Abigail's fingers were shaking. "Is this true?"
"Abigail, what are you doing?" Will asked. He could hear his own blood rushing. His face felt numb.
"Is this true?" she repeated, more loudly. She was glaring at Will. She had never looked more like a child to him than she did in that moment. Will could feel her horror, her disappointment.
He holstered his gun, and took a step towards her. She took a step back. He froze, and he felt a painful ache grip his stomach at her obvious fear of him.
"You knew about this. It's with your things- not his."
"Abigail-"
"You said you would protect me. But you know about him-"
"He isn't a threat to you!" Will realised he had shouted the words. He needed Abigail to believe them. "He loves you."
"He's a monster!" Abigail shouted back.
"Abigail, no. You know him-"
"Why are you protecting him? It's your job to stop people like him!"
It was true, but nobody had said it to Will. Hearing the words spoken, spat at him, made his throat clench. Shame and guilt washed over him.
"Why, Will?"
"I love him," Will replied.
Abigail let out a cruel, humourless laugh. "Really? That's not an excuse, Will!"
Will felt his body grow tense. He looked at Abigail, really looked at her, allowed himself inside her head, the place he had been avoiding. "You knew about your father, didn't you?"
There were tears flowing freely down her pale cheeks. The hands holding the journal flexed. "Fuck you, Will. This isn't like that. You chose him. You fucking chose him."
"I chose you, too."
She broke at that, dropping the journal to the floor and dropping to her knees, wrapping her arms around herself and sobbing. Will crossed to her, kneeling down and wrapping his arms around her. She stiffened but didn't push him away, and he buried his face in her hair as she sobbed against him.
"I'm sorry," Will murmured, smoothing her back.
This was horrible. He could understand Abigail's pain- hell, he didn't have to slip into her mind to understand it. It made sense. She had escaped one killer, a killer she had trusted not to betray her, and ran straight into the arms of another.
Two others. Will swallowed painfully. He was a killer too.
She drew back slightly. Her face was bright with tears. She sniffed.
"I thought there was something wrong this morning," she said. "I knew he was lying. He's a good liar, isn't he?"
"The best," Will agreed. "Is that why you did this?"
She looked at the papers she had scattered. "I didn't know what I was looking for."
Will saw a lot of himself in Abigail just then.
"I'll answer anything you want to ask," he offered.
"Did Hannibal kill Freddie Lounds?"
Of course that was the first question. Will wasn't sure how to answer. He took a deep breath.
They heard the front door open and close, and Hannibal's shoes clicking against the flooring downstairs. Will felt Abigail tense in his arms, and he instinctively pulled her closer.
"Will," she mumbled. It was a plea. She was begging him to protect her.
They heard Hannibal's footsteps coming up the stairs. He was calling out their names in a light, normal tone. He was still maintaining the mask of normality which had slipped away from their family completely.
He appeared in the doorway, and Will watched the act fade from his face as he took in the scattered papers, the mess, and Will holding a crying Abigail in the middle of the floor. He frowned as he saw the journal lying open beside them.
"Ah," he said, without emotion.
"Hannibal, Abigail found-" Will began.
Abigail suddenly scrambled out of his arms to her feet and approached Hannibal, radiating a cold fury. Will was quick to his feet after her, unspeakably aware that he had to get in between them somehow. He tried to wrap an arm around her, shield her, but she shrugged him off.
"Did you kill Freddie?" she asked him.
Hannibal met Will's eyes for a second over her head then looked back at her. "Yes," he said.
Abigail's hand connecting with the side of Hannibal's face seemed startingly loud. Will felt a bolt of terror and pulled her back, but Hannibal didn't move, merely blinked. His skin was growing pink. He didn't look at her as she swept past him.
They heard her bedroom door slam shut.
Will didn't know what to do. He wanted to reach out for Hannibal but it didn't seem right. The older man was still standing very still, his face oddly blank.
"Hannibal," Will said quietly.
Hannibal met his eyes. Will was surprised to see that Hannibal's eyes were damp.
"Promise me you won't hurt her," Will said. He wished desperately that he didn't need to make that request.
Hannibal swallowed visibly. He reached up to touch his cheek where she had hit him. "Of course not," he said eventually. "You- both of you- are my family."
Will exhaled, relief washing over him. "We're a disappointment to her."
Hannibal did not reply.
"I'm going to speak to her," Will said.
"I will come."
The two of them made their way to her room. Will wanted to hold Hannibal's hand, craved the comfort of his closeness, but he decided not to.
When he knocked on Abigail's door, there was no reply. They could hear her sobbing inside. Hannibal pushed the door open gently.
She was on the bed, hugging her knees. She eyed Hannibal warily as he approached but did not comment as he sat down on the edge of the bed. Will stood in the doorway, arms folded, terrified he was watching his family fall apart.
"You're the Chesapeake Ripper," Abigail said, staring at Hannibal.
"Yes."
She sniffed, reaching up to rub her face. "I don't understand. Will's job is to find you, to stop you. And now the pair of you are living together and for some reason I'm here too." Her voice was hoarse, rising in pitch as she grew more agitated.
Hannibal folded his hands in his lap. "I love you. I love Will. That has nothing to do with my killing."
Will thought it had everything to do with it, but didn't speak.
"I have been alone a long time, Abigail. In you two, I have found love- and acceptance."
Abigail took a deep breath. "Why did you kill Freddie?"
"There is a woman named Bedelia Du Maurier who suspects that I am not what I seem. She approached Will, concerned for the welfare of you both, and I am afraid that his reaction only furthered her suspicions. Now she is worried about you."
"Should she be?" Abigail asked softly.
Hannibal reached out and touched her cheek, gentle fingers ghosting over her skin. "No. I promise."
She nodded.
"Bedelia approached Freddie Lounds, and she broke into our home. Unfortunately, there were not many options open at that moment."
Abigail blinked. Will knew she wanted to accept this; she wanted to accept Hannibal.
"I know she was a friend of yours, Abigail. I disliked her, but I would not have harmed her otherwise."
Abigail moved forward and tentatively reached for Hannibal. He pulled her close, and closed his eyes. Will could see the relief on his face. The love he felt for Abigail was obvious.
"I think I already knew," Abigail said against his chest. "The food... the taste. It was familiar."
Hannibal stroked her hair. "I'm sorry, child."
Will and Hannibal left her. She looked exhausted. As they walked back to the main bedroom, Hannibal reached across and took hold of Will's hand.
Will picked up the journal. "We should burn it."
"Do you trust me?" Hannibal asked. His expression was naked, vulnerable.
Will nodded. "With my life."
Hannibal cupped his face and kissed him; his lips tasted salty and sad. Will lost himself in the kiss, reaching up to wrap his arms around Hannibal's neck.
They walked to the garden together.
"Alana was not at home," Hannibal said. "We will simply have to hope that she does not return."
"Bedelia will go there. We need to go after we have destroyed this book."
Outside, it was cold. The sky was a streaky orange. The wind made Will's eyes water as Hannibal lit a match and passed it to him. He touched it to the journal. It took a second for the paper to ignite, then it was wreathed in flame.
They watched it burn.
"I once said this could only end in fire," Will said.
"Fire cleanses. Fire symbolises rebirth."
Will looked up at him. "I have been reborn, haven't I?"
"I love you," Hannibal said. "I am proud of you."
Will looked back at the flames.