infomodder | IC contact [Mask or Menace]

I don't have an answer for that one. So I didn't answer.

Do you think it's because I deserve it?

[ funny how it went from "we" to "i" right there. ]

[Teenagers!!!]

No, I do not. You do not deserve that.

K.

[ yep. she really just. ]

[sorry april take 3]

You want some company?

[or does he need to get up and find Jayden]

I want some Valium and an entire bottle of wine.

No, I'm fine. Stay in bed, go back to sleep. Sorry I woke you.

There's alcohol in the fridge.

[It's...not especially great alcohol, but look, guardian don't give a shit if Abigail drinks. In the house.]

I was in bed, but I wasn't asleep. No need to be sorry. Do you want me to try getting a hold of Jayden? Anything?

[ the fridge is so far away. she abruptly decides that she doesn't care. ]

IDK. He doesn't want any help. He doesn't want to listen to anyone because what basically amounts to his dad is a serial killer and he won't admit it. And Yuri won't just tell him because he's a selfish asshole. He's going to let Jayden put himself in danger because he doesn't have the guts to just tell him.

I'm angry again. And a hypocrite.

[Gunther could probably fetch it for her. But it might be lukewarm by the time he gets it back.]

Look at everything you just typed out, though. This is a case of Jayden's actions and Yuri's actions. You're not at fault for any of what has happened or can happen. None of it is on you. You have a right to be angry. You're also not the only hypocrite involved.

If he gets hurt it's going to feel like my fault. I don't want Jayden to be like Marissa.

I've never wanted to go home before now. That bothers me.

Jayden can have bad things happen to him without you being involved in any way. You don't need to feel the same way you did with Marissa because it's not the same situation. At all. Jayden's world does not hinge on you.

[Unlike someone else's...]

And that sounds dangerously close to saying you're suicidal, you realize. I'm at the door.

[ huff. she doesn't answer right away, but eventually there is the rustle of blankets and the door creaks open to her mussed up hair and red rimmed eyes. ]

I'm not suicidal. I just... I'm not, okay?

[Will is also sporting mussed up hair. An undershirt and plaid pajama bottoms, but no red rimmed eyes. Some of those dark circles, sure, but they're natural. He tosses the communicator to the nearest flat surface and crosses his arms, one hand lifting to run over his neck as he drops focus from her face.]

Are you not decent, too?

[Or can I come in? He's not gonna just darken her door, come on, that's not his Mumford & Sons theme.]

[ stepping back from the door in lieu of invitation, she just moves to sit on the bed again, drawing the blankets around her like a coronation cape. she's the princess and the pea only the pea is serial killers. her pjs of choice are a blue minnesota wildmen hockey tee shirt (it has a bearded, flannel wearing lumberjack traversing a snowy mountain with a hockey stick in place of walking stick) and a pair pink and white striped pants that came in a set with a frilly pink camisole the cat claimed.

rude. ]

Everything sucks.

[ for as much as she's had to bear and as fast as she's had to grow up, she's still basically just a kid and sometimes life is just too much. ]

[Will shuffles in, leaving the door ajar, and sits next to her with little difficulty, though he's making a mental note of how to fix up the beds when they get their funds in a better spot. The days of him sitting at a comfortably impersonal distance are long gone, he is on those blankets like he's actual blood family and therefore has no reason to be awkward around her.]

Good summary. [He leans his elbows on his knees, running his hands over his face.] But I'd rather everything suck than go back to...

[There's a pointed look at the floor before he turns his eyes to her and offers a smile, face propped up in one hand, knee swaying slightly.

She's somebody's princess all right.]

Do you think they make insect repellent for serial killers? 'cause one was, you know, a horrible fluke. Two is just unlucky. Three is a pattern. Four is awful and I'd like to return my life for store credit.

[ the only difference with this serial killer is that he didn't try to PERSONALLY MURDER HER. it says something that she refuses to think of yuri as anything but "a serial killer" now. he lost all privileges to be anything but that when he refused to tell jayden the truth. at least abigail knew what her father was, she knew what hannibal was. eventually. ]

And I don't... want Jayden to end up like me.

[ she told yuri she meant dead, she didn't want jayden to end up dead, but that wasn't entirely true. abigail doesn't exactly love herself. she doesn't even like herself. she'd hate for jayden to be saddled with this, the constant second guessing and wondering how he could have missed it, why didn't he see it sooner, why wasn't he good enough to make yuri stop.

maybe that last one was specific to abigail and her father, though. ]

[His lips thin out at the question, running over who she must mean. An eyebrow lifts when he connects Eldon Stammets, and for a second, he thinks maybe that's a valid avenue to go down. Share the blame a little, take some of that guilt off her shoulders by putting them on his own.

Where it actually belongs and won't be considered a burden.

But. Ah.]

End up like you? [Abigail might not love or like herself, but Will does. The way he looks at her, the way he speaks, his voice is infected with love, even as his tone stays light. Simple. Free hand gesticulating lazily to reflect how tired they both are.] You see a similarity, that's fine. I do too. Yuri and I were...friendly. I still have the spare key to his apartment. [Oh, that's such a sad excuse for a smile. Yes, there are plenty of similarities.] People can react to similar situations differently, Abigail. What affects one person deeply doesn't bother another at all, and vice versa. There is no set path that he has to follow.

[Sort of like how Will's not reacting in the same way as Abigail or Jayden, check it.]

