Author's Note: While the show implies that Hannibal knowingly ate his sister, and did so to grieve her, I prefer the version of events presented in the original books, so that's what I'm going with here. For those of you not familiar with the books, Hannibal was unknowingly fed broth by the German deserters who murdered and cannibalized his sister that had been made with his remains. This fact is used to taunt Hannibal when he hunts down the leader of the group that had killed his sister when they were children.

Hannigail fans go away pls, this is a platonic father-daughter bonding zone only

Title comes from the song "Youth" by Daughter.

Hannibal tries not to think of himself in this moment, as Abigail confesses to him that she knew all along about what her father had been doing, as she tells him she was the lure.

"I couldn't tell him no," she says, tears streaming down her face. "I knew...I knew it was them or me."

She looks up at him, terrified, and Hannibal is thrown into a flashback for a brief moment. He tries harder to focus on the present.

Hannibal takes Abigail into his arms, holding her tightly, as if she may literally fall apart if he lets go. He strokes her hair and stops just short of kissing her forehead, unsure of how she would react. He can test that at a time when she is feeling better.

"I wondered when you would tell me," he whispers. He feels Abigail freeze in his arms. She begins to ask how long he's known, but he interrupts. "I have always suspected," he tells her, holding her a bit tighter. He feels her nails dig into the fabric of his shirt.

"I'm a monster," she breathes.

"No," Hannibal replies immediately, almost offended by the notion. He takes a moment to compose himself. "I know what monsters are," he says. "You are a victim. And Will Graham and I, we're going to protect you." Hannibal lets that statement hang in the air. When Abigail doesn't respond, his own confession finally slips out. "We're both victims, Abigail. Neither of us intended to enter this world, but circumstance gave us no choice."

Abigail pulls back enough to look up at Hannibal curiously. Tears still blur her vision, and her nose is running, but she's focusing too much on Hannibal's words to care.

"What do you mean?" she asks.

Hannibal brings a hand down through her hair, and then back up to cup her cheek. "That is a story for another time. Tonight, the focus should be on you, not me." He takes a deep breath, and tries to push away the memories that are finding their way to the forefront of his mind. "I have been holding onto these demons for many years, Abigail. I can hold onto them a bit longer."

Abigail nods and leaves it at that. She leans forward, fully returning to Hannibal's embrace. Her fingers pick at a thread on his waistcoat, and Hannibal can't find it in himself to care.

"Does that mean I'm going to turn out like you?" she asks. "I already killed Nicholas Boyle." She laughs bitterly. "Who's next?"

"Everyone responds to trauma differently, Abigail. Everyone grows from it differently. Especially when the traumas one might compare are very different." Hannibal strokes her hair again. "You killed Nicholas Boyle for the same reason that you lured those girls. You know it was them or you, and you acted on the instinct of self-preservation. It's not your fault."

Abigail only crumbles further, letting out a whimper and starting to sob again. Hannibal holds her until her eyes are dry, until she is no longer shaking, before finally taking her to her room. He leaves her to get ready for bed on her own, only returning to her room when she calls him back well over an hour later.

He sits Abigail down at the vanity, gently brushing through her wet hair. They're both silent for a while, until Hannibal sets the brush down.

"I didn't call you back to my room to brush my hair," Abigail says, locking eyes with Hannibal in the mirror of the vanity.

"What did you call on me for, then?"

"Well," she says, turning around in her chair to look directly at him, "it is another time."

Hannibal smiles. "I will tell you eventually, Abigail, but not tonight. My memories are not ones to comb through before bed. I am sure they would only make your nightmares worse and outbalance the satisfaction of your curiosity." He takes her hand, pulling her to her feet, and presses a kiss to her forehead. "It's time for bed."

Abigail smiles. "Yeah, okay."

"Would you like for me to tell you a bedtime story?" Hannibal asks as he tucks her into bed.

"I'm not a little kid," she replies. She pauses. "What have you got?"

Hannibal takes a seat next to her bed and begins to recall a children's tale he used to tell Mischa. By the time he finishes telling it, Abigail is fast asleep. He pulls the blanket over her shoulder and switches the lamp off, careful not to make any noise as he leaves her room.

The next morning, he sees her as he's making breakfast. She shuffles into the kitchen, rubbing sleep from her eyes, and her long hair is a mess. She walks over to Hannibal and leans her head against his shoulder.

"What's f-" Abigail cuts herself off, yawning. "What's for breakfast?"

Hannibal turns and kisses the top of her head. "Wait and find out," he replies, smiling softly. "Go on to the dining room, Abigail. Take the pitcher with you, please. I'm almost finished here."

Abigail nods. "Mhm," she replies, yawning again. She grabs the pitcher of orange juice and walks into the dining room, setting it on the table just before taking her seat.

Nearly ten minutes later Hannibal is finished with breakfast. He lays Abigail's plate in front of her, then sits down in front of his own.

Abigail picks her fork up and pokes at a piece of sausage. "So, who's this?" she asks.

"I don't believe the butcher I received the pork from names his pigs," Hannibal replies. "But I will look into it, if you're curious."

Abigail blinks. "This isn't...human?" she asks.

Hannibal lays his fork down and looks Abigail in the eye. "I have never fed you human flesh, and I will not do so unless you tell me you are okay with that. I will not force you into cannibalism, or lie to you about anything I feed you."

Abigail blinks. "Oh," she says softly.

"I won't ask you to help me kill anyone or butcher a corpse," Hannibal adds. "And I won't handle a body or any organs while you are in my home."

Abigail takes a deep breath. "I'm not going to lose it if I walk in the kitchen and see you chopping up some guy's liver."

"I know," Hannibal replies. "But your father forced you to aid him in his work. You had to sit in your home for nearly a year wondering if he was making his latest victim for dinner, or when the next instance would be that he asks you to be his lure. You will never have to wonder with me, Abigail. If you take part in my killing or my eating, it shall be of your own volition." Hannibal pauses, and his expression softens. "I want you to feel safe, Abigail."

Abigail nods, and a smile appears on her face. "I feel safe," she says, taking a bite of her food. "Thank you."

Hannibal picks his fork up again and continues eating. "There is nothing to thank me for. I am simply doing right by my daughter."

Abigail's smile widens. She doesn't reply, she just continues to eat, and Hannibal smiles right back.

They continue to eat, mostly in silence, and Abigail helps Hannibal wash the dishes afterwards. Then, they head back upstairs to Abigail's room, and Hannibal sits Abigail down at the vanity once more. He gently brushes the tangles out of her hair, humming softly as he does so.

"Would you like to hear another story?" he asks.

"Another fairytale?" Abigail asks. "Could you french braid my hair?"

"I was thinking something more on the real side of things," he replies. "And yes, of course."

"What are you going to tell me about, then?"

Hannibal smiles to himself, beginning to braid Abigail's hair. "Who," he corrects.

"Who?" she echoes.

"Someone very special. Someone I loved very much." He locks eyes with Abigail in the mirror. "A girl that you remind me of very much."

"What was her name?" Abigail asks.

"Mischa."