said that you couldn't protect me in this life."
"That's right."
"So..." She was almost afraid to say it, for fear that she would inspire him to change his mind. "Why aren't I dead?"
Hannibal didn't answer at once. He took her hand and stroked it, turned it over in his, traced the lines on her palm with his thumb. "You are a daughter to me, Abigail."
She stared at him dumbly.
"You don't believe me."
"My ear."
"Removing your ear was a necessity."
Removing. Removing her ear. Removing her ear was a necessity. Because she was like a daughter to him. She touched the side of her head again.
"Where... is it?"
"Perhaps now is not the time," he said, and stood up. Abigail lurched to her feet and grabbed at him, more for support than to try to keep him with her. The ground was uneven beneath her feet – or perhaps it only seemed that way. He caught her and guided her back down to the bed.
"Tell me what's happening!" she demanded, and the words came easier now, though whether that was because her mind was really becoming clearer, or because some sort of instinct had taken over, she wasn't sure. "I don't understand! Where am I? Where's Will, where's Doctor Bloom? You have to tell me right now!"
Hannibal sat down again, folded his hands in his lap, and leaned back.
"Will is in prison," he said. "For your murder."
Abigail blinked at him, and he looked back with a face so impassive that he might have just told her that Will was at the grocery store, picking up asparagus. She couldn't even figure out what to say. She doubted that, even at her most lucid, she would have known what to say to that.
"But..." she said at last, "I'm not dead."
"You and I know that, Abigail. Will does not, and the people who will be convicting him certainly don't."
"So... you're framing him."
Hannibal's mouth curved up into a terribly self-satisfied little smile. "Yes."
"For my murder."
He inclined his head, something between a nod and a bow.
"Why?"
"The Chesapeake Ripper needed to be arrested."
"You framed him for all your murders?"
Hannibal smiled again, rather indulgently. "Certainly not. Only for the murders attributed to the Chesapeake Ripper."
"Oh." Abigail shivered. She almost asked how many murders he'd committed that weren't attributed to the Chesapeake Ripper, but she kept her mouth shut – it was asking a question like that that had gotten her in this place to begin with. She was probably better off not knowing, anyway.
"Believe me, Abigail, I did this for your sake as much as for mine."
She stared up at him with utter disbelief. "You pretended to kill me to get Will sent to jail."
"What do you think would have happened if I did not? You would be arrested for assisting in your father's crimes. There would have been nothing I could do to protect you. This was the best option for both of us."
"So..." Abigail swallowed hard. "What are you going to do with me now?"
Hannibal reached out and cupped the spot where her ear should have been. His thumb traced around the raw skin. The gesture would have been tender if it hadn't stung so much.
"For now, I am going to ensure that you have a safe place to rest," he told her. "You are in my home now, and can expect no one to intrude. And then..."
"Then?"
He considered, then shook his head. "All in good time, Abigail. For the moment, what you need is to recuperate. When you are fit to be active again, then..."
"Then?"
He smiled, and it would have been sweet if the circumstances hadn't been so sinister.
"You will be very happy with me, Abigail. I promise."
