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[Healing comes on her quicker than she had expected. She isn't healed, but healing is happening to her. To her, a process she feels she has no control over. It seems sacrilegious, missing the people she came to see as family less on certain days, more on others. She believes that grief should be a constant stream. She believes it should be as perfect as she can't be.]

[It's on the days that she misses Hannibal the least that she feels the most volatile, that she could hurt someone if they looked at her wrong. It's on those days that she's a little afraid of herself, and a little proud - for still possessing those urges, for not succumbing to them.]

[She hangs around the Enclosure, waiting to be let in, not sure if she'll be trusted with that freedom by anyone but the people who know her, the people she's tricked or the people she's let in. She wants to go hiking. She wants to go hunting. She wants to feel power in her hands or in the churn of her legs over rough terrain.]

[She has no idea what she wants.]

private } ben, backdated pre-breach

We have to talk. About Jerry.

private } admiral

You obviously need some new baking equipment, since you spend so much of your time giving us baked goods. Do something nice for yourself.

For Ceres, pressed rosehips in glass.

For Andrew, a Super 8 camera and playback equipment.

For Arkin, new henleys. An empty photo album, with a lock. A glass figurine of a realistic heart.

For Ben, new clothes, a kind he's never tried before. Maybe button-downs. A copy of Aesop's Fables.

For Luna, glitter paint, fan brushes, a deer mask.

For Gwen, pretty cashmere scarves in pastels.

For Anya, silver hair pins. Sharp ones, shaped like beech leaves.

For Helena, a silver cross pendant.

For Dillon, I want to get him something he can't fix, but I don't know what that is. So warm wool sweaters, red and gray.

For Scott, pictures of his mom. Pictures of Jack. All smiling.

For Arthas, pictures of the people he's lost this year. Even if he doesn't want them.

And for Cambridge, that "from the desk of" stationary, cream-colored, fancy and stiff.

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[Instantly, though Ben is wary. The subject of Jerry was one of their fracture points before, and he still remembers why he wanted her cabin moved in the first place.]

Abigail.

He's made threats against Dillon's friends. I don't know whether to think they're probably nothing or not, because it sounds like he's having a fit, but it's also him.

I don't want to run from this kind of thing anymore, Ben. I want to have a strategy.

...Of course he has.

[But he listens, and is rewarded with faint, distinct relief of hearing that she wants to be deliberate.

This may still turn out poorly for Jerry, but Ben much prefers strategy and logic to unaimed lashing out and the downward spiral of fear.]

I agree that is likely the best course of action. Do you have any preliminary thoughts?

He's only human now. You could break his neck if you had to. [This she says with utter dispassion.] But I don't want you to have to. That shouldn't have to be your responsibility.

I'm armed. But I want a taser, too, and I want to restart self-defense classes. So I can break his neck if somebody needs to.

[Ben does not point out that Jerry would not need to be human for Ben to break his neck if he had to; it's not the point, and he's distracted by the rest of what she has to say.

Because he is who he is, he's able to neatly straddle the line between being displeased that Abigail needs any of this, and understanding completely why it is not only necessary but practical and... pride worthy.]

Do you have someone in mind for the self-defense classes? I will request whatever you would like from the Admiral if I do not have it at my disposal, weapons-wise.

No. No one. I don't trust any of the people who are really well-trained, and I--

[Something occurs to her.]

Barbara. Maybe. Does she teach that? I don't know. If not her, then you have to pick and I'll just trust your recommendation.

I can certainly ask her. She would be a good choice, and useful in many ways supplementary to active self defense if not directly.

I have a few people in mind I might ask otherwise.

[Ben himself is always an option, if all else fails; he doesn't suggest or point this out, either, not the least because he doesn't think the others will refuse. There are still options.]

Okay.

[She settles down now, somewhat, just the knowledge that Ben is working on that comfort for her. Not that she doubted he'd take this seriously; it's just different, imagining it and watching it happen. Watching Ben work is a balm for her nerves. He's so steadfast and serious, and she can't help but love him for it.]

Who are you thinking of?

[Abigail's reaction feeds Ben's, in turn: she relaxes and so he settles to the harness, so to speak, certain that he's on the right path. She is comforted, so now he must simply proceed, which is in turn comforting to him.

Ben likes knowing where true north is, when he can. When he can't, he is no longer completely incapable of making up his own coordinates, but it's far preferable to know that he is going in the correct direction.]

The two best options are not far removed from Barbara: Stephanie Brown is well trained and willing. Cassandra Cain is one of the most capable combatants on board.

[Her father is here, too, but Ben isn't even considering him, for several reasons. If Abigail is going to collect father figures - and she will, just as he once collected authority figures - it won't be Ben that introduces the two of them.

Saying their names aloud settles it for him, however.]

I will ask Cassandra first. Stephanie has not publicly offered to train others.

[The fact that they're both from Gotham settles Abigail's nerves even more. Everything connected to that place is positive for her, even if not completely. She believes that the nature of the city is not far removed from her own nature, that it's complex, multifaceted, dark and dangerous. That there is more to learn from it than to fear from it, but not much more - plenty to fear, after all, in a city so cruel.]

[She feels positively, too, about Ben's ultimate choice, and smiles briefly, faintly. She seems tired, but pleased.]

I talked to Cass. On my first day. Right before I talked to you. She was sweet.

[Too sweet. Too clever. Abigail wants to know more about her.]

[Ben, watching her, nods subtly but decisively.]

She can be. She is also one of the most capable fighters on board the ship.

