Mashed against him like this, Neph feels the exact moment her question drops and Hannibal picks it up. He freezes, but his breath hitches. He doesn't blink, but his pulse hammers against her mouth. She's struck by the perverse urge to bite down, as though it might escape otherwise. After a long minute, Hannibal's ribcage expands in a slow, steadying breath. Neph mostly just hangs on for the ride at that point, fascinated in a tired and slightly detached kind of way.
That was way more emotion than she'd meant to trigger, when the question slipped out of her mouth.
In the same distant manner she recognizes that she really oughta be more alarmed that hurting anyone to keep them around is in Hannibal's playbook. Like, at all. But as she just said, they just killed like ten people. How is taking out an external threat any different from hurting the threatened person to keep them close? It's a path of logic that shouldn't be so easy to walk, yet here she is, making her way down it and into his brain. She's not so far gone that she doesn't feel a surge of relief that Will is safe, that he won't ever see Hannibal's white, white teeth gleaming in his bloody, bloody face, not turned against him.
"I'm not gonna leave you," she hisses, fingers digging into his opposite hip. What had she said to him, that night a couple months before Will moved in? That she doesn't want to see him hurt, but she's too selfish to take herself off to a safe distance? Yeah. That. "I'm gonna--we're gonna take care of each other, okay? No matter what."
The enormity of what he's done for her, what caring for her this last almost-week must've looked like, is still sinking in. If she thinks about it too much, looks at it straight on, this tenuous control over her tear ducts is gonna go bye-bye. It's almost overwhelming to acknowledge the obvious stuff, like the pins in her wrist or the stolen IV equipment, like the blanket he keeps stealing off her bed and the fact that the sheets feel clean against her legs. She feels gross but not downright disgusting, not a crusty risen corpse like the last time Burnout took her. Hannibal did all that, and he kept her safe in the process. Neph will return that to him one day, whatever it takes.
She's doing it now, in part, by trying to prepare him for a nasty possibility. "'Cuz I don't want it to break you if he does," she sighs, "And 'cuz he...he's allowed to go if he wants. He deserves that."
Will shouldn't be trapped with people who scare him. Just like Neph doesn't deserve to have her fear of abandonment thrown right in her teeth like this. She full-body flinches under Hannibal's arm, shoulders jerking into his armpit and the hollow of his elbow. Her mouth crimps up in a miserable line. It was one thing for Will to accept Hannibal as a mutant - people at least know they exist. It was another for him to accept her abilities - he was onboard with mutations, magic's really just a step further. He'd even accepted some of the dangers she'd described for him, but now the threats are piling up on Hannibal's side, too. Asking him to stay just means taking on double the risk.
He might be willing to stay for Hannibal, but he didn't choose her. He sort of got her on a two-for-one sale. She can't expect--she doesn't expect. Not anything. Not from Will. In a creaky whisper, Neph says, "Yeah, I do. I'm a--" A flash of Hannibal beating a man's face in with a gun, not once but twice. "We're monsters, Hannibal. And we almost got Will killed. He'd be crazy to stay."
She turns her head away from Hannibal and scrubs her eyes against her shoulder. The cast comes all the way up her arm, but whatever it's made of is wrapped in soft bandages that blot moisture well enough. Neph stares determinedly at the tacky wallpaper until her eyes feel dry, wondering if Will's been considering escape routes on these walks of his.
"Do you think he'll stay?" she doesn't mean to ask, much less sound like such a baby when she does. She hasn't meant for a lot of things to happen.
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timeasmymeasure
No that can't be right!!!
Date: 2017-08-30 07:16 am (UTC)That was way more emotion than she'd meant to trigger, when the question slipped out of her mouth.
In the same distant manner she recognizes that she really oughta be more alarmed that hurting anyone to keep them around is in Hannibal's playbook. Like, at all. But as she just said, they just killed like ten people. How is taking out an external threat any different from hurting the threatened person to keep them close? It's a path of logic that shouldn't be so easy to walk, yet here she is, making her way down it and into his brain. She's not so far gone that she doesn't feel a surge of relief that Will is safe, that he won't ever see Hannibal's white, white teeth gleaming in his bloody, bloody face, not turned against him.
"I'm not gonna leave you," she hisses, fingers digging into his opposite hip. What had she said to him, that night a couple months before Will moved in? That she doesn't want to see him hurt, but she's too selfish to take herself off to a safe distance? Yeah. That. "I'm gonna--we're gonna take care of each other, okay? No matter what."
The enormity of what he's done for her, what caring for her this last almost-week must've looked like, is still sinking in. If she thinks about it too much, looks at it straight on, this tenuous control over her tear ducts is gonna go bye-bye. It's almost overwhelming to acknowledge the obvious stuff, like the pins in her wrist or the stolen IV equipment, like the blanket he keeps stealing off her bed and the fact that the sheets feel clean against her legs. She feels gross but not downright disgusting, not a crusty risen corpse like the last time Burnout took her. Hannibal did all that, and he kept her safe in the process. Neph will return that to him one day, whatever it takes.
She's doing it now, in part, by trying to prepare him for a nasty possibility. "'Cuz I don't want it to break you if he does," she sighs, "And 'cuz he...he's allowed to go if he wants. He deserves that."
Will shouldn't be trapped with people who scare him. Just like Neph doesn't deserve to have her fear of abandonment thrown right in her teeth like this. She full-body flinches under Hannibal's arm, shoulders jerking into his armpit and the hollow of his elbow. Her mouth crimps up in a miserable line. It was one thing for Will to accept Hannibal as a mutant - people at least know they exist. It was another for him to accept her abilities - he was onboard with mutations, magic's really just a step further. He'd even accepted some of the dangers she'd described for him, but now the threats are piling up on Hannibal's side, too. Asking him to stay just means taking on double the risk.
He might be willing to stay for Hannibal, but he didn't choose her. He sort of got her on a two-for-one sale. She can't expect--she doesn't expect. Not anything. Not from Will. In a creaky whisper, Neph says, "Yeah, I do. I'm a--" A flash of Hannibal beating a man's face in with a gun, not once but twice. "We're monsters, Hannibal. And we almost got Will killed. He'd be crazy to stay."
She turns her head away from Hannibal and scrubs her eyes against her shoulder. The cast comes all the way up her arm, but whatever it's made of is wrapped in soft bandages that blot moisture well enough. Neph stares determinedly at the tacky wallpaper until her eyes feel dry, wondering if Will's been considering escape routes on these walks of his.
"Do you think he'll stay?" she doesn't mean to ask, much less sound like such a baby when she does. She hasn't meant for a lot of things to happen.