It had been two years since Abigail’s life both ended and began. Two years since she’d bled across Hannibal’s kitchen floor with shuddery, gasping breaths and nearly drowned in her own blood. She hadn’t ever thought she’d recover. In a way, she hadn’t wanted to get better and find her path, because that had almost seemed like an insult to those who had died. But fate had been forgiving –generously so – and after the doctors had given her the “all clear,” a tight-lipped, surly agent had arrived to take her into protective custody.
“It’s for your own safety,” he had muttered. “With Dr. Lecter still on the loose, it’s best if nobody from your past knows you’re alive.”
The agent – Agent Stone, as it had later been revealed – had given her papers for her new identity, and she’d then been welcomed into the home of a kind, sweet little old couple on a ranch out in Montana. It was more than she could have ever asked for. As a young girl, she’d enjoyed going to Marissa’s uncle’s ranch and visiting with the horses, each gentle and patient as she clumsily attempted to ride them. This time, however, horses and beautiful mountains were all part of her backyard. It made her giddy each time she realized that.
On this particular day, Abigail was out helping in the stables. As she raked up muck from the hay, she turned her head when she heard voices – one of which was Henry, the old, sweet man she’d come to think of as a grandfather, and the other was…
Abruptly freezing, she turned her head and peered out toward the road alongside the fences. For the longest time, she stood there staring, her chest feeling tight and restrictive from the pains it took to breathe. She wasn’t imagining things – it was Will Graham. Despite her new name of Faith Meadows, he had found her. Trembling, the muckrake she’d been holding toppled to the ground with a soft, useless thwop. If he knew she was alive, did that mean Hannibal knew, too?
Dizzily, she leaned against a post and swallowed, her vision pitching and wavering as Henry ambled toward her with Will in tow.
“Agent Stone didn’t say you were coming,” she could hear Henry saying. “Abigail doesn’t speak about her past, and we don’t force it on her, though I’m sure she’ll be happy to see a familiar face.”
He waved to her then, to which Abigail shrank back. Ducking down for the muckrake, she could somehow feel her thick, ropy scar tissue throb and burn as she gripped the tool between her hands. The men’s shadows fell over her then and she closed her eyes, swallowing sharply.
“He shouldn’t be here,” she rasped, finally managing to lift her gaze. “Wherever Will is, Hannibal isn’t far behind.” The blood rushed from her cheeks, and she woozily managed to stand again. “You need to leave.”
I’m finally happy. I’m finally free. Haven’t you done enough?
IT HADN’T EXACTLY BEEN KIND, the passage of time spent in the wake of Abigail’s absence. It hadn’t been easy, the feelings and emotions that had come and gone in the brief moments of interaction and conversation; a heinous crime nearly whitewashed by yellow tape and flashing lights. The recovery had certainly been harder, whether for himself or for Abigail Will hadn’t been to sure- BUT THAT HADN’T MATTERED TO HIM. What had kept Will on his feet was his desire to see Abigail alive ! To see her lively and free; a glowing beacon, tossed about on the open sea- but he wasn’t fortunate enough to be granted such a wish. He hadn’t been given his final goodbye- Jack had worked to keep him separate. Had been sure to label Will “compromised” and “hysterical”, had told Will “he had gotten too close to the case” and that “Abigal was no longer HIS CONCERN.” And perhaps she wasn’t, but that hadn’t stopped Will from caring.
AND IN THE MONTHS Will had spent recovering at Johns Hopkins, he thought greatly of Hannibal. But with each passing day, he thought more of her. And in those same months, the line between dreams and reality had begun to blur. Long days became longer nights, with dreamless sleep and walking nightmares. ABIGAIL CAME TO HIM, had sat beside his bed and had watched upon him with lifeless eyes. Some days she’d wail, HER CRIES FILLING THE ROOM WITH A RUBY RIVER- and Will would start awake, his mouth tasting of zinc and copper. Other days she’d sit at the window, a book at her nose, and each giggle would cast small droplets of blood onto the paper. And, when it came time for Will to leave, Abigail stopped coming altogether.
WHEN WILL HAD REQUESTED extra time for himself, Jack had been too kind in granting it. Had treated him as if he were but a faun, wounded and lame. Had told him to “come back when he was ready”, as though he didn’t quite believe Will ever would be. And so Will had retired himself to Wolf Trap, surrounded by the dogs, the wilderness, and solitude. His first days were filled of rest, and replaced later by restlessness. AND, WITH ALL HIS TIME ALONE, he started searching for answers. Had started making phone calls and getting his hands dirty- had went under Jack’s nose to find names and locations and seek closure. Most of his investigations lead to trails that had no happy ending, until he stumbled upon a file stored away with the name of HOBBS, ABIGAIL. Will spent many nights spent sifting through particulars and addresses before he could pinpoint where Abigail had been relocated to.
THAT NIGHT, WILL HAD LEFT with more than a week’s worth of food and water left out for the dogs. Had spent 3 days traveling across the country, through Pennsylvania, Ohio, and Indiana, towards Illinois, Wisconsin, and Minnesota. His last night he had made a stop near the border of North Dakota and Montana, at a Super 8 with a too-small ‘renovated bathroom’ that had a broken overhead air conditioner and a yellowed ceiling. He had left early the following morning, THE SUN JUST PEEKING OVER THE HORIZON once he hit the highway. It was near afternoon once he reached the neighborhood the Meadows family resided in. His hands, too tight on the steering wheel, felt hot as he turned into the driveway. Felt hotter still as he parked and turned off the engine to get out. The walk from his car to the front door of the house felt an eternity until the screen door opened to reveal a man in the halfway point of his Golden Years. “I...” and Will swallows, “I’m here to see Abigail.”
AND HE NODS AS certain social cues present themselves, reaches for a handshake and smiles when he’s supposed to- carefully avoids looking the man in the eyes by keeping his gaze fixed on the corner of his glasses. He flinches when Henry’s hand raises to gesture for Abigail to join them in conversation, and his heart drops when she doesn’t. So Henry, with all his wisdom, takes Will by the arm and ALL BUT DRAGS HIM to face her, speaking for him with a endearingly misplaced confidence. “Abigail, Hannibal left and he took Bedelia with him.” And this isn’t how he wanted this... reunion to go. Didn’t want to face rejection and unbridled FEAR ! “He’s not coming back.”
