CH 1: Reunited

The drive to Abigail's hospital was much longer than Will remembered. He found himself lost after three unexpected wrong turns, and, after a brief talk with a gas station manager, followed the new directions and ended up arriving much later than originally planned. In his mind, this proposition took place over a brightly lit meeting in the garden (perhaps even over a game of chess, if Abigail felt up to it). Now, however, it was clearly going to be a one-on-one confrontation with the looming dusk. It didn't help settle the acid in his stomach to envision the questions he needed to ask...or rather, the invitation he needed to extend. Worse yet, the sky had turned purple with clouds. Perhaps a storm was in the horizon? It made the whole scenario feel quite ominous.

After checking in at the front desk, Will followed the designated nurse up the staircase, all too aware of the heavy sound his footfalls made as they single-filed toward Abigail's room. Where her presence used to give him a sense of fledgling hope, he now only felt dread and foreboding agony.

The moment Will saw his ward, the look on her face told him the sentiment was shared. Abigail went white as a sheet, her whole body beginning to make the nervous motions he knew so well. It hurt his heart to know he was the cause. She pulled her hair between thumb and forefinger, tugged it straight, tossed it behind her shoulder. Smoothed the bedspread twice before deciding not to sit down. Knotted her fingers together and made her way to the window. She was thin and waifish…the natural beauty that had once marked her features was now dulled and wilted. She seemed so tired…

"Hi," Will said, attempting to break the silence.

Abigail lifted her eyes for a moment, then quickly darted them back down toward her hands. It would seem the separation had made strangers of them once again.

Will made a sound that was half a laugh, half a scoff. "After all we've been through, are you really going to shut me out?" His jaded gaze sought hers, but again Abigail refused him the decency of eye contact. Her dismissal stung more than a rankling sore.

"I think it's high time we talked about...about what we've... about what happened," he tried again. "About your future." Removing his glasses, he pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. "I can't believe you want to be alone in this hospital... That you don't want a friend. Tell me I'm right." He looked up at her sadly. "Tell me you want me in your life. I want to be here for you, Abigail, but only if you'll let me."

There. At last, he'd said the words that had yearned to escape the prison of his mind, the freeing longevity of it all unclasping the bonds that had long since tethered his soul. It had been painful being away from her. And though Will had never quite understood his feelings for Abigail, he wanted to believe that they were pure and wholesome – that his needing her was completely normal. If he didn't have Abigail, there wouldn't be a shred of light left within his bottomless pit of a soul, and that frightened him. He'd seen complete darkness once before – a brief, frightening kiss between death and fate – and he never wanted to feel that way again. How could he explain how that felt without sounding completely ridiculous? How do you tell a girl who feels she barely knows you that you have an almost obsessive need to protect her? That you feel a sense of burdensome responsibility toward her?

He watched Abigail flit around the room, a frightened bird trying to find its way to the open window. Will deflated. He disliked this turn Abigail's psyche had taken, where she joined him in an elaborate dance of avoidance and muted conflict.

He didn't particularly enjoy her being afraid of him. The last time she'd looked at him with those wide, fearful eyes was when a knife had been perched beneath her throat. The thought made him quiver.

"Am I really that horrible?" Will asked, feeling the words lodge painfully in his throat. "Do you hate me that much?"

Abigail finally stopped pacing, her bright, cauliflower blue eyes peering at him over her shoulder. "I don't want to go," she whispered. Though the comment had been harmless enough, there was a catch in her voice – an imperceptible quivering that lanced through Will like a harpoon.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he promised. "Is that what this is about? Do you…do you think I'll hurt you like…like…?"

"Like Hannibal did?" she viciously cut in. Discreetly, Abigail touched the mangled scarring on her throat, keeping her eyes directed straight ahead.

Will clenched his fists. The high-pitched whine that signaled the most immobilizing of his headaches began, making his vision flash painfully in his skull. Recently they'd been coming three times a day, always lingering on the horizon before incapacitating him. Tiny airstrikes in his head. He huffed a noisy breath, paced a small path from her dresser to the door and back again, hands shoved into his back pockets. Stopped. Turned slightly toward her, shoulders still hunched. When he realized that Abigail was only showing him her back, Will crossed to the bed and swallowed.