[ the tightness in her chest swells and she looks down at her hands in her lap, palest pink nail polish chipped and peeling, knuckles scraped from digging her hand too roughly behind a box in the back of the bait shop. ]

When did you know?

[ what he was, seems to be the unspoken end of the question, but she leaves that and the subject of the question open for interpretation. they rarely talked about hannibal, only short spurts before it was glossed over with something else. anything else.

but now, when she's being smacked in the face with yet another freakin' serial killer, one she had literally compared to hannibal... ]

[For a moment, Will wants to run with the idea that the question is directed to Yuri Petrov, thinks that Abigail might allow it. But there is one serial killer that has already been brought up tonight, however unnamed, and it could be an insult to both Abigail and himself for him to swim along that particular stream. Insult. Avoidance. Another skirting around the real issue that ends with him refusing to give Abigail even the slightest bit of closure.

When did you know?

If only Will had a specific answer.]

When he...framed me, I knew he was the Copy Cat. [He shifts, brings his knees together as he sits up straighter.] Beverly helped me see he was more. And... [Maybe someone else needs one of those drinks in the fridge right about now.] ...when I walked into his house and saw you there, I knew that...I hadn't known as much as I thought I did.

[Things were bad. Then they got worse.

Then he realized he hadn't taken into account how much worse they could possibly be and well. What did he know then? What did knowledge matter when he had still been completely blinded, where did that leave Abigail and him other than shattered teacups on the floor?

Will knew, but he didn't know enough.]

[ that actually lined up with that she thought, what made sense. she flinches when he mentions beverly, but manages to stop herself from apologizing again. there were all sorts of times he could have figured it out, she doesn't even know why she's asking. (she's asking because some part of her is perpetually of the mind that he knew about her and never acted. she'd seen the genuine surprise on his face, but her mind didn't always choose to accept logic.) ]

I think I knew when you walked through the door with him. [ into her hospital room. ] I picked up the phone... I heard him, but.

[ but she didn't know until leaving for minnesota that the man on the phone was also a serial killer. she'd convinced herself it was just coincidence. no one would have been so arrogant.

but then again, she wasn't actually supposed to survive, was she? ]

I was too tired to care. Yuri reminded me of him. [ and she was still too tired to care. ]

[Aca-aca-awkward. Will is more or less unresponsive when Abigail confesses about the time frame of when she knew. He'd spent so much time picking apart what had been said in his presence he'd been puzzled by but had cast off, how far back they'd gone. It tore at him, and those weren't questions he felt she deserved to feel "forced" to answer. Why didn't you tell us?

She did. In her own way. And in the end of it all, Alana was her mother.

Will was her father.

And Hannibal was once again the man on the phone.

It's the part about Yuri that gets his eyebrows raised, has him putting his hands down on the edge of the bed (wrinkling Princess' blanket, no big deal) and stretching his legs out somewhat. Yeah. He had that feeling, too.]

Was it the...suits? The way he talks? Or...something else?

[He's doing a shit job of hiding that he got that vibe, but damning every tall, well-dressed, European guy with a good vocabulary is just

rude!]

Both.

[ her shoulders lift in a disheartened shrug. the cat abandons the windowsill to pad across her lap and headbutt will. not even ziggy likes abigail. her life is pain. ]

He was always so calm and... thoughtful. And he seemed genuinely concerned about my nightmares and how I was coping. He said I sounded like him -- not being able to sleep, not knowing how to relax, I think his father hurt him. Hannibal was always curious how much like my dad I am. [ and with yuri's comparison... but she hurries to reassure. ] I know I'm not.

[ but gosh that comparison feels like a slap in the face. maybe she is. ]

Edited 2015-02-05 00:23 (UTC)

[Not the kitty headbutt! Will plays along with it well enough. He might put on airs of being a dog person, dogs are the best, dogs furever, but any animal that crosses his path with good intentions is going to be treated just the same as a dog. Ziggy gets his attention, hand running over her head, down her back, whatever physical affection she wants and allows is going to be readily found on Will Graham's lap.

He's still paying just as much attention to Abigail, though. Of course he is. She's the center of his universe, even if he's not staring at her intently, she's in his focus.]

No, you're not. [Not like her father, not like Yuri Petrov...that's something Will is damn certain of, not afraid to sound it, either.] I don't what Hannibal might have said to you, I don't...I didn't hear every conversation, I know that. But. You are nothing like him.

[Him. Could be a blanket case, her father, her terrible surrogate, Yuri, all of them in one go. Three birds with one stone.

Aha.]

I know. I know. [ she doesn't know, but that's not the point. the point is reassuring will that she knows, even if it's purely intellectually. ]

Are you mad at him?

[Will doesn't think she knows, either, but if she doesn't want to get into the process of unraveling that hellish nightmare with him right now, he's not going to press. He drags one leg up to cross over his knee, half on the bed as he resettles to make room for Ziggy wherever she might want to move. Or flop, either or.]

No. [He says after a long pause, licking his lips and shaking his head.] It's a waste of energy to be mad at him. [Because he's not here. Because Will might be dead if the Porter ever decides to shuffle him back to Baltimore. Because Hannibal left a great deal of room for Will to be mad at himself. He's smaller, here and now, one hand Ziggy's faithful servant and the other fiddling with the hem of his pants around his ankle.] So I...don't.

[Doesn't waste the energy or fuel his entire existence off his anger at Hannibal Lecter.

But, oh. That in no way means he's forgotten, does it? Could anyone?]

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