sixteen ♢ spam & voice

[versusnurture]

infirmary spam } after mirror barge

[Dying the second time . . . honestly, it wasn't as bad. This feels like a strange thing to think, but it's most of what she thinks in those days of the death toll that feel like death isn't quite over yet.]

[The difference is, her first death, her real one, was intimate. This was a mercy, sort of, and she doesn't totally regret it, but it wasn't. It wasn't.]

[The same.]

[It wasn't family.]

[She lies back in the infirmary bed and stares at the ceiling with a soft smile. It's very impersonal here, but that's a relief in its own way, too. She's not the only person who died, not by a long shot. She's not the person most choose to focus their attentions on.]

[She can just rest.]

spam } blight

[It's a few days after everything clicks back into shape that Abigail works up the energy needed for speech. She doesn't go back to her cabin, although she sort of wants to. There are pros and cons to everything, she thinks, and the pros of staying in the infirmary outweigh the cons by far.]

[Blight is here, for example. She can see him from across the room. His presence makes her feel safe, in a backwards way, simply because she knows he isn't what he was. He will not protect her, but he will be reeling as much as anyone else. Maybe more. He doesn't seem like a man who likes to lose control.]

[One more day, and she hoists herself up out of the bed and makes her way over to his. A soft, quick smile - an exhausted one.]

Who got you?

spam } hannibal

[She knows he isn't welcome in the infirmary. That's part of the reason she stayed. But halfway through her stay, she did begin to regret it. Because . . .]

[This death lacked intimacy. That's one reason. No one sang her songs. No one told her everything was going to be all right. No one apologized. There was no sense of closure.]

[And because he frightens her at the same time he comforts her. Because the uncertainty and insecurity of her relationship with Hannibal Lecter is secured with a love that doesn't seem to die.]

[When she is well enough to walk, she walks to his cabin, and she knocks on his door.]

inmate filter } minus hannibal

I know a lot of people who are here being - punished, or whatever - they've killed people.

How many of you hunted them?

private } ceres

I'm interested in your answer especially.

Comments

[versusnurture]

[When she wakes, it's to the smell of dog. Good dog smell, at least - Digby is clean. But she can tell it's him by the faint outline of a tail wagging over the edge of the bed and the vaguest smell of flour.]

[She blinks, trying to clear her head, and peers around.]

Ned?

[deadly_ned]

[Digby, at Abigail's stirring, promptly wanders over to the side of the bed to press his nose against her forearm, snuffling.

The Piemaker turns at the sound of his name, in the middle of leaving a get-well-soon basket]

Abigail. Hi.

[versusnurture]

[Digby's wet nose reminds her of Winston's wet nose, which reminds her of Alana, who reminds her of Will, who reminds her of Hannibal, who reminds her of herself. She squints at Ned and pats Digby's head at an awkward angle.]

What're you - doing? Do I get one?

[deadly_ned]

[For Ned, the track of all his thoughts diverting to Hannibal is much shorter. The man feeds and looks after his dog, after all, despite the Piemaker's attempts to keep the two apart]

This one is yours.

[He places it at the foot of Abigail's bed, frowning down at it]

Ideally it would be a little bigger. With a pineapple.

[versusnurture]

[It makes her beam and wiggle her toes, although both of those things make various parts of her ache.]

It's big enough. If you made it any bigger it'd probably break the bed.

You can bring me a pineapple later, [she adds archly, with the air of one who deserves a pineapple more than anyone else.]

[deadly_ned]

[He pulls up a chair to sit at the foot of her bed, propping his head up on his arms with a grin back]

Pineapple it is. But I might run out: the person in the next bed looks like they could use one and I'd hate to deprive them.

Did you know that almost every other language calls the pineapple 'ananas'? It's only the English who call it what we call it.

[versusnurture]

I could use one more. I bet they don't even know how to cut up a pineapple.

[Abigail knows how to cut up a pineapple. She's damn excellent at it, thank you very much.]

I never really understood why. It looks like a pinecone, but not like an apple.

[deadly_ned]

I bet they don't.

[Something they have in common; pineapple isn't a common fruit in his kitchen, but he's worked with it plenty of times before]

It could be because "pinefruit" didn't sound quite as appealing.

[versusnurture]

Pinefruit sounds gross. But I don't know why, really.

[She scratches Digby behind the ears.]

How many people died, Ned?

[deadly_ned]

It sounds similar to pinecones. Which don't exactly strike me as appetizing.

...I don't know. Not a lot, I think. Not in comparison to others.

[versusnurture]

But crunchy.

You didn't, did you?

[deadly_ned]

Please don't eat pinecones.

No, I didn't. I escaped relatively unscathed.

[versusnurture]

But what if I really want to?

Good. It's about time you got out of something unscathed.

[deadly_ned]

Then I'd have to take you to poison control and I really don't think you want your stomach pumped.

More or less. But I was more...active in my protection of other people.

[versusnurture]

. . . Good. That. Seems good.

It seems like progress.

[It seems like something she could never see herself doing.]

[deadly_ned]

I tried to kill Arthas.

At. Hannibal's insistence.

I've never thought about killing like that before. And I don't think I'd call it progress.

[versusnurture]

Oh. I thought . . .

[She trails off. It doesn't matter what she thought; she was wrong.]

Maybe not, then.

I'm. Sorry.

[deadly_ned]

...It's okay. In all fairness I think Arthas knew he deserved it. And our options seemed painfully limited.

[versusnurture]

They shouldn't be so limited that you have to kill. That's, that's taking the choice away.

It can feel good, you know.

[deadly_ned]

It makes you feel powerful. In control for the first time in your life.