patterns_bloom | (no subject)

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"We're losing her, Hannibal," Alana says, puckering her lips slightly as she crosses the threshold out of Abigail's institution. "And to Freddie Lounds of all people! I can't believe she has pushed the girl to outline the entire book already."

After crossing the parking lot to Dr. Lecter's Bentley in relative silence, she turns to her friend and colleague. "How are you?" she says, tone genuinely concerned but words laced with a frustrated sigh.

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Hannibal opens the door on the passenger side and holds it for her.

"Not for good," he says. "We must let her roam, or she'll try and break free from our care."

Alana furrows her brow and then nods, fury deflating. "I just wish she wouldn't roam straight into Tattle Crime."

Alana pats his hand. Then she climbs into the passenger seat, smoothing her dahlia-patterned skirt. "I suppose I'm worried because she still doesn't trust me," she says. "Thank goodness you and Will are around for her, though I still don't know how that works."

Gently, he closes the door and walks over to the driver's side.

"I think the answer is, Shaky, but better than you'd think," he says, closing the door as he sits and pulls up the seat belt.

Alana buckles herself in, nodding. "Speaking of shaky... Have you seen Will lately?" she asks. "I've been too busy with Quantico and my own practice to stop by."

"Shaky, yes," Hannibal says, sighing. "This latest case may be pushing him beyond his limits. Jack will work him to the bone."

He puts the key in the ignition and turns it. The Bentley purrs to life.

"What?" she asks, startled out of folding her arms. "I knew he was... unstable, but how bad off is he?"

Hannibal drives off the parking lot, leaving the nice old wooden mansion behind.

"This case," he says, sighing. "It is so bizarre that it seems almost supernatural. Monsters under the bed. Zombies."

"I'm less concerned about the case," she says, tapping her knuckle against her lip in thought, "and more about the effect it's having on Will. Has he stopped sleep--ah, actually, I should probably ask him myself. I wouldn't want to intrude on your patient relationship."

"He's not just my patient," Hannibal says, gravely. "But yes, you might want to. I wouldn't want to insert my uncalled-for input into your friendship."

Alana frowns at that, and taps her toes. "Well, you might have spotted something that I wouldn't have," she says slowly. "So I'd welcome your opinion as his friend."

"As his friend, I would honestly love to get him out from under Jack's shadow," Hannibal says, taking a corner. The Bentley prowls along the road like a lion through his territory.

"But he insists he saves lives, and allows himself to be pushed further and further. No wonder this case makes him almost slip up in all that blood."

"I keep telling Jack not to let him in too close," Alana says tightly, gripping the edge of her skirt.

But she loosens her hands in surprise. "Slip up? In blood? What do you mean? That had better be a metaphor, though with these cases, I can't always tell."

Edited 2013-11-18 00:22 (UTC)

"I'm afraid not," Hannibal says, with a deep sigh.

Alana stares ahead, narrowed eyes tracking something other than the trees around them.

"This job is difficult enough for a person without Will's unique gift. If he allows Jack to push him any further," she says, quiet fury hardening her voice, "he will break."

Then she turns to Hannibal with a frustrated plea. "Is there any chance of convincing him he needs a respite, at the very least?"

Edited 2013-11-18 21:00 (UTC)

"I still hope he will hear the warning shot, so to speak, once he stumbles seriously enough, if he doesn't listen to you or to me," he says.

"Is he not listening to you?" she asks, blinking at him. "He needs to. Jack's 'save lives' mantra is a strong impetus, but one which comes at the cost of Will's own. It relies on his inability to recognize that he's in over his head, and he's never been the best at self-care; if he's not listening to us... this could be a disaster."

She frowns. "And Jack will do everything he can to make sure things stay that way," she says. "He's less likely to listen than Will, but have you spoken to him?"

Edited 2013-11-18 21:13 (UTC)

"I have, and I will do so again," Hannibal says. "He has much on his plate, of course. This is a bad time for both of them."

"Of course," Alana says, and then shakes her head. "Of course, but Jack is the one in the position of power here, and he's not falling apart."

She sighs. "You don't think I have too much vitriol against Jack, do you? He's put thumbscrews on Will and Abigail, but I wonder if I'm losing my objectivity."

They stop at a red traffic light, and Hannibal drums his fingers on the steering wheel.

"We all want to protect what is dearest to us," he says.

"Or give them the tools to protect themselves," she muses.

"Are we sure they would know when to use them?" Hannibal says.

The light turns green, and the Bentley purrs away smoothly.

"No," she says, furrowing her brow. "In fact, I'm pretty sure that's why Will has become so unstable, and Freddie has scooped up Abigail."

She holds up her hands, helpless. "Ultimately, their health is up to them. But I can't sit by and just watch Will deteriorate into madness," she says. "His auditory hallucinations are already a concern. Does he present with any other signs of acute psychosis? The sleep deprivation alone could be driving these."

"I fear," Hannibal says, "this has become a coiled spring of a vicious circle reinforcing itself. Let us stop at the Italian café, shall we? This is so worrisome, I need coffee."

Alana blinks rapidly. "Oh, uh, yes," she says. "Yes, please, coffee sounds fabulous about now."

She gathers her hair and lets it drop, running her fingers through it. "Thank you, Hannibal," she says. "For listening."

Edited 2013-11-18 22:52 (UTC)

"I'm not declaring this done," Hannibal says, taking a deep breath. "I simply need coffee before I want to continue."

Pause.

"Hallucinations. Really."

Alana shifts in her seat. "I... walked in on him presenting a lecture to his class--while no one but the two of us were in the room."

"Hannibal, he needs treatment. He needs rest!" she says, and then drops her gaze to her skirt, murmuring, "I don't want to see him involuntarily committed."

Hannibal is silent for quite a while, as if not knowing what to say.

"This is so much worse than I feared," he says, gravely, as he deftly manoeuvres the Bentley into an empty slot right in front of the Italian café he was talking about.

Alana drops her hands into her lap. "You didn't see..." she starts, and then trails off as she unbuckles her seatbelt.

"Well, I trust you," she says, opening her door to exit the car. "As his doctor, and his friend."

Frowning, she shields her eyes from the sun. "But... Please help Will, Hannibal," she says softly. "Don't let him break."

"He did not tell me about that incident," Hannibal says. "I know he hears and sees things, but talking to thin air? That is worse than I knew."

He has walked around the car, can closes her door as she stands there, squinting in the light.

Alana turns to him, folding her arms as she plants her feet. "Do you think we can convince him how dire the situation is?"

"I will do my best to help him," Hannibal says. "Come," he adds. "Coffee."

Alana hesitates, and then nods, with a watery smile. "Please," she says, to both statements. "And thank you."

"Thank you, for telling me how bad it really is," Hannibal says, holding the door of the café for her.

"Of course," she says, surprise stopping her before she crosses the threshold. "Let me know if there's anything else I can do. As his friend."

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