"Can I…can I sit down for a minute?" He didn't wait for an answer, his body sinking down onto the mattress with a long, drawn-out sigh. He worried a loose cuticle on his right index finger, pulling it just to the point of pain. The searing in his head subsided to a dull throb, off to the side enough that he could think clearly again.

"I...I thought that you needed someone," he softly said. "Someone you could rely on. Someone who's been through what you have, and I…I thought that person would be me. I didn't expect you to ignore my letters." Will cringed slightly, teeth clamped together. "Not that I'm the most suitable person to talk to, of course…I've been told I have the charm of a cactus. But it's just that I thought we had some sort of odd, untouchable bond…that we understood one another." He glanced at her again. "Was I wrong?"

"I don't want to go," Abigail said again, a firmness edging her tone. Her words startled him, but gave him a tiny shred of hope – a scant scrap of faith that she might actually wish to share his company. Unfortunately for Will, Abigail's temper seemed to have designs of its own.

"Do you think that by taking me away, I'll somehow forget everything that's happened?" She scoffed, her eyes flashing indignantly. "Talking to you or going on some retreat isn't going to change that, Will. I'll always be stained…I'll always be a monster."

Will flinched. "What happened wasn't your fault, Abigail. Hannibal-"

"What happened was my fault! I killed Alana Bloom!"

Silence ensconced the pair and Will faltered, his face suddenly appearing gaunt and pale. "You didn't mean it," he feebly said, needing to believe it. "Hannibal told you to, remember?"

"Right…'I didn't know what else to do,'" she crisply recited. "Well now that I think about it, there was plenty I could've done, but I chose not to help her! I'm a coward!"

Deep-down, Will could hear Alana's dulcet tones in his subconscious, berating him for pursuing such an "unhealthy" bond. He ducked his head. As strongly as logic was screaming at him to see reason, Abigail's guilt somehow endeared her to him all the more. He needed to protect her – he would protect her, and he'd be damned if he allowed her to carry this pain like a martyr.

"I want to help you," he softly said, head bowed and eyes downcast. "Will you at least let me do that?"

Abigail snorted. "The last time you 'helped me,' I ended up being handed over for slaughter. I'm tired of being the pawn in someone else's game, Will – did it ever occur to you that I'm tired of playing? That I just want to forfeit and turn in my pieces?"

'No more than I do,' Will thought, but crushed it like an unpleasant insect. Instead, he shook his head. "No… You're only saying that because you're afraid. You were afraid with Alana too, and you acted on that fear. But there's nothing to be afraid of now. We're going to...we're going to handle this. I'm going to protect you."

"How?" Abigail wearily asked. "You're a man of the law… Or something like that. I don't get why you'd want to help me… I didn't think it was in your job description to aid and abet the 'bad guys.'"

Will's features darkened. "I don't work with the FBI anymore."

"Even so…you shouldn't want to help me. I'm a lost cause."

"Which is even more of a reason to help," he fired back. She was directly in front of him now, face downturned and curtained by her long, dark hair. Compulsively, Will reached out and took her limp hand in his, feeling the dampness of her palm against his skin. Her fingers seemed to instinctively grasp at him, gripping so tightly that he felt his bones grinding together. "I want to help you," he tried again. "I don't want to file you away like some bad memory, Abigail… I've already lost you once. It'd be far more painful to lose you again, knowing that you're actually within arm's reach." He sighed. "I've already spoken with the nurses, and they're granting me permission to take you away for a few months. All I'm asking for is your consent."

Abigail eyed him skeptically.

"I think it's high time you made your own decisions," he softly said. "Between your father, Hannibal and myself, I'm sure you're sick of being told what to do. You're…you're twenty years old now, according to your records, and that's more than old enough to be calling the shots."

"Really?" There was a softening around her mouth, her eyes dancing with what looked like an internal struggle. At this point in her life, she was far too afraid to hope – all of her dreams had long since been dashed.

Will nodded, attempting reassurance. "If you pack your things, we can leave tonight. I've rented us a cabin up in Lakemont."

"And your dogs?"

He grinned. "They're in the car."

Again her mouth twitched, though this time it was in the beginnings of a smile. "You shouldn't leave them alone like that for long…or at least, not in this heat. I'll be out in just a minute."

