The Second Abigail

Home

"Hannibal. Oh my god, Hannibal, she's waking up! Get here!" Will Graham, shouted across the hall of Hannibal's house in Baltimore, Maryland. He leaned precariously across the painted-white oak crib, reducing his voice to a slither of a whisper as the baby stirred in her sleep.

Hannibal Lecter, alerted by Will's cries, shuffled as fast as he could along the thickly carpeted floors, his flip-flop slippers slapping on the floor as he hurried along. He held two mugs; his a white cappuccino, Will's a simple black tea. Even in his oldest slippers and most scraggly bathrobe, he was graceful and managed to not spill a single drop as he ran to reach Will's side, breathing slightly hitched when he reached him. Hannibal pushed the two mugs out of reach (on coasters) and joined Will in his positioning over the crib, peering down onto the new-born baby that stretched before them, her face bright red and scrunched up tight, dreaming of warmth.

"She hasn't to wake up soon. Surely. It's been hours – hours. No baby sleeps this long. Not ever." Will turned anxiously to Hannibal, his tone hushed but scared. "What if there's something wrong with her? Can you tell? Is she ill?"

Hannibal merely chucked at his partner's worry, bringing a hand to rest on his fiancée's shoulder, curving his thumb in a soothing way. Will visibly relaxed, breathing out a heavy sigh and sagging on the crib's frame, his own arms tucked underneath his body.

"Will it always be this stressful?" Will asked, pouting up to Hannibal with bright, shiny eyes. Hannibal didn't speak, only shook his head and dropped down to where Will's head rested, nuzzling his lover with his nose, the pair of them watching the baby stir more frequently.

"She's waking up." Hannibal murmured, his hand reaching out to cup the baby's cheek – only to have Will slap it away at the last second, his jaw set tightly. "No! Let her sleep!" He scolded; but the baby had awoken. Will and Hannibal held their breath as the baby opened her eyes wide, blue and bright and unfocused. She clocked eyes at the pair of men hanging over her crib, holding their breaths and smiling faintly at her.

And that was when she decided to open her mouth wide, presenting her gums for the first time, and start shrieking with as much force as her tiny lungs could muster. Will visibly jumped back, but Hannibal stayed where he was, calmly scooping the tiny child up in his hands and cradling her to his chest, shushing her. The child continued to cry, but a little less, her fists waving in the air as Will moved closer, peering down on her face as if she was the most precious thing he had ever seen.

"She is." Hannibal answered him, breaking his eye contact with the child to crowd Will in closer, wrapping an arm around him too. "She's the most precious thing in this world." The baby had quietened, content to wail softly and murmur wordless noises, stretching in Hannibal's arms to peer around her, even if she couldn't comprehend what or where she was.

"She's incredible." Will breathed, his breath ghosting over her forehead as he pulled himself closer to her, to Hannibal, his whole life standing in one centre of one room. "Can I?" he asked, holding out his arms, even though he was shaking slightly.

Hannibal laughed, low and heavy in the darkness of the room. "Of course, Will. She's your child too." Hannibal structured Will's arms, placing the baby into his cradle and took a step back, surveying the scene before him. His lover, his fiancée, holding the life they now had sworn to protect, together.

Despite the fact she was neither blood relation to either of the men, she held the look of Will; small features, large eyes, a lot of dark brunette hair. Pale pink lips that opened and closed in awe, her face scrunched up in the way Will does when he gets angry, or nervous. She may have Will's looks, but she would have Hannibal's upbringing. To the core, she'd be Hannibal's daughter. And the two of them were completely content with that.