d33tached | maskormenace

[Abigail starts gathering what she needs, missing his bitterness]

Do you eat pork? I was thinking of making sausage patties. If Hannibal shows up, don't tell him I made patties instead of proper sausages. They're just as good to me, and I don't want to have to bother with the casings. I can use chicken if you don't like pork.

[If Hannibal shows up, D33 thinks, he'll have much more to say to him than a comment as to how Abigail chooses to prepare her sausage.]

Pork is fine.

[He says this quickly, flatly. He considers leaving it at that, leaving Abigail to her cooking and whatever conversation she might come up with on her own. But, after a moment, he just has to ask:]

Do you not fear his arrival, Abigail? Certainly the way in which you prepare your sausage should be the least of your concerns when it comes to that man.

[He pauses, tries to think of how exactly to ask this next question.]

Would you go to him, Abigail? If he were to arrive here.

Despite everything that's happened, would you return to him, should he ask you to?

[The question puts a pit in D33's stomach - mostly because he's not quite sure what his own answer would be, should the man in question change from Hannibal to a certain R01.]

[Abigail works quietly, mixing the pork with herbs and spices. It might even seem as if she hadn't heard him until she finally speaks.]

Of course I do. I was afraid the last time he was here. I'm afraid of him coming back. I'm afraid of the porter bringing my dad here. Or Nicholas Boyle. Or Jack Crawford. I'm scared all the time. I keep the fear in the back of my mind most of the time, so I can function. But it's always there.

[Hannibal's always there in her mind. She adds an an egg white to the mix, using a trick he taught her to crack and separate the egg. She can almost see him there now cooking with her, capable of comforting or killing her depending on his whim. She still believes he loved her in the way he was capable of loving.]

I would return to him if he asked, yes. I wouldn't have a choice.

Yes, you would.

[D33 surprises himself at the sound of his own voice - firm, defensive, aggressive, even. It causes him to take a step back from her, clearing his throat while he casts his eyes in the direction opposite from her. But he doesn't go back on what he's said - even if he understands better than anyone the truth to Abigail's words.

[He'd think the same, should R01 arrive here-- But, no, no. He would never return to that man. He'd rather die than return to that man. After all, isn't that what had caused him to flee in the first place?]

You have a choice here. [He almost sounds angry as he says it, but really it's frustration - frustration at his own battling thoughts.

[Would she have a choice here? Would he? Would either of their noncompliance simply end in another graphic death should they attempt to resist? This world has its freedoms - of that much, D33 is certain. But it doesn't change the fact that either of those men arriving through the Porter would put targets on their backs.

[The only difference with this world is that Royce could kill him a thousand times over and he'd keep coming back. The thought now makes him feel positively sick to his stomach.

[If D33's first few words had surprised him, the one's about tocome out of his mouth do more so - world's more so.]

I would protect you.

Edited 2017-11-01 23:59 (UTC)

[Abigail shakes her head, staring down at the food to keep herself from looking at D33. Hannibal's influence is so strong. It's been a year since she's been in her world and she still has days where she expects this to all be a dream.]

I don't have a choice if he's here. My life's not mine. It never really was.

[It feels that way to her. She thinks of herself as property. First, her father's possession and then Hannibal's gift for Will, kept in his basement until they were to be reunited.]

I was supposed to die in my Dad's kitchen when he cut my throat. But Hannibal saved me. Every day I've had after that is because of him. I was supposed to go to prison and he saved me from that too. My life is his. I didn't want to die, but it was his right to do what he did.

[Abigail finally forces herself to look at D33. He's already done so much, simply by being there with her.]

I believe you. I believe you'd want to try, but he'd kill you too. If he came back, you'd have to stay away.

[She can't stand the idea of him bleeding to death with her. Hannibal might do something worse than a cut throat to anyone who tried to stop him.]

You're protecting me right now, saving me from being alone.

["My life's not mine. It never really was."

[Abigail's words hit D33 like a knife to the chest. His fists and teeth clench beyond his control.

[This man that Abigail speaks so highly of, this man that she considers herself the property of, this man that cut her own throat - whose right it was to cut her throat?

[D33 knows him too. And for the first time since he left the organization, in that moment, he feels the most overwhelming urge to kill.]

I'd like to see him try.

[He nearly spits as he's speaking, nostrils flaring while his body continues to tense.]

You're wrong, Abigail.

Your life is yours, now. You cannot allow him to take it back from you.

You cannot return to him.

