nineteen ♢ video

[versusnurture]

[When the feed comes on, the first thing there is is a wall and half of a desk. Those people on board who've been inside will know it as Abigail's room. There's a small blood smear on the edge of the desk, another dark spot on the corner of the lens.]

[She doesn't turn it towards herself, but the camera does move towards the desk, is set down at the edge of it. Two hands appear in the frame, blood-caked, palm-up. There's blood under her nails, too, drier blood that's oxidized to a deep, almost black color.]

[She doesn't say anything. But after a moment, there's a strangled noise, and she knocks the camera off the desk. The briefest flash of dark hair and a pale face; then it hits the floor and shuts off.]

Comments

[versusnurture]

You.

[Her answer is instant. Him. Ben is what makes her feel safest. His being here, his warmth, even the file tucked under his arm. She trusts him, but that's not enough; she trusts things she shouldn't trust all the time. More than that, she knows on a level logical, emotional, and soul-deep that he is worthy of her trust.]

[If he leaves, she doesn't know what's going to happen.]

[Her hands clench tight on each other, her knuckles going white.]

It's not . . . [Whispers, barely audible.] It's not vague, o-or illogical. It's just.

Not a thing. It's just you.

[warisart]

[Her answer is the final twist of that knife - its name is hope, and its name is love - that pops a part of his armor loose. She doesn't need to speak any more loudly than she already is for him to hear her, and she wouldn't need to speak at all for him to hear that.

The problem is, until she said it aloud, he wasn't sure he wasn't only seeing what he wanted to see. His voice lowers to match hers, but not a whisper, not insubstantial. Steady. A promise.]

I am here. N'est-ce pas?

[versusnurture]

[Something changes between them, something in the air. Something in the way he is looking at her, as though he's let out a breath. Tears start in the corner of her eyes when he speaks, when he matches her, when he says he is here.]

[Did he ever really leave?]

Oui, tu est ici.

[Her voice crackles like plaster, her fingers still twisting together.]

J'ai confiance en toi, Ben. I remember - everything you taught me.

I still love you.

[warisart]

[Ben never left. Abigail did - or, more likely, she was taken. She went somewhere he couldn't follow her, though he would have tried, eventually. He likes to think he would have tried, except for the fear that he would be singularly unhelpful where she came from.

She speaks French back to him, exactly as he remembers, and he really does let out a breath. Something behind his eyes warms, not because it only just now came into being, but because he relaxes infinitesimally. It is a little bit safer, for them both.

Some of the rigid formality has worn off the edge of his voice, too, when he speaks - still low, still steady, but with more presence.]

Abigail, are you familiar with the common method for monitoring the spread of poison, or centralized external infection, in carbon-based life forms?

[versusnurture]

[She cocks her head at him, watching as he relaxes by minute increments. A tear falls, just one onto the back of her hand, and then she blinks them furiously away. He's asking her a question, posing her a question, and she wants to understand why.]

Poison.

No. I never learned that. Tell me?

[She leans forward, her hair falling over her shoulders as she listens intently. He is more here, and she thinks maybe she is too - with every step he takes towards her, she takes another, tentative one towards him.]

[warisart]

[He notes the tear, but more than that the reaction to it. She is here. She is paying attention. She is still, after all, Abigail and he still believes in that whole heartedly.

He doesn't think he'll ever stop. Certainly not willingly.]

When it is discovered that a contact poison has been introduced, the first course of action is to use a marker or something similar to trace the outer edge of its area of effect, the boundary between poisoned tissue and healthy tissue. Treatment begins immediately, but with regular pauses to check the line, to draw a new one if the poison continues to spread.

There must be a concrete assessment of how severe the effects are, so that the efficacy of treatment can be monitored as well, and so that anyone administering them can know when the poison is approaching something of vital importance. Otherwise, it's only guesswork.

[He speaks quietly but with confidence, eyes steady, unwavering in his crouch except where he digs, just once, at the skin at the base of his thumbnail with the fingers of the opposite hand.]

We must map the boundaries, Abigail. It will take time, but it is entirely viable.

[versusnurture]

[Now she understands. She is poisoned. Hannibal has poisoned her. In a way, this offends her; her brows draw together in consternation, and she shifts her weight, thinking, thinking. It's not wrong, but neither is it right. She loves - she hates - but if she was poisoned then it's poison she deserved, or poison she had no choice but to swallow. Poison she put into her own mouth.]

[Still, it's good, thinking of it like this. Thinking of it like something that can advance without placing her at fault. She reels at Ben a little, the way he talks, the gestures he makes, the curious credit he's willing to give her that Hannibal never did. That her father never did.]

[Ben is not her father. Ben is her warden. Ben is her friend. She loves him. She shouldn't feel conflicted about this at all.]

[She feels very conflicted.]

I believe you. [She thinks she must have said this already.] I believe . . .

I believe it'll take a lot of time.

[warisart]

[The bare bones of this, Ben understands; he understands the ingrained loyalty to someone or something that, when considered from a step back, has done nothing but use and harm. He understands how that isn't a choice one gets to make.

He understands that it is this that is the real problem, that choosing to be loyal would be its own monster, but that being robbed of that is both difficult to undo and absolutely must be undone.

If Abigail chooses Hannibal of her own free will, without coercion, without pressure, then Ben will not be happy but he will respect her decision. Until then, it is his responsibility to slow, unerringly draw the poison back out to the point at which she can once again be free of its influence.]

It will. And it will take time that many, both intentionally and unintentionally, will not want to give to us.

Thank you for believing me. I can do nothing unless you allow me to.

[versusnurture]

[This also confuses her. There are still things about this place that are fuzzy. She knows there are people who don't believe in shades of gray - who believe in the law, even though here there is no law. People like Jack, who would hunt her down and cause her damage. Maybe. Maybe she's imagining that part.]

[People who don't like her, that's more realistic. But what does he mean by unintentionally?]

[She gives him a wan smile, anyway.]

You could. But it wouldn't be effective.

[He wouldn't, though. She knows that.]

[warisart]

[Ben still remembers clearly the difficulty with people who simply don't understand what it's like to be conditioned to a certain way of thinking. How maybe it's harmful in the long run, obviously so even, but going against it still hurts in a way that can't be described; still makes the act of doing so feel unsafe, wrong. They mean to help, but often they end up causing more damage than they fix, and because they don't understand this they stop trying.

Ben doesn't argue. He wouldn't. Not willingly, not knowingly, not intentionally. Instead he nods.]

Do you require anything at this time, Abigail?

[versusnurture]

Nothing.

[She casts her eyes down and away. She doesn't want or need anything. There's nothing that can be given to her to make her better, no panacea. There's only time. In a distant way she knows that; on another level she wants to give him something to do. Something so that he'll feel active.]

[All she can do is not start crying again.]

I just . . . need to sleep.

[warisart]

[If it's all she can give him, he'll take it. If it's all he can give her, it's freely that he'll do so. That doesn't mean it's not frustrating.

It's not, however, her fault. This is his job. Ben drops his chin ever so slightly in a small nod.]

Then I will make certain you are not disturbed.

I... am glad to see you again, Abigail.