CH 1: Breaking the Ties That Bind
Nausea clawed at Abigail's gut, making her sweat and reel as she watched Hannibal do the dishes. How could he be so calm – so composed – when disaster was surely on their heels?
Finally unable to take it, she asked, "Are we going?" Her tone held a sharp bite of defiance, but if Hannibal noticed it, he didn't indicate as such when he lifted his head.
"We're waiting for Will," he said. "I want you two to be together."
Paling, it was then that Abigail realized she had never been her own person – not with her father, not with Hannibal, and most certainly not with the flimsy delusions she'd built around her heart. She'd never been given her own agency. Hannibal dangled it over her head like a tantalizing, shiny new toy, and yet it was always just out of reach. And now, she realized, she would soon belong to Will.
"Why…?"
"You are a present," Hannibal said. "He desires you, and that should be enough."
Desires? Head swimming, Abigail frowned as she struggled to make sense of what she was being told. Hannibal had talked up Will's love many times, of course. He'd said that they would be together soon, a family, and that it was what he and Will had always wanted. But deep down, Abigail couldn't help but be skeptical. Will had never seemed to be on the same page as Lecter. He was fond of her, she knew, and yet Will couldn't see beyond the comforting lies he'd cloaked them in.
"Will doesn't want me," she tightly said.
Hannibal set down a glass. "Nonsense, Abigail. When I last spoke to him, he spoke of desiring your companionship – of teaching you how to fish."
"He only cares for the idea of me." And so do you. I'm not her – I'm not Mischa! No matter how hard you try and make me be!
The front door clicked then, startling Abigail so badly that she nearly toppled over. "You left the door unlocked?"
"Will is expected," Hannibal said plainly. "I feel no need to shut out our guests."
"But…does he expect me?"
Finally, Hannibal set down his dishes and spared her a cold, calculating smile. She had never before realized just how inhuman and wrong his affection looked.
"You were always meant to be a surprise," he said. "You are the one good thing in his life…the one he desires most."
In other words, she was a bargaining chip. Abigail felt sickened by the thought, and fearfully, she kept her back facing the hall as she heard Will's steady, tentative footsteps.
"Dr. Lecter?"
The formality of his call gave Abigail pause. If Will truly desired this – if he wanted to be a family – why had he reverted to last name greetings?
Will called Hannibal's name again, and then suddenly, the footsteps stopped directly behind her.
Nobody moved.
With her breath rattling in her lungs, Abigail tasted the tang of bile as she and Hannibal locked eyes.
"Hello, Will."
"Abigail…?"
Digging her nails into her clothed elbows, she slowly, fearfully turned and beheld Will's wide, injured blue eyes. She saw so much pain gazing back at her – relief, then sadness, and finally, the cutting sting of betrayal.
"How long?" His voice was harsh like a whip, but it was directed at Hannibal and not her. "How long have you intended to keep her from me?"
"For as long as it was necessary," Hannibal said. "I needed to know you were ready."
"For what?"
"For my gift."
Fearfully looking to Abigail, a sickening realization fell and Will shook his head. "She was never yours to give."
"I would've thought you'd be far more pleased."
While the men bickered, Abigail grew acutely aware of Hannibal's hand as it came over her shoulder. His fingers tightened, and then she was suddenly thrust back against his chest, the deadly curve of a knife now glimmering beneath her chin.
"No," Will choked. "No, no, no, this isn't you – Abigail hasn't done anything wrong!"
Hannibal wordlessly met his gaze, and with a sickening flow of panic, Abigail realized more than ever that she was expendable. There had never been a place for her in Italy. If she'd managed to convince Will to comply, her presence would be an unexpected bonus, but it had never been the ultimate goal. And now that she was no longer serving her part, Hannibal was fully prepared to rend her from the face of the earth. He'd lied to her…
'I always keep my promises, Abigail.'
No, Abigail wanted to scream, you don't. You don't, you don't, you don't!
Fumbling with the gun in his hands, Will's expression turned steely and he clicked off the safety. "This is between you and me, Hannibal. Just let her go."
Again, Hannibal said nothing. Though when he took note of Will's shaking hands, he had to smile. Will couldn't kill him – not even if he wanted to.
The distraction, however slight, gave Will the leeway he needed and he aimed off-course, firing and striking Hannibal's dominant shoulder. Lecter snarled, stunned, and his blade nicked Abigail's chin as she went sprawling to the floor.
With her ears ringing, her shock allowed her to be dimly aware of what was happening. Hannibal and Will were at her side grappling – Will had managed to tackle the older man amidst the fray – and she watched in wall-eyed shock once the glittering knife reappeared.
She tried to warn him. She tried to scream, but all that came out was a wheeze when the blade sank into Will's stomach.
Soon after, the room became awash in red, white and blue flickering lights, and Jack Crawford's voice came over a megaphone.
"Give yourself up," Will rasped, clutching onto his bleeding wound with one hand, and Hannibal's collar with the other. "Please…"
With his face a cold mask, the smallest hints of regret crept through as Hannibal staggered to his feet, staunching the flow from his shoulder as he looked to Will and Abigail – his so-called family – in various states of injury on the floor.
"Someday, perhaps, I can still show you Italy," he said to Will. And with that, he turned and fled toward the back door.
Abigail was the first to regain her bearings. Crawling toward Will amidst the carnage, tears blurred her eyes and she tried to aid in pressing on his wound.
Gnashing his teeth, Will shook his head and tried to push her back. "No, no, I've got it."
"You don't," Abigail choked, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Please, Will…let me help you."
As deeply as she wished to be on her own, Abigail knew now more than ever that she wasn't ready to be. Not yet. And if Will died, she would truly have no one.
"No, no—Abigail, don't cry…" Lifting a shaking hand from his wound, Will attempted to cup her cheek as she sniveled. With as much as he'd thought she hated him, blamed him for what had happened, she was crying for him. The realization gutted him all the more.
The front door slammed in, and then a stampede of feet echoed through the halls.
Abigail sobbed with relief when she saw a stretcher. Unable to do anything but gesture to the paramedics, she moved back as two men crouched down and took Will by the shoulders.
To her surprise, he told her, "It's going to be okay, Abigail. You'll see."
Even now, with a gaping wound in his gut, he was thinking of her and not himself. She didn't deserve that.
A female paramedic knelt alongside her and began to inspect her chin, but Abigail barely responded. All she could do was watch Will get carted away, her hands curling into fists as terror wrapped itself around her neck like a noose.
A/N: I wanted to try something different. Mostly because I've never liked how I write Abigail on this page. This pen name (in case it wasn't painfully obvious) exists only to provide smut, so in essence, I have to sacrifice how I truly see Abigail in order to make that happen (in most cases). Sooo, I wanted to try writing her more in tune to how I see her, and then writing some hurt/comfort sex in the next chapter, 'cause I don't think I've ever done that on here. It's mostly just the hot 'n' heavy stuff on my page. And fear not, I've got another one of my "usuals" in the works, but it's always nice to try new things.