From: Abigail

Dad, I'm running away to your house. If Hannibal calls, I'm safe. Don't tell him where I am. I love you. x

It was never a good thing to read that message, and then see the plethora of missed calls from Hannibal underneath it. The message was dated an hour ago; the calls started one minute later. He called the doctor first.

"What's happened?"

"Do you know where Abigail is?"

"What did you do?"

"Do you know where my daughter is?"

"Hannibal-"

"William."

"She's fine."

"Is she with you?"

"I've been told not to elaborate."

"Is she with you, Will?"

"What did you do?"

"I did nothing." the words were quietly seethed down the receiver. Will felt the back of his neck prickle, like the cannibal was there in spirit, breathing on him, inhaling his responses as they were given. "Have you been neglecting my calls because she asked it of you?"

"No." Will decided the truth was the best way to go, especially since he had no intention of giving the Doctor what he wanted. "I was in a meeting. I'm at work."

There was a small pause.

"She isn't with you."

"No."

"But you know where?"

"Yes."

"Tell me where she is."

Now being spoken to like a stubborn child not eating his vegetables, Hannibal's voice had dropped a pitch, and Will didn't need his empathy to sense he was rapidly losing patience. He imagined Hannibal's rage was physically, very still.

"I don't think that's a good idea." he replied firmly. "If you're in this mood-"

"I am in no mood."

"Really?" he could feel his brows raising. He was skipping out to his car, digging in his pocket for his keys. He'd told Jack he was going to the bathroom. "Where are you now, exactly?"

He heard the knife sinking into it's sheath, the loud snap of a lid being shut hard. Will had discovered the trove of various killing and filleting implements by Hannibal's design, one day after he'd solved a crime he'd been sure Hannibal had not been a part of.

The killer had confessed and had the right M.O - but one murder with his signature did feel a little off. He had only put the case of murderous tools back where he found it and walked out of the house without saying goodbye to either of them.

"Are you going to tell me what you to have been fighting about or do I get the story from her?"

"Goodbye, William."

Oh, he was in trouble, if he was being called by his first name.

He drove quickly, breaking a few laws, willing to flash his badge and spin a few lies at a cop were he pulled over. He kept an eye on the incoming calls - all from Jack. He didn't know how long it'd take Hannibal to piece together where Abigail was, so he was outrightly relieved to find her in a puppy pile on the floor.

She was one of his pack - they all adored her, looked after her the same way they did their own breed. She was teary eyed but not crying, hands petting his littlest dog rhythmically. Winston had plopped her head down on Abigail's knee and wagged her tail as Will walked in, but didn't get up. The pack did, swarming him briefly, before circling around the teen with new found excitement.

He could almost hear them.

Look what we found! Look, look what we've been doing while you've been gone! Abigail's here! We've been snoozing with Abigail, daddy! We're smiling because the pack is home now, all of us are together again, look, look!

"Hi." she rubbed Winston's head, not bothering to get up.

"Hey." he sort of, parted the rag-tag mutts as best he could and sat beside her, peering at her from under his glasses. "You okay?"

"No." she didn't look it, either. She was in ripped clothes and there was a faint blue bruise on her cheekbone, one he hadn't seen earlier from the angle he was on.

"Jesus, Abigail-" he lifted his hand to inspect the swelling but she ducked away from it, maintaining a steady eye contact. "Did- Did Lecter, do this?"

"No."

The dogs sensed his anxiety and crowded. He tsk tsk'd them until they all stopped trying to absorb his face with their tongues, trotting off with noses to the floor, burying heads under their respective pillows and tucking into each other for comfort. Winston didn't move, and petulantly stared at him to remind him that she was beyond his command.

"What happened?"

"Did he call?"

"Don't start answering my questions with questions, Abigail." he said testily.

"Because that's what he does?"

"You know damn well he does."

She nodded, swallowing slightly.

"Sorry." the tears in her eyes seemed to fill a little bit more. "I get wrapped up in him."

"I know." he didn't know what had happened, and every time he saw that bruise a wave of nausea rolled over him. "Abigail, please tell me what happened."

She pushed her lips together in a physical effort not to say. She started to tremble, a crease between her eyes, and a flush over her cheeks. It broke his heart to see her so torn up.

