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As the days waned and Will was able to start working on his mobility, Abigail’s spirit seemed to diminish.
She came home from college -she stayed with them instead of on campus, her parents (alive?!) were none the wiser- dumped her bag and headed for the kitchen where she indulged in a PB&J much to Hannibal’s chagrin. She would answer briefly about her day before confining herself to her room until dinner.
It was a Tuesday afternoon when Will heard her pass the library, on the way to her room and called her in. She put her head round the door, questioningly, expecting him to need her to get something that he couldn’t. Will beckoned her in instead, patting the space beside him on the sofa. She obliged.
Will observed the finer details of her face before speaking, “You look older.”
Her eyes darted to the side, unsure, “Thanks?”
“No, I mean,” Will backtracked, “It’s nice…to see you have a life here.”
Abigail nodded slowly, half in agreement.
“Unless you don’t feel the same?”
Abigail turned her head away, considering his empty wheelchair instead of his knowing blue eyes. She sighed heavily. “You remember the memories this body had?”
Will nodded, “Yes, apart from the accident.”
“This Abigail…” She licked her lips, nervously, “She had everything; a normal dad, a normal life, she’s at college.”
“You’re at college, Abigail.”
“Her friends call her Abbie. I never had friends who gave me a nickname.” She picked at the skin around the nail of her index finger. “And I saw Elise Nichols on campus.”
Will’s mouth opened around an ‘oh’.
“She’s great, really sweet, everyone loves her, and they should! And I killed her…Last time, I mean. Helped to kill her.”
“I’m thinking of prescribing you anti-depressants,” Hannibal announced from the door where he’d been standing for longer than he should have been without their knowledge.
Abigail’s face twitched with quiet outrage as she looked to the intruder and stood up, breathing shakily out of her nose in Hannibal’s direction. She reminded Will of a bull about to charge.
“Hannibal,” he began, but Abigail walked towards Hannibal, and attempted to push him out the way.
She’d forgotten who he was for a moment and realised again when the muscled mass of his body didn’t budge at all. Hannibal was all confrontation and no escape.
He blinked at her and tilted his head, calculating her next move. She felt like a child; small, unhelpful and angry.
“Hannibal,” Will looked at him seriously, “Get out. Abigail, help me into my chair.”
___________________________________________
Their house was at the top of a hill. Will gestured for Abigail to sit on the bench that overlooked the view of the city. She sat at one end of it and he parked his chair next to her. They sat quietly for a moment, both looking out over the distant hustle and bustle.
“Over there,” Will pointed away from them, “is Quantico…And over there,” he pointed away from it, “is Wolftrap.”
“Do you think Jack and Alana still work there?” Abigail asked.
Will shrugged. “Jack? Probably. He has a will bigger than Hannibal’s pantry, no matter what dimension.”
Abigail smiled.
“Maybe you should change your course?” Will suggested. “Or drop out?”
Abigail’s eyes widened, “Drop out?” She repeated. “I can’t do that!”
“You’re only in your first year,” Will pointed out, “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. But you do have to do something.”
His thoughts briefly strayed to the picture of her with her dad; happy, smiling, a full life ahead of her. He wondered if that girl had ever really existed. “What would make you happy?”
She frowned at the vista before them. “Helping people.”
“Helping people is not all it’s cracked up to be,” Will sighed.
She regarded him, “Wasn’t that Hannibal’s fault?”
Will agreed with a tilt of the head.
“He annoys me,” she continued, “with how happy he is here.”
Will smirked, “Hannibal can be happy anywhere, he’s so wrapped up in himself that he can indulge that anytime, any place.”
Abigail hummed, understanding but not always understanding the material necessity, “He has silk napkins,” she pointed out.
“And underwear,” Will retorted.
Abigail made a face of disgust. “Are we supposed to indulge ourselves here?”
Will didn’t like it anymore than she did. They both harboured a gluttony for punishment. “I guess.” He looked back over the vista before them. “Do I really look that bad?”
Abigail quickly glanced at him and pressed her lips together.
“A face only a mother could love?” Will asked, humour in his voice.
“A face only a Hannibal could love,” she countered devilishly.
Will frowned again.
Abruptly deciding, she announced, “I think I want to help kids.”
“Good choice.”
________________________________________
Will watched as Hannibal chopped vegetables. He would offer to help, just as something to focus on but the height of the counters to his wheelchair was a problem.
He was worried he would have the same problem as Abigail had. Right now, he was all consumed with the need to physically recover from his accident. It affected every part of his living. But what would happen when it didn’t?
“You look like you’re thinking too hard, Will.”
Will looked up and Hannibal smiled before returning to his chopping.
“I think I might have the same problem as Abigail,” Will confessed.
“Feeling out of place?”
