tushanshu | 13N10 [VIDEO]

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13N10 [VIDEO]

[Costigan appears on screen, frowning but seemingly less anxious and restless than usual.]

I forgot almost everyone here I know for over two weeks. [A beat.] I remember now.

[He doesn't mention that it hurt both physically and emotionally when that happened, or how he might have intentionally overdosed himself if not for Abigail's presence.]

Anyone ever find anything out about that?

[97% encrypted to Arthur]
Thanks for helping.

[97% encrypted to Abigail]
Dinner tonight?

[97% encrypted to Olivia] - added later
How you holdin' up?

[97% encrypted to Evandau] - added later
Can we talk?

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[She catches the way he looks at her, and she looks back through long dark strands of hair before teetering forward again. It's a nervous habit, needing to move, touch something.]

No. I'm here because I-- I do better around people I trust. [She reiterates what she told him when he had no memory of her.]

If you want me to be here. I get if you don't. [You can cut the tension with a knife right now with all they're not saying.]

[Costigan has no need to continue stirring and yet his wrist continues to trace circles in the pan with the spoon. He tenses at her last sentiment, frowning, and finally sets the spoon aside. Then he turns to face her again.]

You know me. I'm bad at- at talking, at opening up, at being decent company. But I like you and I trust you and I want you here as long as you want to be here. [His expression of concern intensifies, drawing his brows together.] I want you to stay here. Every night.- That you want to. I think it'd be good for both of us. That hasn't changed.

[She takes a step closer, coming around the side so she can at least look at his face while they talk.]

I know. [Abigail gives a small nod.] I just-- things were said, and I don't want you to think I've gone back on any of it, but I don't want you to think that anything has to happen either.

[Not that that makes any sense. She screws her face up for a moment. Normally she's much better at getting her feelings across.]

I don't want to make things harder on you. In any way. [She looks down at the sauce for a second before her eyes flick back up, smiling a little tight, but there nonetheless. 'I want you to stay here. Every night.' gives her way more butterflies than it should.]

But I want to stay.

[The tension in his muscles increases when she approaches him, the memories of mistaking her for his girlfriend surfacing for a brief second. He quickly suppresses them, trying instead to make sense of her words. Costigan can understand the slang and nuances of drug trades, weapons deals, and violence without batting an eye, but the words of women or affection pretty much go right over his head.]

I wouldn't have invited you here if you made things difficult.

[It's not entirely true. Having his memories again, he has realized how little she knew about his gun, the meds, everything. If she lives her full-time, it would mean her knowing a lot more about all of those things. It would put his now considerably more extensive files at risk of being found, even if they're coded. And, of course, there's always the fear that she might learn the truth of his work and life. The things he did, who he worked for then and who he works for now, the life he could never have. But she needs it and he kind of does too.]

Have a seat while I finish dinner?

[There's nothing left to finish besides serving, but he's a little uncomfortable with her being near him now.]

[He's not good with closeness whether it's emotional or physical, less so if it's both at once. Abigail gives a nod before tucking back some of her bangs, moving over to the table that's already set. She's not sure what she's supposed to say or do now, but she'll wait til he's comfortable to say something, not wanting to prod him hard on this either.]

[Costigan picks up the spoon for some more unnecessary stirring before he finally decides it seems pointless. He moves over to the table, dishing some of the food from the pan onto her plate, then on to his own. He returns the excess to the stove and takes the seat across from her unceremoniously. There's already a glass of water for her and a beer for him on the table.

The silence is terrible. When he forgot her, they seemed to get along better, more naturally. Conversation flowed and the silences between them were mostly comfortable. Now it's awkward. He knows he should say something, that she's waiting, but he doesn't know what it's for.]

I'm sorry, about before. [Costigan offers the words quietly before reaching out to retrieve his beer and take a sip.] It was a lot to remember at once.

You don't have to apologize. [She mostly stirs at the food on her plate. Not because she thinks it looks unappetizing; it's not that. She's just not sure what to say back.]

I just wish I knew what to do or say. [To make him feel better, to make this better. She exhales slowly, momentarily appeased.]

I know-- I had to remember my mom. [There was a lot of guilt involved, a lot of hurt and anger, still not completely over her death either.]

Edited 2013-11-23 09:24 (UTC)

You don't have to say or do anything. [He replies immediately. Costigan holds his fork idly, but doesn't touch his food yet, watching her and worried about what hurt he may have caused her both in forgetting and remembering. It continues to feel overwhelming, even now. At least he's trying.]

I should be the one taking care of you. [The sentiment is muttered before he takes another sip of his beer and returns it before him. Then he begins eating.]

I don't need you to take care of me. I'm not a kid. [Something she seriously hopes he isn't reconsidering now that he has his memories.]