"Not yet." she whispered, and glanced at the door, dislodging a tear that tracked over the bruise. "Do you think he's coming?"

"I'm surprised he isn't here already." he got to his feet, stepping over various dogs on his way to his dresser. "What have you got on you?"

"My... bus card... My phone. He's called..." the phone was flashing another silenced call as she looked to confirm. "At least, fifty times."

"Is he worried?"

"I... don't think so."

"Hmm." he snatched up a bag. "Good thing you've got some clothes here. We're going on a trip, okay? Just a weekend, you and me."

"He's gonna find us, Will."

"No he won't. And even if he figures out where we are-" he had literally shoved a bunch of his clothes into the bag without bothering to look at what they were, and motioned for her to hand him the phone. "-He won't come. Pack what you like to wear."

She stared at his outstretched hand for a long second before handing him the phone with a wince. He saw that between the loosely hanging material of her torn shirt, her skin was discolored there, too.

"Dr. Lecter. She's with me now."

"Where are you?"

"I'm not telling you where we are, or where we are going, so don't ask." he stepped outside, pulling the door shut behind him. "Why is my daughter in ripped clothes and covered in bruises?"

There was a long pause.

"...Bruises?" Will could barely hear him.

"Yeah. Her shirt is torn and she's got a bruise on her ribcage, and her face." his tone was dark. "That's just from what I've seen. She had a hard enough time getting to her feet. I don't know what's happened, but when I find out-"

"Are you implying I've hurt my daughter, Will?" it was said just a little too gently for it to be considered kind. The veiled threat of violence was very, very thin, a warning, more than anything.

"You won't tell me what happened." A beat. "Have you?"

"I will see you after the weekend is done." Will did not like the sound of monday at all. "Give my love to Abigail."

"Sure I will." He wouldn't. He hung up before he could say anything he might regret, then he dug out his own phone and called Jack. "I'll be back on monday."

"I leave you alone for five minutes and you walk off the property?" there was a tired humour to Jack's tone. The murderer was caught and he was due at a debriefing, but because he was a 'special' agent, he was entitled to 'special' perks. Like dodging the meetings and debriefings.

"Could you kindly explain what is going on?"

Will pushed open the door to see the Abigail was pulling on a t-shirt, only half done dressing. Her spine was a mess of mottled bruises, bright and shiny and new in the shape of boots. There was a long red stripe of carpet burn over one shoulder and on her hip, and bruises like hands on the back of her upper arm.

"Something more important has come up." he said, and promptly turned both phones off. Abigail startled and shoved her shirt down, wincing as she wound arms around her stomach and turned to stare at him. Tears were tipping from her lashes but her expression was as a deer in the headlights.

"We're going. Hannibal is fine."

"Where are we going?" she held out her hand for the phone, but he did not give it to her. This visibly upset her more, but she didn't protest. He could hardly stand the look on her face. He steered her into a hug, careful of the pressure he applied to her person. She immediately returned it, rubbing the wetness off her face, and onto his shirt.

"I love you, Abigail." he said, and kissed the top of her head.

"Love you too." she was shaking. The dogs didn't like it.

"I'll be two seconds." he told her, and released from the hug. "Get in the car."

They'd gone up to a cabin in the woods. Having had several notable experiences with cabins in the woods (none of them good), Abigail just about outrightly refused to get out of the car. She nearly asked Will to take her back to his home.

But then Will opened the door and a warm light spilled out of it, and she had the distinct impression that she may have at least one good wood-cabin experience by monday.

The dogs galloped out of the vehicle and went about marking their territories on trees, bounding around the large space with reserves of energy earned in the long drive. Winston snapped at a moth the size of a fist and Abigail skipped towards the house, prompting two dogs to break from the pack and follow at her heels, pink tongues lolling.

"My dad bought a lot of this land when I was a kid." Will muttered as she walked in, offering her the bag of packed clothes. "There's a house not too far away that has owners we were friendly with, and they keep it aired out and bug-free for when I come up, so I give them whatever fish I catch when I use their lake. I sold it off in chunks, the land, but this is mine... what's left of it, anyway."

"What's left of the property, or of your father?"

He stared at her for a long minute, then cupped her face and kissed her forehead.

