"Why was Dr. Lecter arrested?" Abigail asks, finally speaking after a long silence, sitting across from Will in his small room at the hospital.
Will looks her over. "I think you know the answer to that." Abigail looks away, closing her eyes, and Will feels a sharp pang of regret for being so blunt with her. "That was out of line, I..." He doesn't know how to finish the sentence.
"Don't apologize," she says quietly. "I've known for a while, I just didn't..." Abigail stands, walks around his bed to stare out the window into the street below, where masses of journalists have gathered to document what they're describing as the "Scandal of the Century".
Didn't want to believe it, Will finishes in his head. "Because he was kind to you." It's not a question. "He was kind to me too. Always so polite. No one really had any reason to suspect he would… you know." Abigail nods. She's facing away from him, her arms folded into her chest, and Will recognizes the position as one that keeps her together, keeps her from falling apart. "Abigail," he says softly, sitting up.
She turns and sits on the edge of his bed, and Will puts a hand on her shoulder. When she speaks, her voice is slightly muffled by her hand. "First my dad, and now... I trusted him..."
"So did I." Will and Abigail sit there until the door opens with a soft knock. It's Alana Bloom. Alana looks sad, but not the kind of sad that Will is experiencing. The kind of sad that comes before the act- apologetically sad. "What happened?" he asks, ignoring all pretense of politeness.
Alana doesn't speak, but steps aside to reveal Jack Crawford and two accompanying agents. "Miss Hobbs, if you'll accompany us," he says briskly, gesturing the two agents forward.
"Why do you need her?" Abigail has stood and backed into the wall, and Will puts out an arm.
Alana sighs. "I told him it was unnecessary, but-"
"We need you to come in for some questioning," Crawford interrupts.
"I didn't do anything," Abigail whispers, balling a hand in the back of Will's shirt.
"It's routine- you were closer to Dr. Lecter than the rest of us..." Alana trails off as she sees the pieces click into place in Will's head.
"You still suspect her of killing Boyle," he says. "You've already questioned her, and now you come back with other agents to intimidate her into confessing to something she didn't do."
"They aren't for her," Crawford tells him. "They're for you." One of the agents pushes a button on Will's IV while the other gathers Abigail.
"What are you doing?" Alana pushes past the first agent, unhooking Will's IV with expert hands, and looks up, furious. "You can't just sedate someone into compliance!"
"I can if he's threatening to obstruct justice," Jack informs her. Alana pulls the needle out of Will's arm, but he can already feel the drugs working their way through his body, dimming his vision. Abigail tries to reach out to Will, but the agent stops her and begins shepherding her toward the door. He has to talk to her.
"It's okay," Will begins. "You'll be out in no time. I'll be right- right here…" Will falls back onto his pillows. He can hear her calling for him, but her voice is fading as she gets pushed down the hallway. Alana grips his hand, pushes his hair out of his face. "Make sure she's okay," he manages. "Please. She can't…"
"I will," Alana tells him. "Abigail is my patient, and I won't let Jack use her as a scapegoat." Will's eyes flutter, and the room spins a little bit. "Will?"
For the second time that week (it's becoming a bad habit, he thinks) he fades into unconsciousness against his own will.