CH 4: Plan B
It was early afternoon when a series of brisk, hollow knocks echoed through the cozy cabin.
Abandoning his coffee, Will nearly tripped over his barking dogs as he made a beeline for the door. "Just a minute!" he called. Now twisting the knob, he opened the door to reveal Margot's sophisticated elegance. Will appraised her cream, form-fitting blouse and pencil skirt with amusement, trying his best not to smirk. She wasn't exactly dressed for camping.
"Hi," Margot greeted. "I could sense your distress signal from over a mile away."
Will chuckled, low and husky. His cheeks were pink and he found he couldn't quite look her in the eye. Even after all this time, the level of intimacy they'd shared ashamed him. He hated to think she felt the same, given how she was prepared to spend (or rather, endure) a weekend with him and his ward. Margot had agreed to come up every other weekend since it aligned with the charity drives she'd used to host. She'd stopped participating ages ago, but had kept up the charade so she could still escape Mason.
"Where's the kid?" Margot asked, stooping over to pet Will's dogs.
"Oh, uh…in her room. Abigail! Come on out, we have a guest!"
Margot rose and stared at him reproachfully. "You did tell her I was coming, right? This isn't an ambush?"
"I gave her the gist," Will promised. "The problem with Abigail is I doubt she ever listens to what I say."
Like an actress who awaits the proper cue, Abigail chose that exact moment to enter the scene, her expression dour as she challengingly folded her arms.
Margot gaped at her. Why, this wasn't a child at all! The way Will had described her over the phone, she'd been expecting a young, impressionable teenager, not some glum, jaded adult already dead-set in her ways. It pained her to see this girl, so young and broken, because it felt like gazing into a mirror. Abigail Hobbs was herself not too long ago…scarred, browbeaten, lonesome, and without a single person to trust. Margot was determined to change this girl's path. Nobody deserved to share her fate.
"Hi, I'm Margot Verger," she greeted, extending a gloved hand.
Abigail stared at her warily, knowing that any friend of Will's had to be a touch off in the head. Even so, this woman was the most elegant person she'd ever seen…almost like royalty, she mused.
Ignoring the offered handshake, Abigail simply said, "Hi," and made her way over to the kitchen table.
Will winced. "Abigail, don't be rude… Margot drove a very long way to get here."
Abigail shot him a withering look. He could almost hear her thoughts screaming "You're not my dad!" from across the room. And she was right…he wasn't her father, but he was determined to be whatever she needed. Didn't most girls need and desire a family? Somewhere to belong? It could be a very lonesome feeling, not belonging. He knew that firsthand.
To his relief, Margot seemed unruffled as she joined Abigail at the table. "I like your shirt," she complimented.
Abigail looked down, scoffing in disbelief. "I'm afraid this top doesn't come in silk or cashmere," she snidely said.
"Abby!" Will exclaimed, horrified. What was the matter with her? He'd grown to expect this sort of behavior with himself, but why Margot? Abigail didn't even know her!
He felt a touch on his wrist and looked down, seeing Margot's passive face staring back at him. "Why don't you go catch us dinner, Will? You always brag about being so resourceful, so I expect you to put your money where your mouth is."
There was still plenty of fish leftover thanks to Abigail's episode, but Will didn't bother saying anything on the subject. He knew Margot was trying to get his ward alone.
Plastering a tight, ill-fitting smile on his face, Will bobbed his head and agreed, "Yeah, sure… I'll be back in a little while."
The moment the front door closed behind him, Abigail folded her arms and leaned back in her seat. "So let me guess: Will invited you out here to 'fix' me and stop my fits?" She appraised the other woman scornfully. "What could you know about anything? You're just some rich bitch with a meat packaging plant."
"Cut the shit, Abigail – you're not fooling anyone, least especially me."
Abigail stared back at Margot, shocked. She hadn't expected that sort of language to come from that pretty mouth.
"You mind if I smoke?"
Abigail dumbly shook her head, still too stunned to form a proper response. Margot unearthed a lighter after her pack of cigarettes, now placing a slim stick between her full, painted lips. Margot had always detested smoking, but decided to take it up after Mason's accident. She'd heard that secondhand smoke killed more ruthlessly than firsthand. She'd gladly take one for the team for her dear, dear brother.
As translucent grey ribbons festooned heavily through the air, Abigail shifted her weight to her elbows, observing the other woman carefully. "If you're not here to help, what's in it for you?"
Margot shrugged, blowing a ring of smoke around her head. "I was invited here to help, but Will doesn't know what he's dealing with. In case it wasn't obvious, he's not the most well-versed when it comes to women and their needs."
Abigail snorted.
Eyes flicking up to the skeptical face, Margot tapped her cigarette onto a used paper plate. "I was a lot like you at your age…you use your words as a shield, keeping people out so they can never get too close. You may think you're guarding your heart, but trust me…you're not. I've missed many an opportunity thanks to my insecurities."
Abigail's eyes darkened. "Yeah? Well did you ever have your throat slit by two men you thought you loved? By two men you thought loved you?"
Margot's expression remained cool and unchanging, though there was a flicker of thought behind her eyes. "No," she steadily said, "but I've been raped and abused by my own brother. Does that qualify?"
Abigail's mouth fell open, shocked by the frankness of the other woman's words. She'd recited them as if she'd been relaying the weather. "I…I'm sorry," was all she could think to say.
Margot shrugged, bringing the cigarette back to her lips. "We all have our skeletons, Abigail. It's just that some of us take that pain and use it for good."
"Have you?"
