Abigail spends the next few days going back and forth between elation and frustration. She tells herself that if she's going to be with Hannibal she'll probably have to get used to this sort of thing. Hannibal has a lot of obligations and she certainly doesn't want him to think that she doesn't understand how important his job is to him. She doesn't want him to think that she's the needy type ether. Still, why did Will Graham have to pick the worst possible time to call him away?
It occurs to her then that she's probably going to have to get over her discomfort around Will. It's clear even to her that the two men are important to each other and Hannibal seems to have so few truly important people in his life that Abigail wouldn't dream of taking one away. Her hostility towards Will had never had anything to do with the man himself anyway, a part of her had been aware of that fact all along but she hadn't wanted to acknowledge it. It was easier to take her hostility out on Will then it was to face all of the ugly things that she had grown to associate him with. Remembering her resolution of the day before, she promises herself that she'll make peace with him as soon as she can.
Her days in the hospital are uneventful but she supposes that's the point, the last thing anyone here needs is more excitement. Outside of her therapy sessions and talks with her lawyer she spends most of her time reading (television isn't allowed here) and walking the grounds when everyone else is inside. She can't go very far before hitting the wall that surrounds the hospital and she can't climb over it unnoticed during the day, so this gets old quickly. At night she gets restless and goes into the woods. She had been familiarized with the forest at such a young age that she hadn't even had a chance to develope the fear of it that seems instinctive in most people.
Tonight the moon is full and it reflects back up off of the snow, making the night quite bright. The barren trees silhouetted against the sky look, to her, like the skeletons of monsters and previous days rain has left a thin crust of ice over the top of the snow, amplifying her footsteps. When she comes to a spot where she can clearly see the moon she sits down on a fallen tree, wrapping her arms around herself against the stinging cold. She doesn't know how long she sits there watching the moon and her own breath curling out of her in wisps of steam.
She thinks about how little of the world she's seen in her short life and about how close she came to never having a chance to see any more of it. She tries to remember all the places that Hannibal has casually mentioned having been, wonders what the moon looks like from Paris or Venice or Vienna and feels very small. This leads her to wonder what Hannibal had been like at her age. During one of their conversations, he had once described himself as having been a "temperamental, impulsive, foolishly romantic boy." Somehow she can't imagine him having ever been any different than he is now, having ever not been as in control as he always seems to be, but the thought that he may not have been is strangely comforting. If that's the sort of thing you can learn over time, then maybe she can be like that someday, maybe he can show her how.
She sits there for as long as she can, until she can barely feel her extremities, and then begrudgingly gets up and starts her walk back to the hospital. It occurs to her that she doesn't even know what time it is but she still doesn't bother to hurry. It's one of those nights when her room feels stifling and she desperately wants to be pretty much anywhere else but since Hannibal isn't home she has nowhere to run to. She briefly contemplates going into the city, there's bound to be something open, but decides that she can't risk being seen. It suddenly hits her how pathetic it is that she can't think of anywhere to go except the house of the guy she's dating (she still can't bring herself to call him her "boyfriend") and for a shameful moment she really misses being part of a family.
By the time she gets back to her room she feels half frozen. She changes into her nightgown, brushes her teeth and curls up in the fetal position under her quilt. When she feels a dull ache blossom in her chest, she convinces herself that it's of the same origin as the dull ache that fills her limbs as they begin to thaw. Luckily the cold seems to have sapped more of her energy then she had thought so sleep doesn't take long to find her. She dreams about a time when she was little (and blissfully naive) and her dad took her fishing. When she awakes she only vaguely remembers her dream but she does remember that during it she felt happy in spite of herself.
The days pass uniformly, save sunday when Freddy Lounds comes to visit her. They talk more about the book but not for very long. Mrs. Lounds offers to come back on a day when Abigail is feeling more "up to it" and Abigail takes her up on her offer. Hannibal has been tactfully not mentioning the book ever since their relationship began but Abigail knows he hasn't forgotten about it, she doesn't miss his subtle cringe (a sort of muted echo of Will's not-so-subtle cringe) every time Freddy Lounds is mentioned. She realizes that he's not bringing it up because he doesn't want to ruin how good things have been going between them lately and she's so touched by that that now she can't talk about the book without her guts twisting into a guilty knot. She briefly wonders if maybe the man she loves is some sort of master of passive aggressive manipulation but then dismisses the notion as paranoid.
On the day Hannibal returns Abigail is sitting in the common room pretending to be absorbed in a game of solitaire. In reality she's watching the door out of the corner of her eye and her thoughts are racing. Had he said when specifically he'd be getting back? Did he mean he'd be returning on Monday or did he actually mean Sunday night? If it was the former he might not show up until later in the evening (it was currently 2:27 p.m.) but if it was the later then he really had no excuse for not having shown up yet.