[And then, an even more dangerous thought appears in D33's mind - "I won't let you."]

Please don't be mad at me.

[Abigail's not sure how to react to it. Her father and Hannibal never showed anger, even as they pulled the knife across her throat.]

I wouldn't want to see him try. I want better for you.

[Even the idea of it is enough to make her feel sick. D33 shouldn't be subjected to Hannibal's violence, especially not for her sake.]

My life isn't mine now. The porter brought me here after I died. It could send me back anytime. Just like Hannibal could kill me anytime after he saved me from my dad. All I have is borrowed time.

[She is so used to being powerless, it's hard to think any other way.]

If he came here again and if he wanted me to go back to him, I would go. It doesn't mean he'd kill me. Things are different here. Hannibal and I could be the family we wanted to be.

He isn't your family Abigail, he's--

[A monster. D33 bites off his own words, stopping to take in a deep breath. Compose yourself, he thinks. Why show this girl such vitriol? Why care about her either way?

[Let her go back to him, D33 thinks - the foolish girl.

[After all, is the venom behind his words not truly directed back at himself? For he knows that, should his own Hannibal arrive within the Porter cities, he is not entirely convinced that he wouldn't do the same.

[But it certainly wouldn't be out of any familial sense. That he thinks, is pure foolishness.]

Forget it. [His words are quick, cold.] Do what you will.

[There's a pause.]

But, do not expect me to associate with that man.

[Or else he - Hannibal - will be the one with a knife in his throat, D33 thinks.]

He's complicated. Families are complicated. My dad, Hannibal.

[She's been trained to associate family love with dependency, with being controlled, even with risking being killed.]

[She frowns as his voice turns cold. She wants him to care. Maybe she even needs him to care. She starts working on the food again, keeping herself from being too emotional again.]

Would it be so hard for you to associate with him? You're a killer too. So am I. He might understand you in ways others can't. Not just because he's killed. He's a psychiatrist. And he's smart. Really smart.

[She knows it makes Hannibal dangerous. It also allowed her to be accepted by Hannibal even with everything her father made her do.]

He's a monster.

[The man nearly spits this - apparently he's not so good at keeping himself from getting too emotional again, but he straightens a moment later, looking stubbornly away.]

Forgive me, Abigail, but from everything you've told me of the man, I can say definitively that I have no interest in making his acquaintance.

Associate with him if you must. I will not.

[A "killer". She makes it sound like a dirty word. 'I'm nothing like that man,' D33 thinks. But he knows it isn't true. Perhaps that's why he got so emotional in the first place.]

Do you think I'm a monster?

[She'll make him look at her if she can.]

Here, take this mixture and start forming it into patties. About this size.

[She demonstrates.]

This is all hypothetical, you know. He might not even come back. He wasn't here that long before.

I think that I would rather not discuss this matter any further.

[He says this, and it's finalized in his mind. He goes about repeating the steps she's just shown him.]

That's a yes, then.

[If she is a monster, then so is he. She busies herself, chopping, slicing and dicing vegetables and cheese for an omelette with incredible speed from her powers. It's a nice distraction. When she's calmer, she looks at him again.]

Good. Now, we can put some oil in a pan and start frying them.

Enough.

[The man practically growls, shooting Abigail a dangerous glare.]

I won't tolerate your putting words into my mouth, girl.

[Said with a surprising amount of vitriol. She's pushing all the right buttons.]

If you would like for me to leave, then I will. I said that I do not want to discuss this anymore.

[Abigail puts the knife down and takes a quick step back from it, not wanting to hurt D33 in a panic. And she does feel panicked. The only thing worse than having him angry at her, would be having him leave. She turns her attention to the stove, staying away from the knife.]

Please don't go.

[D33 is quiet for a long moment. He notes her keeping away from the knife - the fact that she discards it so quickly is almost a little threatening in and of itself. He takes a step back from her as well, but he doesn't stray farther than that. Eventually, quietly, bitterly, he responds:]

We'll have no more talk of this, then.

[It still feels as if he's mad at her. Abigail simply nods and takes some of the patties he made, adding them to a frying pan. She then takes the vegetables she chopped, being careful to avoid the knife itself and works on the omelette. Her hands shake as she works. When she speaks, her voice is quiet and she stammers slightly. ]

It won't take long now for the food to be ready.

Very well, then.

[His voice remains quiet, somewhat irritated, but he steps close to her again, willing to let the topic rest if she will.]

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I'll probably wrap this up here if that's okay with you!

That's okay with me :)