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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"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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