An unsteady breath left him. Whatever happened, whether within their internal or external prison, he knew now that she was listening-that she could her way back to him if she became lost in the darkness. And that was enough. Loneliness, isolation, that’s what the Chesapeake Ripper had used to ensnare them both. He would be damned if he allowed that to happen again. Abigail wasn’t alone; she was safe. And Will planned to keep it that way, even if it meant giving up on morals, or even his life. What value did it have left anyway, if there was nothing left to fight for?
“I’m going to catch him Abigail. I just need the evidence.” His voice was even- something that was rare for him these days. When he wasn’t on the verge of a psychotic break, his words were dull- just as the world around him. It was hard finding conviction, knowing that the man that had destroyed so many lives was out there continuing his work. And knowing that he was the only one that could put an end to it. “I got close. I saw him for what he was, and what he wasn’t willing to show. He’ll reveal himself again. It’s in his nature. And when he does, I’ll be prepared.”
Will couldn’t help but glance down, a smile tugging at his lips as he took in that elegant black script. Despite her injuries, despite what fear and bitterness had undoubtedly settled in the psychiatrist’s veins- pumping it throughout her system, consuming her bit by bit, she was still the same woman that he would kill for. At least, she pretended to be. Alana would always put everyone else first, even if the two now in question were the reasons why she wouldn’t be able to walk again.
“Abigail…” Will kept his gaze on their hands. He was afraid of what he might find lurking behind those once bright eyes. He refused to believe that she was beyond saving, even if it took the rest of his life to prove himself right. “You didn’t enjoy it, not like he did. He didn’t see people; he saw pigs- useless beings worth only slaughter. You’re not like that. I know.” The empath ignored the tears he could feel burning his eyes. He couldn’t afford to shed them, not while he had the strength. “I’m not who you think I am. Perhaps, we’re both disillusioned.”
He glanced between the patients- rocking themselves, some attached to an IV bag, and others with words just as frantic as their movements. “I killed someone. I could’ve stopped at any time. But all I saw was him.” He risked her gaze. He hadn’t planned on disclosing how far his trap for Hannibal had gone, or what marks were left. But looking at her now, seeing how afraid she was of herself, he couldn’t allow it. “I took him to Hannibal. We filleted him, and I…created my own display. And we ate him together.”
Will exhaled slowly, ignoring the way he was gripping the table. The wendigo hadn’t died that night. It never left, and it never would. He would always be with him- the remains Hannibal had left, the foul existence that had always resided within him. He could only hope that whatever remained in Abigail was far less sinister. She needed a chance to survive him. “I sat at his table, knowing what he was. I forgot my morals. All that mattered was that I was going to put an end to the monster I thought was my friend.”
He chuckled weakly, tears falling despite himself. “Then I saw you. And everything changed. If I had known Abigail, I would have left when he first asked me.” He swallowed, looking away from her. He knew the words were true, he had since the night he’d clasped her neck- losing his blood to keep hers. “You should never have been brought into our world Abigail. The fault’s mine. He went after you because you are what means the most to me.” Will rubbed his eyes, using the restraint he’d learned with Hannibal to not become unraveled. She needed an anchor, stability. And he would be that for, or at least pretend to be. “You are not like us. You weren’t born for destruction.”
Will returned his glasses to their rightful place. “I’m surviving,” he murmured, giving her his best smile. “I have reason to. And that’s more than I could ask for.”
“You don’t know where Hannibal went, Will…” Her eyes started welling up in tears. She nodded when she heard him say that Hannibal would reveal herself again, although her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Would he risk showing himself again..? His secret’s out now–even Jack knows…”
“Didn’t enjoy it…?” Abigail supposed she didn’t enjoy killing victims she was ordered to kill; she was so utterly consumed with fear of Hannibal’s presence–but she remembered when she killed Nick Boyle, she had felt alive; it felt good. “I’m not sure you know who I am anymore either, Will…” Abigail breathed a short laugh, upon hearing Will say that perhaps they were both disillusioned. It just seemed so ironic, they were both rather similar in some ways but still thought well of each other.
She frowned a little when she heard Will say that Hannibal only saw his victims as pigs to the slaughter. She believed that Hannibal did care for her once, like a daughter almost. But not anymore… Something had snapped inside of him, the ruthless cannibal instinct, which took place, as soon as he had confronted her and sliced off her ear. And made her live in fear of him…
“No, you can’t say that…!” She gripped Will’s hand tighter. He couldn’t burden himself any more than he always did, him being the empath. “It wasn’t your fault…it was Hannibal’s.”
“Y-you filleted an man…?” Abigail repeated a little unsteadily, making sure that she heard Will right. She knew how gruesome Hannibal’s displays could be, and was relieved to not have been there to witness one he and Will created together. “Who was it..?” Looking at Will now, she wasn’t afraid of him, she trusted him and his motives, however questionable. He was trying to be the best person he could be, in his situation.
She truly felt like she was constantly slipping into darkness, and Will was the only light, the only person stopping her from being completely consumed by it.
“We’ll survive together…” Abigail said quietly through her tears, her voice thick with emotion.