She hears the door open and her heart leaps into her throat, then drops slightly when she sees that while it is Hannibal, he has Will Graham with him. She remembers that she'd planned to make her peace with Will, but now is not the time. Will comes over to where she's sitting and she pretends not to notice him until he places a hand on her shoulder. She looks up at Will before looking over his shoulder to lock eyes with Hannibal for what she hopes isn't a noticeably long time. Hannibal nods his acknowledgment and a smile briefly flickers across his placid features.
"Hey," Will greets her in the tone he always uses when he's trying to act like speaking to her doesn't make him uncomfortable, "we just got back from a case in Williamsburg and...and you were on the way, so we thought we'd stop and see how you were holding up."
"Oh, ok." She looks in the general direction of his face, but not directly at his eyes. "Do you wanna' sit down?"
"Actually," both their heads turn toward Hannibal, "I think Will would appreciate it, and I would, if we could go somewhere more private."
Abigail felt her stomach sink, if Hannibal had been alone the request wouldn't have bothered her, but Will only ever asked for privacy when he wanted to talk to her about the sorts of things that usually led to really wasn't up for an argument right now.
"I'd be more comfortable here, if it's all the same to you." Now she does look into his eyes and feels a little triumphant thrill when he abruptly looks away.
"Abigail-" There's slight agitation in Will voice before Hannibal cuts him off.
"Or course we want to to be comfortable." He nods in concession towards Abigail before shooting will a warning glance.
"Of course!" Will's tone borders on sarcastic and his smile is forced as he pulls out the chair across from her and sits down. Hannibal remains standing, but moves to lean against the wall behind Abigail. They sit in awkward silence for fifteen grueling seconds before Abigail, in her desperation, blurts out the first thing that comes to mind.
"Did you catch the..." She stops herself before she says 'bad guy' and starts over. "How did the case go?"
"It's kind of hard to tell at this point." Will's trying not to sound irritated, he's leaning on the table with his hands in front of him, looking at his own fingers.
"What's that mean?"
"Will has offered up all the incite he can for the time being," Abigail starts a little when Hannibal speaks and has to lean back in her chair to look at him, "most of what remains is lab work."
"And you don't do that part?" She looks back at Will.
"Not really, no." Will glances up at her, then decides he prefers the cards in front of her. "But if they find me new evidence I might be able to tell them more about what we're looking for."
"Why did Dr. Lecter need to be there," she's glad that she didn't slip and call him Hannibal, "if you're the one...profiling?"
"He's a psychiatric consultant." Will's started to anxiously pick at his nails now.
"What's that mean?"
"Sometimes," Hannibal interjects when Will seems to have trouble answering, "it's helpful for Will to have someone to bounce ideas off of."
"Oh." The conversation just sort of locks up then, Abigail feels a faint stirring of panic when she realizes that she can't think of anything to say to keep it moving. She hears Hannibal take a breath as if he's about to speak, but Will beats him to it.
"Did you have any visitors over the weekend?" He tries to make it sound like a casual inquiry but Abigail can see the suppressed disgust in his eyes. She decides there's no point in drawing it out.
"You mean like Freddy Lounds?" She sees Will wince, imagines that she can feel Hannibal wince.
"Yeah," one of his hands, still in front of him on the table, curls into a fist, "exactly like Freddy Lounds."
"That's none of your business." She hisses and is proud of how calm she sounds until she jumps at the feel of Hannibal's hand on her shoulder.
"Will is just concerned that you may be being taken advantage of."
"If he is I think he can say that himself." It comes out angrier than she'd wanted it to and she instantly feels bad for snapping at him, he's just trying to keep the peace after all. Then something occurred to her and suddenly all her attention is back on will.
"Wait, how do you even know she was here?"
"That's none of your business." Will finally takes his eyes off of the table in order to glare at her.
"Did doctor Bloom tell you?" Her voice cracks and her eyes begin to sting at the thought of the betrayal.
"Abigail." Hannibal finally comes around to where she can see him. "I have never known Alana to break confidentiality."
"That's not really a 'no', is it?" She can't bring herself to look at Hannibal, so she glares at Will instead. "You know what? I'm suddenly really tired. I think you should leave."
For a moment Will looks as though he might object but then he notices that the commotion at their table has caught the attention of a nearby nurse who's now watching them warily. He gets up and stomps out of the room. Hannibal sighs and puts his hand back on her shoulder, squeezing slightly until she looks up at him. When their eyes meet her expression softens and she reaches up to put her hand on top of his. He waits a few seconds before withdrawing his hand to walk away and, as he does, a neatly folded piece of paper falls into her lap.