"Aren't you just a little Lecter?" he mused, and rubbed her shoulder carefully. "Go get in your jammies. I'll feed the pack and be in in a minute, okay? Bedroom's in there. Bathroom's attached."

Abigail sort of, nodded, and winced, forgetting her aching body as she took a normal step towards the door. Will flinched as if he felt it, and turned his eyes away. She dumped the bag on the floor of the room and dug out her cloud pajama bottoms, navigating her legs into them slowly. Winston stiffed at a bloody scab on her knee, and keened slightly.

"Don't you start. I get enough of that from everyone else. You're supposed to be my friend."

Winston beat her tail on the floor, making sad noises like talking.

"I'm not telling. Sorry. I'm not ready." The tank top that matched the bottoms was not going to cover the rainbow on her upper body. Without thinking much of it she pulled it on, followed by one of Will's significantly larger, long sleeved shirts. "There. Now it's all gone, right? All better, see? Nothing's wrong, quit pouting at me."

"I'll keep that in mind." Will was very amused (if not still slightly concerned), and whistled for Winston to go and eat with the rest of the strays. The dog looked at him, back to her, and then to the food bowl line up in the lounge, of which she was missing out on.

"You're gonna go hungry." Abigail told her. Winston got up and circled around to her other side, tucking her nose under the hem of the too-long pants. "Winnie, go have your dinner."

"Winnie?" He cocked a brow at the nick name but the dog reluctantly rose onto all fours and huffed on her way out. She made at scoffing her food with more gusto than usual, but she watched them.

"You called a girl dog a boy's name. It suits her better." Abigail told him patiently, and turned to the bed. She lifted the thin bug netting draped over the clean, coffee coloured bed spread, and climbed under the blankets while Will shucked his jeans and pulled on shorts, tugging his sweater over his head. There was a moment when he fussed around in the bag shirtless, brow drawn in confusion.

"Uh, dad?"

"Hmm?" She lifted her sleeved shirt. He couldn't very well wear it if she was. "Ah. That explains it." he stood and took his glasses off, setting them on the nightstand before opening one of the draws and pulling out another long sleeved shirt.

"That's not gonna fit you." she said, rather amused.

"I haven't put on weight since college." he retorted playfully, and struggled the shirt over his ribcage. "Of course - it'll - fit-"

"We can swap, you know."

"She tells me now." he had to then struggle out of the shirt, while she ducked under the covers and wrestled hers off underneath. She reached out to hand it over and while he took the shirt, he also took her hand and turned her arm around so he could see the bruises there.

His eyes were very, very blue.

"No." she said quietly. "Not yet."

"I'm worried."

"I know. I'm sorry." she took the shirt and pulled it on, face contorted as a muscle spasmed in her side.

"Don't be sorry." He watched her before dressing himself, a frown on his mouth. He went and locked the front door and the windows, put the heater on for the dogs and shoo'd Winston back out into the lounge, shutting the door between them. Then he lifted the bug netting and climbed into bed with her, clicking off the lamp behind him.

"Abigail, tell me who hurt you like that."

She curved her spine and he heard it click. Her hand reached back and found his stomach, then his arm. She pulled it over her hip like a blanket, coaxing him into spooning her.

"I don't know." she replied quietly, and linked their fingers. "Dad... Can you just hold me, please? I've had a really rough day. I need you to just be here, okay?... Dad, please?"

"Abigail, I'm really worried." he squeezed her fingers. "If Lecter's hurt you..."

"He hasn't. I promise." her cold feet pressed against his calves. "Please? Dad, I don't wanna talk. I will. Not now. Please just hold me?"

And how could he say no to that?

When he woke up, they were twisted together like someone had tried to wring them dry. Legs were tangled, arms locked around torsos, foreheads touching. Her hair was a frizzy mess, spilling over her shoulder and around her head and over her face.

He blew a strand off the bridge of her nose.

"Your breath is horrific."

"So is yours."

She mumbled something about not wanting to be awake, tucking her face determinedly under his chin. Her breaths were uncomfortably hot against his throat, but he didn't like when the heat went away and he was left decidedly cold in her wake.

"I need to know what happened." he reminded her carefully.

"What time is it?"

"Early."

"But how early?"

"Too early."

"Daaaaad-"

"Five oh three." he kissed her temple, smoothed her hair back over her head. "What happened, Abigail?"

