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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No one has to. [A beat, then he gives a smile, trying to lighten the mood again.] Except me. I'm not forgetting you again.

[Her eyes flicker up, a small smile in the corner of her lips.]

I'm glad you remember even if-- [They had gotten closer before. But that didn't mean they couldn't now.]

[Costigan waits for her to finish her thought, taking another sip of his drink. When she doesn't, his smile fades.]

'Even if' what?

[She gives him an honest look.]

We were closer when you didn't.

[And that earns a deeper frown, one edged less with irritation and more with genuine anger.]

What the hell is that supposed to mean?

I didn't mean it offensively. [Just stating a fact. Her shoulders drop as she sits forward.] We just-- talked more. It wasn't awkward; this whole 'what are we doing thing'.

[Costigan sets down both his drink and his fork to look at her. He immediately suppresses his anger to a minimal level, wanting to avoid any perception of aggression given her history. But he's still displeased and he makes no effort to hide that.]

We're talking now and I didn't think it was all that awkward, except for the part where I just got ten months of bullshit, pain, and- and closeness shoved back into my head without warning. I didn't appreciate the holes all that much, but the fucking Hiroshima of bad shit wasn't exactly a welcome home.

[He sighs.] Look, I get that you're trying to help and I appreciate that, I do. It's not your fault. But yeah, I'm angry. And this is me. This. Not the asshole who couldn't remember shit.

The truth is, I have no fucking clue what we're doing or what this is, but I don't see a real need to lay it out. Do you?

[Any sort of confrontation has her on edge. Each hand goes flat to the table, and she looks back at him.]

I'm not saying anything bad about you. Trust me, I get it. I had to remember my dead mother bleeding out on my front porch all of a sudden. They took that from me. [And she couldn't even tell him, because he didn't remember her.]

I just meant-- you made me think about things differently when you couldn't remember, because you did ask things that I didn't have the answers to. I still don't.

And that's okay. [To answer his question.]

Fuck. I didn't realize that's what you meant. [When she mentioned remembering her mother before, he assumed it was a result of the trauma, not the same effect that he had been afflicted by. The undercover's frown deepens and he drops his eyes to the table for a beat before they flicker back up to her and he continues, more reserved.]

You want me to ask more questions, I'll ask more questions. It goes both ways. [It's his way of saying that he can't take the initiative on everything. He's not one to push and she's a younger and traumatized girl; the last thing he wants is to take advantage of her.]

[She shakes her head, not wanting to deal with that right now.] It's fine. It's nothing-- no more guilt than I've already had to deal with. [Not exactly a lie. Survivor's guilt is a bitch.]

I know. I know that. It's just-- I realized I don't know much about you. I don't even know what to ask. I'm not sure what you'd tell me. [Because as a person who buries secrets deep within herself, she can recognize how closed off he is.]

I'm not saying we need to have some sit down right now. But you asking questions about-- us, made me realize that I don't know you as well as you know me. Which is okay. It's just what it is. [And they did talk on his bed, and she does appreciate that.]

I want to get to know you, Billy. You, this you. Whatever you there is.

[A memory surfaces, of his first seeing her when he couldn't recall who she was. Costigan shifts his gaze past her, out into the other room, trying to shake the thoughts hid mind concocted when he didn't know better. It's not what she means and it sure as hell isn't what she needs.

He shifts to fish around in his pocket and remove his bottle of medication, very nearly empty. The Bostonian shakes a couple of the medications out onto his palm and returns the bottle to his pocket without a word, popping the pills back and swallowing them with a sip of beer.

Then he looks at her again.] You know most of what there is to know. My parents divorced when I was a kid, I grew up between the two homes. I went to school, I went to the Academy, I got kicked out for assault, did my time, and then went into the family business. That's it.

[Okay, so he's glossing over what the family business is. And completely lying about the whole undercover thing. But he believes his life is genuinely less interesting than hers and, really, the last thing she needs is more violence.]

And it's not okay. [Her forgetting her mother.] I should have asked and I didn't. But I'm asking now. What happened?

No one's life can be summed up in one sentence. Trust me. I made an art out of it. [Coming off as a middle suburban daughter.]

But fine. If you don't want to tell me, I of all people know what it's like. [To keep secrets. To make sure some of them never get out. She bites her bottom lip.]

You didn't ask, because you didn't know. I didn't really tell anyone. [She looks down before shrugging.] What am I supposed to say? My mother was killed by my father, her husband, the psychotic man she married.

[She huffs out a bitter laugh.] And somehow she was wiped from my memory. It all came back in one horrific memory where I didn't even get to try and save her. He sliced her neck and grabbed me. He left her die like he tried to do to me.

And that's what she'll forever be known for. The wife of a cannibal.

[Costigan sets his drink down and then stares at her, very plainly frustrated. He leans in, narrowing his eyes at her, and speaks slowly. His tone lacks aggression or outright anger, instead bordering on demeaning.]

I didn't say I don't want to tell you more than that. I said that's all there is that's worth knowing. You want to ask me more, you ask, but I don't know what else you want me to tell you.

[He takes a deep breath and straightens stiffly in his chair. He has never been good with opening up or with feelings, but he's trying and it bothers him that she seems content to leave him to his secrets in one breath and criticizes him for it in the next. He hates the confusion.

But his tone returns to something more neutral as he calms himself, trying so very hard not to explode at her as he did with Madolyn.]

And yeah. You say that. You say you wanted to save her or that you replay that memory all the time, as if you expect it to change, but it never does. You say how logically you know there was nothing you could do, but it still feels like your fault. [Not that he's projecting his own experiences onto her or anything.] You say whatever you want.

[She sighs, not exactly appreciating his tone. It'll just have to be something they both work on, though she doesn't feel like he's the most open about it. It isn't a criticism, but she'll let it go.]:/small>

If I think of something, I'll ask. [It's a compromise, and she hopes he knows she doesn't think it's all on him. She doesn't know what she's doing either.]

I lived. Hannibal saved me. [Which is what it comes down to.]

[He watches her again, approving of her acceptance, but disapproving of what follows. Suddenly it makes sense, why she clings to him even when the guy's getting in trouble with the kedan and still dragging her back into her old life. He ignores how hypocritical it is, confident he'd have trouble leaving members of his own old life alone. This isn't about him.]

You think that means you owe him something?

No. [Hannibal had forged a connection with her. She won't mention Mischa since she knows little of Hannibal's sister, and it isn't her story to tell. But she thinks she knows why he bonded with her. At least it makes sense.]

He's the only person I trust back home. He has me, and I have him. He's been there since I woke up, and I don't know where I'd be without him. [Dead or in jail.]

He cares. Genuinely.

[Costigan is more relieved than he realized he would be to hear her say that. He doesn't really like or trust the guy and knows the man can be trouble, but if Abigail trusts that he cares, then Costigan will too. Even if it's not what he would do. Even if he still wants to keep an eye on the man.]

Alright. [And that's all she's getting, because he's skeptical and frustrated and generally grumpy. The undercover takes another long sip of his beer and then picks up his fork to continue eating. As far as he's concerned, that's the end of the subject.]

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13N10 [VIDEO]

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