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[ Abigail tries to do the smart thing and figure out the situation on her own. She does her best: reads the weird pamphlet three times, glances through the first few videos she finds on the smart-phone-like device, wanders around the grounds trying to look for a way out. Obviously, she does not find one. None of it makes any sense. She sits in the gardens for a few hours waiting to wake up, but if there is one thing her nightmares never are, it's tedious. So with boredom comes fear; if this isn't a dream, it means her life had changed radically yet again without warning. It means that just as she was beginning to have hope for some kind of stability, she was thrown into another mess. ]

[ The video shows her visibly upset, though clearly trying to master it. Her voice is small, and shaky with suppressed emotion, but she gets out what she means to say: ]

I'm not gonna bother asking a bunch of questions when it's obvious there's no one here who can help me.

[ Not to mention the fact that she wouldn't trust any answers she got, anyway. Any stranger might be complicit, as far as she's concerned. Abigail has difficulty trusting on the best of days. ]

I just want to know if... if anyone who sees this recognizes me. Is there anyone from my- [ It sounds so silly saying it, but she does ] -from my world here?

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That would require knowing what world you're from. There seem to be more added since I arrived a short time ago.

[He watches her for a few short second, same as he does everyone. There's nothing remarkable there that he can see.]

It would help knowing who it might be that would recognize you.

[ Interesting accent. Does it sound vaguely familiar, or was Abigail's mind playing tricks on her? ] I don't know how to say which world is mine and which isn't. Before today there was kind of only one option, you know?

[ This guy looks about her age; the staring might seem weird in other circumstances but it's hardly registering on the weird scale for today. It's a valid point, too. Maybe someone she knows is here but not looking on the network, and this guy has met them and can help her contact them. ]

Do you know anyone named Hannibal Lecter? Or, uh, Will Graham? Or Dr. Bloom?

Edited 2014-05-05 19:19 (UTC)

Yes, I do know. Before I ended up here, it was an entirely different year than most here are from. These devices didn't exist.

[The mention of the names draws a curious look from him, a fracture in the polite but disinterested mannerism he usually shows.]

I am Doctor Hannibal Lecter. [For the moment, he doesn't mention there is another. Best to get all the information he can before being interrupted.]

[ Abigail raises her eyebrows skeptically. No. No way. Absolutely not. She's not putting up with some stupid guy's jokes on top of everything else. ]

No, you're not.

[ A tiny voice of doubt in the back of her mind says that his accent really is rather familiar, and who's to say timelines wouldn't get mixed up in a place like this. But overall it's too bizarre to contemplate ]

[A hand slides out of frame before returning as he rummages for something on his desk. He holds up a clip on identification. At the top is 'Johns Hopkins Hospital' in blue, a picture of himself in the middle, and at the bottom reads, 'Hannibal Lecter, MD - Intern, Emergency Room'.]

I can assure you that I am Doctor Hannibal Lecter, previously of Johns Hopkins in Baltimore, Maryland in the United States of America. I'm an intern there. I have been for a month or so.

That leaves me with the question of who are you and how do you know my name?

[ Abigail remembers Hannibal mentioning going to Johns Hopkins. The ID card is fairly convincing evidence; why would he keep that around, waiting for someone to mention Hannibal so he could impersonate him? Besides, there's that accent and, if she looks closely, she can see similarities in his face. It's like looking at a picture of your parents from when they were your age. ]

I'm... someone you're going to know, I guess. In the future. [ She's not sure what to call Hannibal. Friend isn't right. Legal guardian sounds so cold. She shakes her head slightly in disbelief. ] This is so weird.

Ah. Him.

[The smile he gives her doesn't quite reach his maroon eyes as he leans forward a bit to get a better look at her. The reflection of the screen illuminates his eyes, red lighting in them.]

The other Hannibal Lecter. We're not the same person near as I can tell.

[The predatory edge to that smile fades into something blander, more interested.]

I can't say I like plaid all that much.

