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[versusnurture]

Whoever's out there: I want to talk to you.

[And she does mean everyone. People she loved, people she hated, people who were meaningless to her, people whose names she never knew but who knew hers, the dead (by her hands or Garret's or Hannibal's - whoever is out there.]

[She's starved for information.]

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vidya

[designates]

[ he'd flinch, he really would. but this isn't the same Will Graham she left behind in the Shrike's Nest. this is a different Will, a different man and he's not about to avert his eyes from her, let alone from the screen. ]

You lied to me. You lied to all of us.

[ yea gurl he mad ]

vidya

[versusnurture]

I lie to everyone. I did what I had to do!

[Her scarf is off; she fingers the violent line of her scar like a nervous tic, her eyes narrowed, her throat thick.]

And then it didn't matter anyway.

You know why I'm dead, don't you?

vidya foreva

[designates]

If you had to do it, it would have mattered.

[ take a deep breath, Will, take a deep breath and close your eyes and calm. down. because snarling at a little girl, no matter how conniving, or how corrupted, won't change anything. especially not a figment of his imagination. it won't get better. it's his chance to make peace and he's using it to make pieces.

he opens his eyes and swallows. ]

Him. You're dead because of him. And-- [ his breath catches in his throat: ] me. Because I didn't see. Couldn't see. Couldn't see the wolf in sheep's clothing, or the bear stalking in the shadows of the trees.

[versusnurture]

[And he's right. If she'd had to do it - truly had to, the way other people she's met here had to do things to survive - it wouldn't have ended up like it did. It would have been more, or less, or something. She would have been smarter.]

[She would have won.]

[Her lips are tight, thin, white.]

He killed me for you. I know he did. He sang to me while I bled out. He was kind to me. And I died, for you. To make you seem cr-- [A ripple of laughter.] crazy.

[Do you feel crazy, Will?]

[designates]

[ no no no. no. no. he can't empathise with her. shouldn't empathise with her. he should pull away and shut this feed off and close his eyes and wait to wake up in his cell and tune all this out and forget. wash away the lull of dreams and return to routine. pretend this never happened. harden himself and tell her she deserved it.

but she didn't.

and he can't. ]

It--... [ a shaky breath, and all the anger, and all that vitriol; it's gone. replaced with the Will Graham she once knew and turned away, and finally, he breaks eye contact with the image on his screen, and mumbles: ] it worked.

[ no. he just feels bad. ]

[versusnurture]

[Oh, no. No no no no, it's all working against her now. It always seems to, these days, she should have known better. She should have just talked, not tried to make him hurt. But she's so angry, and she wanted to see him so badly, to tell him so.]

[That's her friend Will. She's angry, yes. But it hurts to hurt him.]

[She twines her fingers in each other in her lap, agitated, twitchy.]

I don't know what to do, Will. I don't know how to--

[What? Anything? She doesn't know.]

[She should have said. She should have let him help. But none of them saw.]

[designates]

[ he should snap and bark and growl at her, but damn him and damn his soul for being sewn together thread by thread the way it is. when she fidgets, he does too. when she murmurs in desperation, he listens in earnest.

he shouldn't. but he can't help it. it's his dreams guilting him, he's sure of it, but with all his existential enlightenment and reflections, he still feels guilty enough to answer.

despite himself, and despite everything she's done, she never deserved this. she may be a killer, but she's not a monster. he's seen the face of the wretched, and dipped his fingers into the wells of sociopathy; Abigail never swam those waters. she was like him; a victim of circumstance, with a much worse hand to play. ]

It's okay. It's... it's okay, Abigail. [ what's done is done, what's said is said. it's over now. stop struggling; rest. he tries to smile and succeeds only in pretending he's a better dad than Garrett Jacob Hobbs. (is that really competition, though?) ] Talk to me. Tell me what you need.

[ even if she's not real, he wants to listen, wants to know how to put her to rest. wants to fix what he failed, wants to right his wrongs. he will.

and Hannibal? you better watch your fucking back, bruv. ]

[versusnurture]

[Rest. Can she? She wanted to, at first; when she first got here, she just wanted to stay dead. Especially when Hannibal showed up. She thought it would be easier to be dead than to try to fight him.]

[She's right. It would be a lot easier. But she can't die here, and she can't escape him, so her choices are freeze or fight. Which, she realizes abruptly, is more choice than Will has. Will . . . he's got walls, just like her. Bars. Fear. Anger. Hannibal. But he doesn't have anyone to fight by his side.]

[She pulls her shoulders in tight, hunched and small.]

I need to - not belong to anybody anymore. Be nobody's tool.

[After a moment, she mouths: I need to get you out of there. Hannibal is watching. He always is. But this is a truth she's starting to feel in her bones.]