"Got into a fight." she huffed and snuggled closer to him still.

"With who?"

"Dad."

"So it was him?"

"No. He didn't hit me. We had a... Disagreement." he heard her swallow. "I wanted to use the money my other parents left me and go to college in Australia for a few years."

He thought about that.

"So people would forget your name?"

"Forget my face. Australia's like... the ass end of nowhere. And one of my friends came from there and then she moved back and we've stayed in touch... She's awesome. You would like her."

"But Lecter wouldn't?"

"Doesn't."

He waited a beat.

"Were you gonna tell me?"

"Yes." her arms tightened on him. "But I'm not going any more."

"Because of him?"

"Mm." she inhaled and held the breath in her lungs. "I can't tell you what we said for sure but... it came out like he loved us both and would do anything to keep us around. And then he got that look on his face... And I left. He was either scared or embarrassed because he pretty much shouted at me."

"He's a psychopath, Abigail, he can't love." he said gently. "He's incapable of it."

"Yeah, that's why we need you." she reminded him, and a jolt like lightning rocketed through his heart. "I'm equal parts both of you... He gets parts of me you don't want to know about."

"Don't say-"

"But you get parts of me he can't. He can't have them." she wriggled until she could see his face. The bruise on her cheek was very purple, red at the centre in a shape like broken glass. Will could feel the stirring of tears behind his eyes when his first instinct was to get Hannibal to look at it. He thought it might be fractured, didn't know what to do with it.

"I could live with him but we both need you to be-... balanced. I could leave him and live with you and never see him again and we'd be fine. We get along. You understand everything I'm going through or could possibly go through."

Her tiny, bruised hand came out to press over where his heart was hammering.

"But he and I can't run away together, Will. You're absolutely necessary for us to be a family."

The weight of her words settled over him like lead. He felt condemned - loved - needed - disgusted. He was the thing keeping his girl in the home of a mass murdering cannibal. It was his fault. It was all his fault.

"We could run away?" he murmured. "You and I?"

"He'd come for us." she told him gently.

"Let him come." he retorted. "I'll kill him."

"Another one of my fathers, Will?" the words sliced through him like a knife. He shut his eyes and tried to keep Garret Jacob Hobbs from appearing in the place where his daughter now lay. "You'd be going two for three if you did."

"Don't say that."

"It's true. He might not be capable of love, but I am and I need him in my life. I need to understand the dark parts of me. And I need him to help me get away with it."

"I could do that." he whispered, and she hushed him, patted his chest. He felt dirty for even suggesting it, for even letting the thought venture past his brain-to-mouth filter. But he still did it. "I could, Abigail. I would."

"Not without ruining the parts of you I need." she tapped her fingers on his chest. "He's got the shadows, Will, but you don't."

"I do so."

"Not like him. Not like me." his eyes opened and she was staring at him with soft firmness in her eyes. "You're not like us. You think like us, but it isn't you."

"You've been listening to your father's therapy." he accused with a twitchy smile.

"I keep an eye on things when you're out of the house." she rolled her eyes. "And when you're in it, sometimes, because you two are a timebomb, let's be honest."

He tried to suppress a smile, but he couldn't help but feel better that she was aware. He'd thought maybe Hannibal had his teeth into her, and hand at her spine to puppeteer her, and was throwing his voice to make her say things he wanted her to say, but Abigail was not so easily controlled.

"I like it when you smile." she told him fondly, and cracked one of her own. She winced from the swollen cheek and his smile all but puffed away in a swirl of dust.

"Tell me how you got..."

"All beat up?"

He put his finger tip above the swollen blue expanse of her cheekbone, his eyes tracing the first like imprint.

"Yes."

She retreated back to under his chin, keeping her hand over his heart, fingers digging into his chest to ground the both of them.

"Well... That happened. Dad just... He scared me, and I've never, ever been scared of him like that - like I was scared of my last dad. I left to make it go away. I got a chili dog and sat in a park somewhere... he started calling me and I'd changed his name in my phone to 'dad'... I got upset, because I was thinking about the other dad and then he called and..." she swallowed, tucked her leg more firmly between his. "I went home."

"My house?"

"No. Home."

He'd never heard her call Hannibal's mansion home before.