[ 'Him'. So that means this Hannibal is aware of another Hannibal. Does that necessarily mean the 'other Hannibal', as this younger version puts it, is the one who knows her? What if there are three? She's got enough problems in her life without worrying about this sort of thing. ]

[ Abigail's smile at his crack about Hannibal's penchant for plaid is somewhat dimmed by the fact that she is noticing his eye color for the first time. Could it be a fault of the video feed? Hard to tell how accurate the colors are. It's unnerving either way ]

Do you... know where he is? The other one?

The older Hannibal Lecter? I have an idea where he might be right now. And I do know where his room is.

[He taps his fingers as if in thought, counting off fifty beats of his heart to give them both time. Waiting for something sometimes makes for a better pay off.]

He is an older gentleman, yes? Wears suits, plaids and paisley? I want to make sure I have the right person before I take you to someone who wouldn't know you.

That's him. [ Or at least, a nearer version of him than this guy. Something about his stillness and the way that he's looking at her makes the hair on the back of her neck stand up. She isn't sure why, or if it's a feeling she can trust. Abigail knows well enough that sometimes her instincts of fear are... disproportionate. ]

[This presents a unique situation for Hannibal. He'd like to know more of the older version, find any weak points that they don't share. But his older self might already be listening to this exchange, seeing the warning signs. This all passes through his mind in the blink of an eye, Hannibal dipping his head and looking back up to her.]

He's on the first floor in the six hundred area. Will Graham is about or someone who said that was his name. [It's her upset he needs to address first that she displayed at the beginning of the transmission.] I'm sure they'll find you soon enough. I would if you were a friend of mine. I'm sure he will as well. You're in Wonderland, not the Black Forest with wolves about.

Wonderland?

[ Abigail had heard a couple of people on the network, as she was skimming conversations, refer to this place by that name. At first she thought it was an isolated, inside joke. But now that this other Hannibal has mentioned it, too, she's starting to wonder if it isn't some kind of official title. ]

Why's it called that?

[ Though she doesn't miss what Hannibal said about if they were friends - was that a friendly overture? or merely a turn of speech? - she is too cautious to respond directly. Abigail doesn't want to cross or burn any bridges too soon ]

The name is taken from the Lewis Carroll books, and it appears to be just that.

[He takes his time to explain, watching her as he does although the intensity of before lessens with each word. A quirk of a smile comes.]

I met a lady a day ago that suggested keeping a bowl of milk or cream for the Cheshire Cat should you meet him. Others have made mention of a Queen and some of the others from the stories.

[A small shrug displays his not being sure on the subject yet.] A mass hallucination on this scale and shared detail seems unlikely.

[ Privately, Abigail wonders if it is a mass hallucination of unparalleled proportions, or if it might not be something much smaller. Say, a singular hallucination, in which she figures as Alice. When you've spent the last few months of your life living in a psychiatric facility, it gets a bit easier imagining how all-encompassing a delusion can get. Could the solution be that simple? Has the pressure of killing Nick Boyle, of helping her dad kill all those girls, finally caught up with her? Did her mind snap under its weight and conjure up a world where nothing was supposed to make sense, where she ran into red-eyed teenaged versions of father figures and thought little of it? ]

That's ridiculous.

[ Her distraction is clear in her voice, but she's still present enough to ask ] If you don't think it's a mass hallucination... what is it?

That would be one of the underlying ideas of Wonderland. Logic, or a semblance of such, didn't quite exist in the stories.

[He shrugs with a practiced nonchalance.]

It isn't something you need to think about or even accept right now. Your friends are here, and you should speak to them.

[As good as it would be to pick at her now, find out her secrets regarding his older self, it's too obvious right now.]

Something familiar in a strange land might help you as they say.

[ Abigail blinks a few times, testing this idea in her mind. Can she really just.... not think about the logistics of any of this? Set it aside in her mind, tucked up tight in some corner, to gnaw at her quietly? She'd like to think it would be impossible, but the truth is, she knows she can. She's getting good at compartmentalizing. There is a measure more calm in her next reply. ]

It might.

[ In any case, if Will and the real Hannibal are here, she wants to find them. Just knowing that they are here helps; Abigail even manages a small smile, though it's just for show: ]

Thanks.

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