Will knew that that was as close to a "yes" as he was going to get, so deciding not to push his luck, he hid his elation (or tried to) and agreed, "Great, I'll be downstairs. Just come down when you're ready."

Abigail nodded, but was no longer smiling. Her face was a mask of darkness and bafflement and hope, all of which caused a flurry of emotions to stir within Will's breast. Despite her aloof attitude, he cared for her deeply. If he failed her in any way, he knew he would never forgive himself.

The drive was not at all what Will had expected. Given Abigail's concern for his dogs, he'd had a fleeting hope that somehow, upon seeing them with their big brown eyes and pleasant disposition, she'd drop her despairing attitude and start looking at him with warmth. This, unfortunately, was not to be. When Abigail had climbed into the car, she'd ignored his dogs, even going so far as to snub the ever-friendly Winston, who'd curiously begun nosing her from his spot in the backseat. The creature hadn't received so much as a pat on the head.

Crestfallen, Will had started the car and begun their journey.

The moments had been slow, torturous, and marked by Will's yearning for Abigail to open up and speak candidly. She never did. In fact, she didn't so much as glance in his direction. In an attempt at easing the tension, Will had turned on the radio, but had received a shock when Abigail abruptly snapped it back off. Didn't she find her thoughts as abhorrent and lonely as he did his? He much preferred the vapid, mundane dronings of rock stars to the prison of his mind.

"Abigail, I…"

She suddenly turned the radio back on, a deceptively placid look on her face. Will's hands tensed around the wheel. Though socially inept, he could certainly take a hint. He wasn't sure why Abigail had agreed to come along in the first place, but it was clear that she didn't wish to bond or give him what he wanted. Despite her passive aggressive behavior, he could sense a strong yearning for control. Was that what this was all about? Dismissing his desires in favor of taking the reins herself?

He snorted. It was going to take a lot more than choosing a radio station to regain her freedom. Even so, he let her have her way without a fight. He didn't wish to quarrel.

After hours more of silence, Will exhaled in relief when he eased the car up a long, winding path toward their temporary residence. Despite Abigail's indifference, he noticed her body angle toward the window, her bright, all-encompassing eyes taking everything in with curiosity. The dogs noticed the change in terrain as well and they, too, all nosed the glass with interest.

"Pretty, isn't it?" Will asked. His voice sounded tired and fragile, much like cracked glass.

Abigail said nothing. As much as he wanted to see her appreciation – a softening of her puckered brow or the lightening of her dark, shadowed eyes – she wouldn't even dignify him with the sight of her profile. He was beginning to think that she hated him.

The moment Will stopped the car, Abigail was out like a shot. Grabbing her belongings, she pushed far ahead of him and ignored the brigade of ecstatic, scampering dogs at her feet. The brush-off was starting to get old. Hadn't they bonded (at least a little bit) at the hospital? Hadn't they reached some sort of temporary understanding?

Hurt, Will unlocked the cabin and admitted his motley crew. Abigail didn't seem impressed. Sliding her bag off her shoulder, she approached the first bedroom and peered inside, inspecting it carefully.

"Oh, uh…that's the master suite," Will shyly said. "Since I have so many dogs, I figured they could stay in-"

Abigail closed the door behind her, and none too gently.

"…there."

Sighing, Will approached the oak slab and rapped his knuckles against the surface. "You hungry?"

"No thanks."

"Ok, well…did you want me to help you unpack?"

Abigail opened the door again, her face appearing pinched and tired. "I'm 'plenty old enough' to do it myself, remember?" Again she shut the door, and despite the fact it hadn't been slammed, the dismissal made it seem louder than a gunshot.

The low, pulsating hum of a headache began to form behind Will's eye. Stung by her refusal, he turned and headed toward his (much smaller) room to unpack.

A/N: I know that Abigail isn't normally cold, bratty and aloof (even when she was upset with Will, she was never this bad), but due to everything she's been through, I figured she'd be a little traumatized and want to distance herself for the sake of protecting her heart. In the next chapter, things will be more from Abigail's POV, so I'm hoping to explain her motivations then. Hope you enjoyed! Reviews/feedback are always much appreciated.