"You went... to the house where your father-"

"Home." she said again, and her shoulders hunched around her ears. "I went home."

"Abigail..." he kissed her forehead, her available temple, her nose, and held the back of her head as if to hold her closer to him. He sighed sadly against her hair and her fingers pulled more desperately at his heart.

"There was a new family in there. These twins - they were only like, fifteen, but bigger'n me-" she was muffled against his shoulder but he wouldn't let her go, and she was clinging to him. "-they recognised my face - their mother was asleep upstairs and they pushed me into the house - started to shove me around and ask about - my other dad - I punched him - I bit them - kicked him really hard in the balls and they hit me back... Then they just kept hitting. They got a t-... A taste for it."

"Abigail." he said her name like a mantra, in the event she got lost in her own head and needed to find her way back out again. "Shh, shh, it's alright."

"I bit all the inside of m-my mouth - I was spitting b-blood at them both - they tr-tried to m-ake m-me sc-re-eam-!" her voice was pitching higher and higher in her anger and fear.

"Shh, it's alright, it's alright."

"They tr-ied to get m-my jeans op-pen-! Ripped m-my favourite sh-shirt-!"

His heart froze, but he never once stopped comforting her.

"I'm here. I'm here with you now. You're safe."

"I- bit them b-both - smashed a vase on his head - got-t on a -bus - tried to find you -!"

She succumbed to sobs; Winston tore at the door, trying to get in. Then the entire pack was howling with her, crying for her, confused and sad for her. That was why he loved dogs. They felt everything so acutely, so in tune with the ones they loved, they could sense it, like he could.

Then Winston hefted her entire weight up and down on the handle, and the pack bounded in, jumping up on the bed to surround them with furry hugs and wet noses. He had to navigate the bug netting for them so they didn't outrightly pull it out of the roof, and by the time he'd turned to settle back and comfort her, Winston was in his place, licking the salt from her cheeks. The big dogs settled around her back and along the length of her legs; the others clamoured at her front and hair, sniffing, wining-

What's wrong, Daddy? What's wrong with Abigail? Why is she sad? Is she hurt? Is she hungry? Did you feed her today? What's wrong with Abigail, Daddy? Can we help? Is she lonely? Here, let me get that for you. I'm sad, daddy, can you fix it?

"She'll be okay." he told them all, and some of the crying stopped. Abigail was embracing Winston, hugging the dog who was still keening for her, trying to inspect her face. The other dogs looked at him, perplexed, cocked heads and floppy ears. Not a single tail wagged. "It's alright. Daddy will take care of it. I'll be back in just a second."

He turned his phone on; had three missed calls from Alana Bloom he ignored.

"Hannibal. It's me."

"Yes, I saw that."

"Were you awake?"

"I am now." Will could almost feel the study being conducted by the doctor as he slammed the front door behind him. "Is everything quite all right, Will?"

"It will be. You're gonna have a fridge full by the time you're done." he said dryly. "Twins."

"Twins?" Will could hear him sitting up in bed, instantly more alert. "Do tell me more."

Briefly, he did.

"They kicked into her, dragged her over the carpet." he was shaking, he was so angry. "They ripped her shirt, tried to get her jeans open, Hannibal."

"I see." it was very softly seethed down the line. "You said 'tried'? They never...?"

"She got away." he exhaled, held his head in his hand. "Hit them. Kicked them. Bit them."

"Excellent. Yes. Good." he didn't sound pleased as Will thought it would make him. He imagined Hannibal was still moody from revealing his feelings to Abigail the day before. "How do you feel about coming to my house for dinner on monday, Will?"

"I'm looking forward to it." he retorted through his teeth. "Hannibal?"

"Yes, Will?" he knew the doctor was plotting. He knew he was going to detract attention from the fact that Abigail Hobbs had been at the home days before it's two new residents died. He had the upmost faith in the doctor's abilities to cover their daughter, and his own to cut any loose threads he might make in his haste.

"For good measure, I'm fairly certain they've fractured her cheekbone."

There was a dangerous pause.

"Cheeks are the tenderest part of a fish. You must know that, of course."

"Actually," was Will's dry reply. "That's why I mentioned it. Looking forward to dinner, Hannibal."

"Likewise, my good Will. Give my love to Abigail."

"Sure I will."

This time, he did.