“Somewhat.”
Hannibal pondered as he took the seeded core out of a red pepper. He had brought them here to this blank slate of a life and neither of them could seem to put anything on the chalkboard. He was slightly put out that his effort to make this happen hadn’t inspired and thrilled them.
“Start small, Will. Wouldn’t you like to acquire a canine?” Hannibal suggested. “A service dog would help you become more independent.”
“I don’t need a service dog.”
Hannibal looked at him.
Will protested, “I won’t be immobile long enough for that to be worth it! Just a dog from the shelter is fine.”
“Remember what your doctor said, you may never regain full mobility.”
“You just don’t want me on a motorcycle again!” Will accused, petulantly. “And I haven’t actually been on one, maybe I want to see what all the fuss is about.”
“Maybe you could volunteer at the local shelter?”
It was a perfectly good suggestion and Will would be happy to but he was unhappy because Hannibal had suggested it. Now it was the last thing he wanted to do.
Hannibal came round the counter, still enamoured by his struggling Will, despite how disagreeable he was being. He gently tilted his face up by his chin. He looked over the unfamiliar swelling and bruising of his face; his broken nose put back in place, the countless stitches and (hopefully) temporary disfigurement. Will’s eyes were still the same; sorrowful and yearning.
Hannibal moved his hand to cup Will’s cheek. “You qualify for a service dog. I would also like to leave the house more often, and without worrying about you. Please think about it, Will.”
Will blinked his frown away and leaned into Hannibal’s touch.
Hannibal sighed and leaned down, pressing his lips to Will’s hairline in a soft kiss. “You and Abigail share the same terrible ‘puppy-dog’ expression. I would give you anything you wanted,” he admitted, murmuring into Will’s curls.
_________________________________________
After Will’s next doctor’s appointment, Hannibal had a chairlift installed in the house. His disability was proving permanent and his legs would simply not do what he wanted, despite Hannibal paying for the top physical therapist to work with him. Some things just couldn’t be fixed.
Will could also no longer deal with the attention and supposed affection that came with Hannibal having to carry him up and down the stairs.
There were other adjustments made to the house and while they were all necessary, Will couldn’t help but feel guilty about Hannibal spending all this money and going through the tiring process of hiring contractors. He felt like a demon child, a shameful thing hidden away in the shadows when the men came to install ramps at the outside doors and handrails nearly everywhere. He was jovial enough when it came time to pay and thank them for the work they’d done, of course Hannibal oversaw everything. But embarrassingly, adjustments had to be made to the bathrooms too and Will definitely kept to himself on those days.
It was difficult for him, these unforeseen changes and attention. Whoever he was before in this life had got him into this mess and now he had to deal with the repercussions. It wasn’t fair, and Will felt even more like a helpless child when he thought about it.
He guessed that it was just as well that Hannibal had started the application for Will to get a service dog before the conversation in the kitchen so getting paired up was a fairly quick process for Will. They met up with the trainers at the centre and were taken to a brightly lit room, neutral, Will supposed.
This time, Hannibal took a step back and let Will commandeer the situation. The trainers went over Will’s needs and what they thought would be best for him in a service dog. Hannibal had previously decided that he wouldn’t spare them their lives if they didn’t treat Will like the competent adult that he was. Ableism was the new focus of rudeness that Hannibal observed far too often in this new life, but of course, these people knew what they were doing. His first kill here would have to wait.
Hannibal visibly stepped back and waved them away when they brought Winnie in to meet them. “She will be Will’s companion if he so chooses,” he explained warmly, “It’s all up to him.”
Will had smiled at him in reply before his attention moved to the dog.
Winnie was a very affectionate Golden Retriever who Will took to immediately. Hannibal wasn’t surprised, especially when she wagged her tail and pressed her nose to his hand to get Will to pet her, which of course, Will happily obliged.
Once sufficiently acquainted, the trainers demonstrated how Winnie could help Will; she could pick things up off the floor that Will couldn’t reach, she could open doors, bring Will things (in this case, a stuffed lamb toy), take shoes and socks off, as well as help with the removal of trousers -which they didn't demonstrate, just explained. And much to Hannibal’s surprise, they were told she could load the laundry in and out of the machine.
Will had chuckled and said very pointedly, “She won’t need to do that,” and looked at Hannibal, amusement in his eyes.
It was quickly apparent to everyone in the room that Will was besotted with the dog, and the dog went to him immediately for praise and affection when she finished each task. It was a match made in heaven.
They signed the papers, took information packs and arranged for Winnie to visit the house. It was pretty much a done deal and in the car on the way home, Will recounted nearly everything that happened twice.
Hannibal couldn’t help the bubble of happiness that welled up in him as Will nattered away in the passenger seat. He had finally put something on the chalkboard.