Anya trusts her. We have not had much cause to speak, but I do, too.

[They are too much the same and yet too different to successfully interact, much. It is that similar background that he also hopes in an obscure, unformed way that he hopes will benefit Abigail in the long run - and perhaps Cass, too.]

Do you require any further security measures in the interim?

[She shakes her head, already feeling more secure in her decisiveness.]

No. Nothing right now. I just . . . needed to know that you were still in my corner.

Thank you.

Abigail, I am always in your corner.

I know, Ben. I know. And the reason I know is because I needed you and you were there.

Sometimes I just need to be reassured. But I trust you. More than anybody.

I know. But sometimes it needs to be stated as well as shown, to continue to be worthy of that trust.

You're the worthiest person I've ever known.

You deserve at least that much.

[What she probably doesn't want is a wandering stranger, but she's going to get one anyway. Merlin has, by this time, discovered via trial and error that some doors don't open unless he has his book - the 'Item', he remembers that, the thing he chose to represent himself as a Warden - and so now he's carrying it over his shoulder in a leather satchel and wishing he'd picked something lighter.

He hasn't strayed above decks yet, not really, but a small amount of exploring turns up a young woman who looks like she's waiting for something or someone.]

...hello.

[It's cautious more than anything else. He's still finding his way, both geographically and in talking to the people he's meeting here.]

[She looks up at him, her expression as sharp and searching as a bird of prey's. He seems out of place, confused, but willing to stick his nose into new things. That means a lot on the Barge, where everything is a potential danger. She wonders if he really knows that yet.]

[His caution is a positive, anyway. It means he's not totally stupid. She tips her chin up at him, the dark scar against her pale throat starkly visible in the light from the stars.]

Hello. I'm Abigail. Are you a warden?

I'm Merlin. And yes.

[He assumes she's an Inmate, if she's hanging around outside an area which needs a Warden's Item.

The scar he notices but doesn't comment on. What would he say? He tilts his head towards the door.]

Were you looking for someone to let you through?

Merlin.

[She doesn't say anything else about that - because why bother, this place is impossible and she already knows about Morgana - just turns to the door and nods.]

I want to go for a hike. But I don't want to go alone.

[The last part is a lie. She just wants him along to see what he is - if he's a threat. To assess him. If he refuses to come, her assessment will go a certain different way.]

A hike?

[Merlin looks speculatively at the locked door. He's seen the size of where they are from the outside.]

In there? I'm sorry, I - I don't understand.

[She gives him a secretive smile, crosses her arms over her chest.]

Maybe I'm crazy. You'll just have to open the door to find out.

[His bewilderment is obvious, but he has to assume this is an educational experience.

Beyond the door there's a flight of steps, and beyond it another door and a small, odd-looking box with a metal grille. And no obvious hiking opportunities. He glances to Abigail, not knowing if this is some kind of trap but untroubled by the possibility.]

Through here?

Through there, [she confirms, just a step behind him, and stands on tiptoe to speak into the intercom.] Sparse woods with even terrain and a slight incline, please.

Go on. Just through the door.

[She's talking to the box. That's odd - but not nearly so odd as when he opens the door and they're suddenly outside. Cool air on his face, green grass under his boots, a blue cloud-scattered sky and a pale yellow sun.

And sparse woods and an even terrain, he notices absently, just like she said. Maybe it's a little like his cabin, a door opening onto another place, but it's - it's exactly what she asked for.]

This is incredible.

[It's a tiny whisper, barely more than a breath.]

[She follows him in, turns her face up to the sun and smiles. When he speaks, she smiles wider but doesn't look at him. She has to consider how to handle this. It would be easy to act as though it isn't all that great, like she's too cool to be really affected.]

[But the easy way isn't always the right way, especially not if she's going to make connections with people. She blinks the sun out of her eyes and turns to him.]

It's the best part of this place.

Don't get too star-struck. We're going hiking.

[So saying, she takes off through the woods, fully expecting him to follow her.]

[Seems legit.

He follows her at what he judges to be a respectful distance, though honestly it's hard to know how to treat people around here. Generally, back home social cues are fairly easy to come by - and there's the way people speak, and dress, as guides to follow. Class dictated his behaviour, as much as he wishes it didn't always have to be that way.

But around here everyone dresses oddly and talks oddly and he's got no context to work with. Treating everyone the same until someone takes offence means he's treading a minefield somewhat, but he doesn't seem to have caused any harm so far.

He ducks down briefly, picking up a fallen leaf and turning it over in his hands as they walk.]

Is this place...real?

[The leaf in his hand and the earth below his feet feels real, but he knows how solid an illusion can be.]

What does real mean?

[It's a little bit flippant and a little bit cruel as a result; she knows what he means, and she knows how she'll answer. In a minute. Sometimes she feels it's necessary to teach people how not to be careless with words. There are, in fact, minefields everywhere.]

[After a moment, though, during which she crunches through some more leaves:]

It's real enough to walk through and to take things out of if you want to, but it's also impossible. There's no way you can create whole landscapes just like that. Not even the Admiral - but.

Maybe he just makes a doorway to other places. Or maybe I'm wrong and it is possible after all. I never grew up with magic.

[The answer he divines from this isn't so much a lesson about careless talk and more 'I don't know, but it's a stupid question'.

Which is fair. He's here on a magical ship and everyone here is from his future. What is real? It doesn't seem to make much difference.

Anyway, she doesn't seem keen on talking, so he just shuts up and walks.]

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