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“Daddy”
Will’s head snaps up from where he was staring at the blinking cursor, which, for all intents and purposes, seemed to be mocking him in his inability to write anything. He turns to Mary, solely to be met by two big blue eyes and a tiny stoic face.
“Yes baby?” He asks, trying for lighthearted instead of frustrated and failing miserably. Fuck writer’s block, honestly. Sighing, he takes off his glasses and rubs at his eyes.
Mary doesn’t say anything, just stands in the threshold to his small office.
“Is it a bad time?” She asks after a while. Her tone is incredibly neutral, unnaturally polite, for a six year old. And Will is used to that, because it’s Mary. The little thing is a granny in a kid’s body, all maturity and composure. Babies are too heavy she’d told Will once, after having asked him where babies come from. Upon hearing his answer, she looked at him like he was special ed and started speaking slowly for his benefit. The storks would fall from the sky, daddy.
“No baby, it isn’t. Need something?”
Mary’s neutral face doesn’t change. But she starts shifting her weight from foot to foot. Which, in any other kid, would be a sign of anxiety. But Mary isn’t anxious. She never is. Instead she seems… energetic. Her breathing coming a bit fast. Her hands held behind her back as if she’s… waiting for something. And that’s what get’s Will’s attention. Because Mary seemed excited. And that was rare.
He makes to stand up from his chair, frowning. “You okay?”
At seeing him stand up, Mary’s shifting stops. And she looks up at him, her eyes bright, but face still blank. “I want to show you something.”
Will considers her for a minute.
“Alright”
She leads him out of the house, through the backyard, and into the woods right behind it. They pass a couple of trees, and then they come to a stop.
“Here,” she says, and then points at something on the ground.
Will stills.
“Mary.”
The dead cat lays there, guts spilling out. A bloodied kitchen knife right next to an eyeball.
Mary stares at him, blonde hair tumbling down her shoulders. Hands clasped behind her back after having had them clasped in her front while leading Will here. And that’s when Will notices, that she’s wearing a different dress from what she did this morning. Different shoes. She looks at him. Expectant.
Look at what I did, those eyes are saying. Isn’t it fascinating?
He knows eyes like that too well. And he swallows the dread he feels.
“Are you hurt?” Will asks her, kneeling down next to her and ignoring the very dead cat next to them. Mary notices the dismissal, and her face falls. Although what that means is that the tilt to her lip turned downward.
They’re so alike
“I’m not hurt,” she says. Will sighs and forces one of her hands from behind her back. There are cat scratches all over them.
“Sure you’re not,” he says. “We’re going to have to take care of those.”
Mary looks at him as he inspects her hands. “I killed it”
Will doesn’t look up at her. “I see that”
A beat passes. In which Will doesn’t move because he doesn’t know how to approach this. This… this wasn’t supposed to happen.
She was supposed to remain intact. Untouched.
“Do you like it?”
All the fear he feels rising up comes to a halt at her innocent question. And he feels a calm wash over him, because it’s him. This is him all over again. Will should’ve known. And maybe he did, he just chose to ignore it. That they had been raising her to become them. To become him. Do you like it? Of course he did. It’s Hannibal.
“We’re not suppose to kill things, Mary,” Will says, finally looking at her in the eye. He holds her tiny hands in his. And the scratches are deep, but any sign of discomfort is hidden by Mary’s stoic face.
She’s so strong. Always has been.
She tilts her head minutely. “Why not?”
Her eyes are so genuinely curious.
“Because there’s no need nor reason to,” Will answers. Knowing all of this is comically hypocritical, but wanting to try anyways. He feels like he has to, like he owes it to the universe to try and make his daughter feel bad about killing a cat. Although it’s obvious she doesn’t feel any guilt.
And why should her?
Mary gives him that ‘are you special ed?’ look. “But I wanted to see what it’d look like inside. That’s a reason.” You clueless child, her eyes say.
Will ignores this, and his previous point, to ask her. “And were you satisfied?”
Mary looks at him, blankly. Thinking.
“There wasn’t much to see. It was all red.”
~~~
After treating the scratches in Mary’s hands and arms. Will calls Hannibal right away.
He’s home in less than thirty minutes.
“What’s the emergency?” He asks as soon as he enters the house. It’s a good look on him, hair slightly disheveled, probably from the wind. Faintly out of breath. “Where’s Meredith?” He asks, eyes tracing the room in slight panic.
Will crosses his arms on his chest. “She’s fine. She’s in her room.”
Hannibal visibly relaxes, letting out a breath.
“She killed a cat, Hannibal,” Will tells him, voice accusing, like it’s Hannibal’s fault.
Hannibal blinks. “What?”
“Mary. With a kitchen knife. She gutted it, Hannibal. Because she was curious.”
Hannibal blinks again. “And that’s why you called me and told me to be home immediately,” he says, not a question, but a statement.
“Yes”
“Saying it was an emergency”
“Yes”
“This is not an emergency, William.”
Will eyes widen in a mixture of offense and accusation. “But it is.”
Hannibal sighs. He hangs his jacket and passes Will by, giving him a quick kiss on his temple. “It’s not.”
Will stands there, perplexed, before following Hannibal. Who is going up the stairs, seemingly to Mary’s room.
“It was meant to happen,” Hannibal tells him.
Will stare hardens. “It wasn’t”
“She’s ours Will”
“Doesn’t mean she has to be like us”
Hannibal stops. “She isn’t. We taught her to be curious, to satisfy that curiosity. We taught her to be proud of her achievements, whatever may those be. And if this is where those teachings have led her, it would be hypocritical of us not to guide her along.”
Will scrutinizes him for a long moment, Hannibal looks at him right back.
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
Hannibal smiles. “I fail to see where that’s wrong.”
“We will protect her.”
Hannibal’s smile stretches even more. “That has always been the plan.”