Abigail goes immediately to her room and falls back on the bed, closes her eyes and tries to steady her breathing. The piece of paper is in the pocket of her jeans but she can't read it now, she needs to calm down first. If she hadn't been so angry, she might have giggled over the fact that Doctor Hannibal Lecter had just passed her a note as though they were highschool sweethearts in study hall, but for the time being all she can do is fume over how Will Graham had ruined a reunion that she'd been looking forward to for four days. She lays there a few minutes with her eyes closed taking slow deep breaths until she feels her heart rate slow down. When she unfolds the paper she finds only simple instructions written in not-quite-perfect handwriting (a sign that he must have been in a rush when he wrote the note) instructing her to got to a specific intersection that was about a five minute walk from the hospital and that he would be waiting there for her.
It's an unseasonably warm night as Abigail makes her way to the designated meeting place. The abrupt thaw has produced a small flood, the ground is sodden, the gutters along the side of the road have turned into small streams. The dense fog adds to the secretive thrill Abigail feels and she focuses on that feeling in a not entirely successful effort to push all thoughts of what happened earlier out of her mind. Tonight her and Hannibal finally going to take their relationship to the next level, she tells herself that she will not let anything ruin this for her. Her heart flutters when she sees Hannibals car parked alongside the road near the intersection.
Once they've greeted each other, they're silent throughout the rest of the drive. Abigail doesn't mind this, especially since Hannibal keeps reaching over and touching her whenever the task of driving permits. He puts his hand on top of hers, a few times he pretends to miss and touches her knee instead. By the time they get to his house she's nervous but in a good way and Will Graham and all the worlds other little irritants have ceased to exist. Tonight it's just the two of them.
He barely has a chance to remove his coat before she's on him, her arms around his neck and her mouth devouring his. He makes his appreciation of her boldness evident, he wraps one arm around her waist and brings his other hand up to cradle the back of her head. When they part they are both breathless, he pulls her flush against him and buries his face in her hair. He inhales deeply before placing a kiss to the top of her head.
"Sweet girl." Hannibal purrs. "My sweet, sweet girl." For a moment she's content to just stay like that, listening to him breath, smelling his cologne, feeling the heat of his body, but then she remembers what tonight is about and that hunger flares up in her again. She puts her hands on his chest and gently pushes him just far enough away so that she can look up into his eyes. One of her hands slides up to the back of his neck. He leans in and kisses her forehead but then draws back again.
"I believe, Mrs. Hobbs, that I promised you dinner."
Abigail is nearly frustrated at his seeming stalling, but then he smiles and she can't be. Instead she reminds herself that there's no need to rush, nods, and follows him into the kitchen. Anyway, it's not as though she doesn't like watching him cook.
He pours her a glass of red wine and then sets about preparing what he says is a "simple dish" but when Abigail asks exactly what it is he gives an explanation that sounds very complicated. She decides that she doesn't need to understand what it is as long as it tastes good (which Hannibals cooking always does.) In spite of herself, as she sits and watches him work, her earlier argument with Will replayed in her mind. She downs half her glass in one swallow and tries to forget about it, but her traitorous brain won't stop reminding her of how Hannibal had taken Wills side. Feeling unwelcome agitation start to prickle at the back of her mind, she downs the other half of her glass and then pours herself another from the bottle which Hannibal has helpfully left on the counter beside her.
Hannibal looks up from what he's doing and arches an eyebrow.
"You seem a little tense."
"It's nothing." Abigail forces a smile.
"Good," he looks away from her but his tone suggests that he's not at all convinced. "I was concerned that you may dwelling on that..unpleasantness that happened earlier."
He just goes quiet after that and the silence that he leaves quickly turns into an unbearable vacuum that Abigail can resist the urge to fill.
"Actually," She tries to keep her tone light as though the topic of conversation left her only mildly irritated. "It did kind of bother me."
"What specifically are you referring to as it?" He still doesn't look up, the only sign that he's grown wary is a barely perceptible tensing of his shoulders.
"I don't know," she does know but she's far from eager to launch into this. "The whole thing, the way you're not even trying to understand my side of it...the way you took Will's side." Hannibal heaves a barely audible sigh and his mouth sets in the way it always does when he's irritated and trying not to show it.
"First of all," his tone is calculatedly calm and measured. "I do understand."
"You do?" what she wanted to say was 'you have a funny way of showing it' but she decides to take a slightly less combative route.
"Of course," he looks up but his hands keep working. "Since this began you've been the constant topic of a conversation in which you've been essentially denied the right to take part. People have speculating about you, speaking for you and speaking against you but apart from Mrs. Lounds none of them have bothered to speak to you. It's not difficult to understand why you'd want to be allowed to add your own voice to the conversation, to represent yourself. In fact I'd dare say that you're even entitled to do so."
"Then why don't you want me to write the book?" He's looking a little too intensely at the the chopped vegetables in front of him as though trying to chose his words carefully. Abigail continues before he has a chance to speak. "You know I wouldn't put anything in there that would hurt you, right?"
