I'll be upfront and honest with you. I don't know when or how often this story will be updated. As with all my previous stories, this is spur-of-moment. This is my first story that's not oneshots or drabbles.

Spoilers for the season two finale. Do we even need to warn for season two spoilers anymore? They're mixed in with my strange canon divergence. Fair warning: I'm completely messing with the timeline. And plenty of other stuff. In this Margot and Will never got pregnant. Hannibal doesn't gut Will when it all goes down at his house, he injures him in another way because I need Will able-bodied for this fic. Molly will not appear, neither will anything from Red Dragon.

I own nothing except my little OC.

Alana rubbed her stomach absently in Hannibal's waiting room. Her insides bubbled anxiously. She definitely hadn't wanted this, but now that it had happened, she felt indistinctly peaceful. She didn't know if the peace came from having a new, perfect life growing inside her, or her decision.

Abortion wasn't an option. She dealt with so many killers; innocent people were too often taken out of this world. She couldn't contribute.

She'd called ahead to let Hannibal know she was coming with something important to discuss. She gave up trying to put her words together beforehand halfway to his office.

It wouldn't be easy. Alana herself had felt she had no time for a child. Hannibal, nearly fifty, was, admittedly, a little old to begin raising a baby. Stressed as she was, Alana chuckled to herself at the mental imagine of Hannibal getting up at three in the morning to change a crying infant.

The door opened and Hannibal peered out, hair combed perfectly as always, and suit immaculate. Her smiled when he saw Alana.

"Hello. You sounded worried on the phone." His voice was calm and even as always, although a slight worry glinted in his eyes.

Alana felt some tension melt out of her shoulders simply from being in his presence. He opened the door wider for her and she entered the dimly light office.

She took a seat on the comfortable futon. Hannibal sat next to her, took her hand in his, and gently waited for her to speak on her own.

Alana wouldn't let herself get absorbed in the motion of Hannibal's thumb rubbing back and forth across the back of her hand. "Hannibal," she began, trying to force it out. Well. It would only be worse to drag it out. "I'm pregnant."

Hannibal's eyes glassed over. He wasn't seeing her. He was lost somewhere in his own inner workings.

"I know we didn't plan this, Hannibal," Alana continued. She'd started so she might as well keep going. "And this isn't the best time in either of our lives, but I'm going to keep the baby. I would like you to be involved-"

"Alana," Hannibal interrupted, catching her eyes. "This is... Wonderful," he said, face splitting into a toothy grin. "Ever since Abigail," he paused, composing himself, "I have toyed with the idea of raising a child of my own in my head." He leaned in to gently reassure her with a kiss. "Now, this could be a bit early, but would you like to talk baby names?"

Rain splattered gently across her face, but it wasn't uncomfortable. Alana couldn't tell if it was warm or cold. In fact, laying on the ground in front of Hannibal's house, Alana couldn't feel anything.

Hannibal. Abigail. Will. Jack. Windows. Bloody floors and missing bullets. Was anything she believed true? Had the fall hurt her baby?

Alana prayed her baby was okay as blue lights began flashing and a vague siren cry filled her ears.

Hannibal knew this was probably foolish, but the chances he would be caught were low. Bedelia was waiting for him at the airport and this shouldn't be long. It would be a while yet before his face was out and the manhunts were on. Even with this small detour he would out of the country in plenty of time.

He really did hope Alana wasn't dead. The world was better with her in it. However, Hannibal's true concern was for his child. He mentally berated himself for the poor planning. The baby was at 36 weeks, being born now would leave it with no lasting health problems. Hannibal predicted Alana would go into early labor if she'd survived.

Hannibal approached the front desk, making sure to pant like he'd been running. "What room is Alana Bloom in?" his voice sounded perfectly worried.

I though maybe if I ended it on a cliffhanger I'd be tempted to finish the next chapter quicker. Sorry this is so short, but I'm laying the foundation. We're getting into the fun stuff now.