Chapter Text
Abigail’s condition drastically worsened throughout the night. It took several attempts to wake her when it was time for her medicine, and when she did wake up, she refused to take any.
“Abigail, it’s for the pain.” Hannibal sounded exasperated, or exhausted. As if he didn’t have the strength to push any farther.
“Why don’t you want the medicine, Abigail?” Will asked, deciding to take over for the time being.
“Do you ever feel like you’re outside yourself? Like you’re watching yourself on TV?”
“All the time.” Will reassured her.
He had seen many dead people in his time working for the FBI. It wasn’t often he saw someone dying. Seeing her like this, so close to death, he thought back to the day he shot her father. He felt much the same way he had that day; like Abigail’s life was slipping through his hands. It was his fault. “Is there anything we can do for you?”
“Just stay with me. Please?”
“Of course.”
She looked to Hannibal next, who immediately sat by her, taking her hand.
***
Abigail had been fighting for so long. Fighting sleep, fighting her reputation, fighting everything . Everything had been a fight and she couldn’t imagine not fighting this moment, even though it had been inevitable.
It had been an hour since any of them had spoken. Hannibal had fallen asleep about half-an-hour ago, leaving Will and Abigail to sit in silence. Abigail was drifting off, but she kept shaking herself awake.
“Abigail,” Will whispered, “It’s okay to let go.”
“I don’t think I know how.”
He put his arm around her, pulling her closer to his chest. “Just breathe.”
She fell asleep a few minutes later, and passed away shortly after. Will woke Hannibal up a few minutes later, when the snow started falling.
“Is she-?”
Will nodded, his eyes glassy and unfocused. “We should bury her.”
“Is that what she would’ve wanted?” Hannibal asked, reaching out to brush a strand of hair away from her calm face.
“She never got what she wanted,” Will whispered, looking down at her. She looked like she was sleeping. “She never once got what she wanted. She didn’t want to be part of her father’s crimes. She didn’t want any of this.”
Hannibal sat back, folding his hands in his lap. They kept eye contact for a few quiet moments before Hannibal broke away to look up at the sky; the falling snow. “We should bury her.”
Will didn’t make any attempt to move. He still held Abigail close. Protectively.
“May I?” Hannibal asked, reaching out for her. Will didn’t answer, but he didn’t protest when Hannibal took Abigail from his arms.
Her grave was dug under the tree, with sticks and their bare hands. Before the dirt was poured back in, Hannibal brought the duffel bag over. He pulled a blanket out and laid it with her. The blanket was a small quilt, made up of pink floral patches. Too small to be for a bed. Will realized it must have been Mischa’s.
They covered her up silently, neither of them having the right words to say yet.
The snow fell harder now, starting to stick in scattered, fluffy patches. They sat on either side of her grave, letting snow and silence fall between them. Will reached out, and put his hand on the fresh dirt. It looked like he was trying to resurrect her, letting some of the life from his hands seep back into her.
“It felt wrong. To mourn her the first time. When I thought I’d done it.”
Hannibal was silent, letting Will speak his eulogy.
“It felt selfish. Like I wasn’t allowed to grieve her, because of the grief I’d caused her. But when I realized it was you…” Will stopped, letting his voice trail off as he looked to Hannibal, his eyes filled with hurt.
“How did it feel?” Hannibal asked, his voice just above a whisper. Barely there.
“Justified. Righteous. Like I was the only one allowed to.” He stopped, looking at the plot in front of them. “You don’t deserve to mourn her, Hannibal.” His words were cold, matter-of-fact.
Hannibal nodded and stood. He walked around the makeshift campsite, trying to hide any evidence of them being there, although the snow would take care of that soon enough.
“We should find a town. Get a room somewhere before the snow gets bad.”
Will nodded numbly, standing on uneasy legs. He had no idea where to go from here. The woods had been a refuge these past few days. The thought of going back into a city made him nervous.
“Are you ready?”
Will didn’t answer, instead picking a direction and starting to walk. Hannibal followed along, staying a step behind.