She smiled wryly, almost appearing resigned within the bright overhead lights. "No…I haven't. I guess I tried with the foundling kids, but my heart was never in it…probably 'cause I knew what Mason was doing to…" Trailing off, her brow knit and she furiously drove her cigarette into the paper plate, crushing it into extinction. Apparently this was just serving to remind her of her own faults instead of helping Abigail. How selfish she was. After all, wasn't that why she was trying to save Abigail in the first place? To make herself feel better?
"Margot?"
She sighed, brushing a stray lock of hair from her eyes. "Sorry…sometimes bad memories can really pack a punch."
Abigail nodded, appearing pale and small as she picked at a chipped groove on the table. "Will's the reason I'm alive, you know…both times. Did he tell you that?"
"Oh, yeah?" Margot's eyes remained aloof, indifferent, and lacking judgment. Abigail liked that about her eyes.
Folding her hands in her lap, Abigail curled her toes and shrugged. "Knowing that, you'd think it'd be easy to talk to him…to be grateful and maybe even love him a little, but I don't. I feel nothing inside…just emptiness. He makes me feel awful, 'cause I know I'm a burden to him."
"Have you ever asked him how he feels?"
She shook her head. "He's not good with emotions, remember? I know I'd just make him uncomfortable…after he killed my dad, he was scared he'd turn into him or something. I dunno, it was weird… I can't remember how Hannibal explained it."
Margot's eyes flashed at the mentioning of Dr. Lecter, but other than that, she gave no sign of recognition. Wishing she hadn't extinguished her cigarette, she leaned back and crossed her legs. "If Will thought you were a burden, he would've left you at the hospital."
"No, he wouldn't have. He feels guilty about me…like everything in my life is his unspoken obligation." Abigail's eyes watered. "What I needed at the time was a friend, but he wouldn't give that to me. I found an equal in Hannibal, instead. That's why it was so easy to shut Will out." She cupped her chin in her palm, looking sad and remorseful. "Hannibal didn't treat me like a kid…like someone who was helpless and needed rescuing. I liked that. I thought maybe he'd help me find my independence."
Margot sighed through her nose. "Independence isn't gained through someone else's help, you know. Experience hardens us… If you want my opinion, you were probably already independent when Will saved your life. He just made you feel helpless since he has a weird fetish for nurturing things. Must be why he has so many dogs."
As if in answer to her remark, a cold, wet nose pressed against her knee under the table.
Abigail smiled, but it never quite reached her eyes. "How can I get him to stop, then? To give me room to breathe?"
Margot smirked. "I'll bet Will didn't think this would turn into an intervention against himself, but since you're my top priority, I'll work on him if you want."
"Really?"
"Of course. I know how much of a pain in the ass men can be – it's why I've sworn them off." Among other reasons.
When Margot looked up this time, Abigail's smile was genuine. It filled her with pleasure to know she was the cause of that smile – that she'd given this poor, broken girl a reason to hope again.
When Will finally returned, he found both Margot and Abigail huddled around the kitchen table, whispering and laughing over a game of cards. It was odd seeing Margot Verger so jovial, but what was even stranger was seeing the bright, rejuvenated look in Abigail's eyes as she giggled, pointing gleefully at her winning hand.
In spite of himself, Will felt his chest tighten. Shouldn't he be happy? Wasn't this what he wanted?
No, he realized. He'd wanted Abigail's warmth and affection for himself, not to share it with a total stranger. What had Margot said to her? What did she have that he didn't? Was it the appeal of a fresh start that had lured Abigail in, or something else?
Lingering awkwardly in the doorway, he only responded when Margot waved to him from the table.
"Will! Come over here so we can beat your ass at cards!"
Will wanted to decline, but when he was greeted by Abigail's pleasant, encouraging smile, his legs took on a life of their own and led him over to the vacant seat. Sitting to Margot's left, he now had a front row view of Abigail's newfound ebullience. She laughed every so often, leaning over to whisper something in Margot's ear. When the two fell into peals of laughter, Will felt as if he was purposely being ignored. In all his days, he never thought he'd be jealous of a lesbian. Though should he really be surprised? Margot had wanted to be a mother, and her desire had shone no stronger than in this very moment. If their child had survived, was this a glimpse of what his fatherhood would've been like? Him, sitting on the sidelines while Margot stole the show?
'Stop it,' Will internally seethed. 'You should be grateful… Look at how happy Abigail is!'
And indeed, she did seem happy – almost as if all of her horrible, indelible burdens had been lifted from her fragile shoulders. It bothered him that he couldn't be happy for her joy…that his ego needed her to look at him the way she was currently looking at Margot.
"Will?"
He glanced up, startled.
"Do you wanna deal this time?"
Abigail looked at him steadily, hand poised as if ready to slide him the cards.
Catching Margot's gaze – he could've sworn it was saying "Don't fuck this up" – Will smiled and nodded, extending his hand.
Abigail appeared surprised, but flashed him a quick smile before shyly ducking her head, her hands trembling a bit as she passed him the deck. It hurt Will to see how much she feared him. He was a fool to think she could ever look at him fondly…monsters weren't meant to be loved and adored.
A/N: I've got chapters 5-9 already (mostly) written up, but I'm afraid I'm being a hoarder. I tend to do that with my writing sometimes, but at least you now know I've got a steady amount already finished. Sometimes I can convinced to be less stingy, but...yeah. I'm a hoarder. haha This was my first time writing Margot, and I really enjoyed it. Hopefully you enjoyed reading as much as I did writing!