Especially since Will isn't here. [Of course she isn't any less tense about that. She just doesn't want him to think that he's some guardian.]

That's not what I meant. [He sighs, shoving another bite in his mouth. Part of him hopes that seeing him eat will encourage her to do the same. He chews, swallows.] Everyone needs someone looking out for them. You could use it more than most is all.

[Will not being here only helps a little. The man had apologized and, quite frankly, didn't strike Costigan as particularly violent unless in a very specific set of circumstances. For now, his greater concern is the mystery that is Hannibal, as well as the rest of the foreigner population in general. Too many assholes, not enough good people.]

[Stabbing at some noodles, she concedes on his point. But she doesn't take a bite, yet. She's not avoiding it. They've just been talking about important things. Taking a drink, she looks back up at him.]

Thanks then. [She doesn't really let in enough people to actually know enough about her to protect her.]

[Costigan gives a small smile, grateful for her acceptance. He gets tired of arguing when it happens too often, especially with people as stubbornly against needing help as he, himself, is. After another mouthful, he takes a long sip of his beer.

As a short silence grows between them, the Bostonian shifts uncomfortably.] You know you could live here, if you wanted. Instead of moving around.

[She stayed over a lot when he didn't have his memory, wanting to help when she could. But the last few days she had been scarce for that reason. Her eyes look up at him with a small smile.]

It'd be easier than living out of my bag.

We can find you a dresser. [It's an idle remark, in response to her mention of her bag. He doesn't mean for her to just stay for longer, but to actually live there if she so chooses.]

It's not- You've seen it, you know it's not much. But it's safe and we can get what you need.

[And he'll just be finishing off that beer now. As sincere as he is about the offer -- because God knows he wouldn't offer unless he really meant it and had given it a lot of thought -- and wanting her around, it remains a point of anxiety for him. Having someone around means being more careful with secrets.]

It's fine. More than. [Abigail takes a bite.]

I can get what I need. [She has some money.] Just need to find where.

We'll figure it out. [He offers, trying to sound more like an ally - a friend? - and less like a guardian. Costigan can tell she's not fond of the idea of him looking out for her like he did before, calling her kid. She's anything but.

On that thought, he forces a smile and then drops the expression as he stands to go fetch himself another beer. It's not that he's upset with her, but he's never been all that good at faking his emotions and his overall mood hasn't been the same since losing and recovering his memories.]

[She sits quietly as he moves, not sure what to say now. At least they're both trying though. Smiling to herself, she picks at the noodles again.]

We're opening the bakery soon.

[Costigan pops the top from the beer using the counter before returning to the table. He glances at her food then meets her eyes. A moment later, he shifts his gaze and takes a sip of his new brew.]

That's good. You know, when you first told me, I couldn't remember much about the place. Now.. Lincoln was one of the guys in charge of it, originally. He was good people. Olivia and Walter.. they're good people too. It's a good thing you're there.

[A beat, another sip.]

You should eat something.

I am eating. [Abigail picks up her head again to watch him as she overemphasizes taking a bite. Once it's chewed and swallowed, she responds.]

Liv was one of the first people I talked to here. After Hannibal. I wasn't sure I could trust her because she's FBI, but different worlds an all. [An odd thing to say.]

[Costigan smiles faintly at her hyperbole, finding something oddly beautiful about the domesticity of the situation before them. It helps ease some of the anxiety. He takes another sip to help.]

You didn't do anything bad. Helping your dad- you had to. People understand that. You wouldn't be arrested for something like that.

[He's blissfully ignorant of the fact that she's killed someone herself.]

You don't know the head of the behavioral analysis unit. [She shook her head, remembering the way he dragged her in to look at Nick Boyle's body. Suddenly she got a lot less hungry.]

He wants someone to hang for it.

He has your dad. [He replies decidedly, confident in his response.]

They won't charge you when you didn't kill anyone yourself. It doesn't work like that. [A beat, then he adds the obligatory:] They could, but it'd be fahkin' retahded. No jury would sentence you.

The world already thinks I helped him. I wanted to stop it. [Everything people said, the graffiti on her old house.

Plus she still felt like she was just like him. She did kill Nick Boyle. Her eyes don't meet his after he talks about her killing someone, unable to look at him, but afraid he wouldn't think the same of her if she told him what happened.]

Fuck the world. They don't matter. [Costigan might be one of the most difficult people in the world to peer pressure into something he doesn't want to do. With that comes an utter lack of fucks to give for people that don't matter.] Besides, you're here now. They don't have to know.

[He assumes her sudden downtrodden gaze has to do with the subject matter and not any guilt, so he returns to drinking his beer and wonders if he should change topics.]

I don't want anyone to know. [She looks terrified at the thought.]

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