Who: Abigail Hobbs & Will Graham What: Trying to console the surrogate daughter When: Last night, during the whole Caleb/Jackal Mac fiasco. Where: Abigail's cell. WARNINGS: Well, Abigail is having a giant meltdown, and sure enough, there will be talk about her cannibal serial killer father. Will update as needed.
Will couldn't say he wished he didn't read every single comment on that thread. Reading all that dizzying, misogynistic bullshit and knowing that victims were reading it too, didn't help a headache, and knowing he couldn't do anything about it made him sick to his stomach, but if he hadn't subjected himself to it, he wouldn't have been able to catch Abigail slipping, so to speak. But all of that was assuming she hadn't already slipped, that he wasn't too late. Damage had been done, and even though Will thought about going to Alana or Hannibal first for the backup he would surely need, he decided against it. The damage had already been done, and if the levee was about to break, he needed to get to her as quick as possible to try and fix.. whatever was left to fix. But Will couldn't think like that. Not because he knew that he couldn't 'fix' Abigail the way he wished with everything that he was that he could, but because he couldn't let himself panic thinking about what she might be doing right now, or what kind of state he'd find her in, or worse, if there would ever be any bringing her out of it. He couldn't think on everything the ghost had told her either, because it couldn't matter right now. Not when Abigail needed him. And if he started thinking on why he refused to let Caleb's words matter right now, there was a good chance that he would be absolutely useless to Abigail. For once, it was surprisingly easy to tune his own thoughts out to think of nothing but putting one foot in front of the other, faster and faster, to get to Abigail's cell. Another for once, it was easy to opt not to care who owned that thought; himself, or.. someone else.
Will slowed down once he was close enough to Abigail's cell to see that she wasn't waiting for him outside her cell. His heart was already beating too hard, he had to slow to a walk just for the sake of keeping his chest from collapsing at the sight.. or lack there of. Will didn't know if he was prepared for what he might have to face once he stepped in front of Abigail's cell. Not that it mattered. There was no turning back.
He could feel blood that had long since dried and washed away, cooling, and slipping through his fingers.