"I've never suspected that you would." He pauses here and looks apprehensive, as though he knows that what he's about to say is going to upset her. "I will admit that my concerns are more for Mr. Graham then for myself."
"Yeah," Abigail feels her throat tighten. "That kinda' seems to be the case most of the time."
Defensive rage flashes in Hannibals eyes for a fraction of a second but his expression remains the same.
"Abigail," he takes a deep breath before he continues. "Will is my patient and my colleague and my friend. I would be remiss not to have his best interest at heart."
"Is that how is gonna' be then?" She feels strangely hot and light headed (but she's only had one glass of wine hasn't she?) and seems unable to stop the words from coming out. "Are you always going to side with him against me?"
"My darling," he sounds more exasperated now then angry. "I am not against you and for that matter neither is Will."
At that Abigail starts to laugh, she's not even entirely sure why, and keeps laughing until it dissolves into choked sobs. She feels a strange tilting sensation, like she's on a boat on a windy day but the room doesn't seem to be moving.
"You can't tell me you honestly believe that bullshit about him not wanting me to get taken advantage of." He openly glares at her, he doesn't like it when she uses 'foul language', but now she can't stop herself. "The only reason Will cares about me at all is because he feels guilty and you know what? I don't see why I should be responsible for making him feel better!"
"Abigail," there's a tightly coiled warning in his tone as he walks around the counter to stand in front of her and takes her wine glass out of her hand. When he speaks his tone implies that what he's saying is more of a command then a suggestion. "I think you need to calm down."
"Or what?" In some distant part of her mind she realizes that this is the first time she's ever snapped at him and feels a little guilty about it. Now she thinks that the room is tilting...or is she tilting? Her mouth seems to be moving on it's own, without any help from her brain. "You'll take me back to the hospital? That's really convenient for you isn't it? Whenever you get sick of me you can just send me back to the looney bin!"
"You are acting like a child." Hannibals voice is a venomous hiss and his eyes are somehow darker and brighter at the same time, this is the angriest she's ever seen him.
"That's-" She was going to say 'that's how you see me isn't it?' but she doesn't get the chance. She slides off of the counter and as her feet hit the floor her knees buckle and for a few seconds everything goes black. When she regains her vision she's kneeling on the floor and Hannibal is kneeling in front of her, looking into her face with urgent concern.
"Look at me!" He had been talking before, but she hadn't been able to make out what he was saying. He continues in a gentler tone, edged with guilt. "Please look at me Abigail."
When she tilts her head up to look into his eyes her whole body seems to want to follow it, his grip on her shoulders is the only thing that keeps her from rocking back and hitting her head on the counter behind her.
"Have you eaten today Abigail?" His thumb slides down to press against the pulse point on her throat, just above her scar.
"I...I don't know." Her mind is suddenly sluggish and cloudy and she feels a strange, involuntary relaxation rippling its way through her limbs. When she talks it comes out slurred. "What kind of wine is that?" Hannibals hand slides up from her throat to the side of her face and she leans into it, smiling involuntarily.
"How have you been sleeping?"
"Not really been much." As soon as she says it it occurs to her how little sense it makes and she laughs at herself.
"I think you should lie down." He grabs her arm and puts it around his neck and then picks her up bridal style. The sudden change in altitude makes her head swim and she laughs again.
"You're really strong." She murmurs against his neck.
He carries her to his room and lays her down on his bed on top of the comforter. The edges of her vision are starting to blur. When he moves to stand back up she tightens her grip around his neck, keeping him bent over her, and gives him a soft, wet kiss on the mouth.
"Sweet girl," he smiles and strokes her hair before gently prying her arms off of him. "You need to rest, what you're feeling are most likely the effects of exhaustion."
"Ok." She lays back on the pillow but then reaches over and grabs his hand. "Could you stay with me?"
"Of course." He removes his hand from her grip and walks around the bed to lay beside her. He lays one arm across her waist and kisses her on the cheek. In the few seconds it takes Abigail to fade into unconsciousness she thinks how odd it is that she could become so exhausted without even noticing it, less than an hour ago she hadn't even felt tired. She mentally shrugs off the thought and nestles closer to Hannibal and then everything just ...stops.
Hannibal stays there holding her until he hears her breathing even out. Confident that it won't wake her, he reaches over and turns on the lamp beside the bed. For a moment he looks at her, takes in her placid expression and lidded eyes, her hair spread out around her, and thinks that she's beautiful like this...his little Ophelia. Possessiveness and lust begin to stir inside him but he forces himself to ignore them, reminds himself that after tonight he'll be allowed to indulge all he likes but now there is still work to do. He's too close to let his own baser urges spoil everything. He takes a few deep breaths to slow his heart rate and then, detached and mechanical, begins to remove her clothing.