I made a Spotify playlist for this fic! Here's the link: user/7rz10eg2apzoeh53ykxiwmudr/playlist/6fsbi0slfvTWy3EjmjXtEt?si=VcZWfpOGSdSnqcmI-6DFaw

"You see, Azmaveth?" said Mortifico, gazing over at his newly-returned son. "This is what happens when we breed with mortals."

Hannibal had returned when his father called for him in the middle of watching Will Graham, and now they looked down at a young girl, a five-year old, crying on the streets—all alone, dirty, and ragged.

"She has Death's blood in her, but she isn't aware. The air she possesses persuaded her parents to abandon her."

"Like we have the air of power?"

Mortifico nodded, black wings stretching behind him. "Watch over her for a while. Despite being a half-breed we must protect our kind."

Azmaveth nodded, wings ruffling. "How long do I stay with her?"

"However long you like," said Mortifico. "Will Graham still has time for you."

Azmaveth bowed his head, stepping up to the edge of the clouds. "Goodbye, father."

His father returned the gesture, sending him off with a wave.

"Go, Hannibal," he said softly. "Watch over her."

Hannibal opened his eyes, the chill of the clouds faint in his senses. Memory tingled in the back of his head, and he stood up from his office, knowing exactly where to go.

Images of when he was younger played through his head as he picked up his coat. The young girl, he an adult with a younger mortal form, emotions and turmoil and voidness.

"Why are you here?" echoed his younger voice as he entered his car and put the key in the ignition.

"This place feels like how I feel. Cold and empty…" A flash of hopeful blue. "Can you join me?"

Hannibal drove through the pale night, minutes bleeding into hours. He knew where she'd be—after she'd kill, or even if she'd just feel empty, she would go to a cold, dreary place. The only challenge was finding the right place with no knowledge of the Virginia landscape.

Fatigue never once crossed his form, but as time passed, he cursed the restrictions of his mortal body. He'd find her faster if he had his wings, but it was too dangerous; despite the darkness of the night, there was always the risk of a human witnessing him. So, he kept to his vehicle, pulling over occasionally to search through promising patches of forest.

He continued for the whole night, noting the horizon lightening. Sleep finally threatened his human shell, and he cursed, not giving up. He traveled for a few more hours, the clock hitting five in the morning. Color began to bleed into the sky.

"I'm here, Echo," he mumbled to himself, searching the sides of the road. "I am here."

Suddenly, that scent pummeled him, and he abruptly pulled over in drowsy surprise. That dull, void pulse that cried of emptiness—so near, so close, so raw. He exited the car and walked towards the atmosphere, faint but still noticeable. Dense, dewey-wet thicket brushed against his dress pants, and branches snapped under his feet. He continued for a few minutes, following her scent weaving through the trees.

"Hello?" he called, eyes sweeping through the dim underbrush. He searched for a well, taking a turn, and lit up when he saw one. Corroding stone and moss—a crumbling, dilapidated thing, but still perfect. Her scent was clear now.

"Echo," said Hannibal, leaning over the crumbling edge and gazing down. Relief flooded his body when he met bright blue eyes, swimming with that same expression as when he last saw her.

"It's been a long time," he continued. "Why are you still here?"

The girl blinked and wiped her eyes, pushing some brunette hair out of her face in the process. She stared up at Lecter, searching his face, and hugged her frame. An eternity passed, the two of them gazing at each other, and the sun rose to gentle color.

"...Az...Azmaveth?" she whispered, realization dawning on her tired features.

"Hannibal," he corrected, lingering for a moment. He tilted his head. "How did you recognize me?"

"Your eyes," she said, standing weakly. Faded blood stained her fingers, and her clothes hung loose and ragged on her frame. "They're the same."

Hannibal kneeled down, unable to help the smile gracing his lips. "I missed you."

She sent a weary smile as if his words hurt. "You're old now. Hasn't it only been nine years?"

"I had a different form," said Lecter. "You were very young—you would have been intimidated by a fully-grown man."

The girl stared, that empty feeling cascading over her and slumping her shoulders. "Why are you here?"

"To see you."

"But why now? You left me."

Hannibal lingered, catching his tongue. He shook his head slowly, reaching out a hand for her to take. "I'll tell you in the car," he said. "Let me take you home and get you cleaned up."

She gave an empty chuckle, taking Hannibal's hand and climbing up the well. "Home. Such a funny word."

Hannibal smiled down at her, and they headed back to his car.

"I'll take care of you, Abigail."

"How did it feel?" said Hannibal as he held Abigail's hand in his, gently washing away the blood from her fingers under the sink. She stared down at them, gaze blank and void.

"I don't know anymore," she said simply, watching the blood swirl down the drain. "I don't feel excited anymore, but… I can feel a mocking of it."

She glanced over at Hannibal, an eternal sadness swimming in her eyes.

"I know why I do it… but the feelings—they confuse me." She shook her head, staring back down at her hands. "I guess I feel anger when I kill, too. Anger for my parents. Anger for them abandoning me."

"That's not your fault."

Abigail rolled her eyes. "Now that you're here, I actually wonder," she glanced back at Hannibal, "if I'm angry with you, too."

Hannibal stared back at her, staring her evenly in the eyes. "Is it because I left you?"

Abigail firmly nodded, sifting through her dull emotions as she spoke with him. "I was alone. And then you found me crying—gave me reassurance, and told me everything was okay." Her thin brows furrowed, and she shook her head. "You stayed with me for two years then suddenly, you just left. You just left me."

Hannibal gently shook his head, brushing a lock of hair behind Abigail's ear—or what used to be of it. His brows knitted together. "I was sent down here to guard you, Echo," he said. "I didn't leave you." He brushed her hair away, gazing at the rough, healed cut where her ear once lay.

"Did they do this to you?"

Abigail huffed, turning her gaze away so her hair fell back down. "Your uncle did it."

Hannibal's nostrils flared, and he stilled for a moment. "Perago?"

She nodded, the void of her air rippling with some veneer of emotion. "I was all alone."

"I apologize, Abigail. I had no idea." He gently tilted her chin up. "My father told me to leave you in the hands of my family and assigned me to my original task here on earth. He said he trusted them." He shook his head in disappointment, and Abigail shrugged.

"They took me into the clouds for the first time," she said with a hint of nostalgia. "But I started fading away—like I were dying. Too much human in me, they said. Perago didn't even hesitate to throw me back down here." At those words, she began to tear up, and her chest tightened.

"No matter where I go, people abandon me."

Hannibal sighed and pulled Abigail into a hug, gently pulling her head into his chest. A heart-wrenching sob left her lips, and she buried her face in Hannibal's chest, finding comfort in the warmth of his embrace and his slow, strong-beating heart.

A long silence stretched over them, and Abigail eventually slowed down her quickened breaths, exhaling slowly and nuzzling the side of her face into Hannibal's strong chest.

"How did you find me?" she whispered, weary arms sliding down to hang down at her sides.

Hannibal gently held her at arm's length, gazing into the blue depths of her sorrowful eyes.

"I didn't find you," he said calmly, voice smooth and low. He ran a hand over Abigail's head gently. "But someone else did."

Thank you so much for reading and have a great night!

-Kassian