Alana looked upset. Her mouth curved downward and she had her arms folded protectively in front of her. It was just the two of them at home, not counting the dogs, but Will could sense a third presence. As Will walked over to where Alana stood, she looked up at him and he saw tears in her eyes.
"He's everywhere, Will. Every time I turn a corner or switch on a light I'm worried he'll be standing in front of me," Alana said before Will even had to ask.
He knew what Alana meant. It had been one year since Hannibal escaped, leaving everyone dying in his home, and they were all still trying to pick up the pieces. The thought of Abigail ripped him apart, and even after months of recovery Will could still feel the linoleum knife cut through his belly. Alana often woke up from nightmares. Nightmares of falling, of drowning in rain or poison. Will knew Jack was haunted, too. He could see the heaviness the man carried on his shoulders.
"We could leave. We could go someplace new, where we don't have to fear him so much," Will responded, grasping for a way to comfort Alana.
"You and I both know we can't leave, not while we're still needed," Alana stated with sad determination.
Will put his arms around her. She leaned into him, pressing her face to his chest. He tightened his hold, clinging on to whatever stability Alana gave him, to whatever comfort he gave her. Will rested his cheek on Alana's head and closed his eyes. They both held each other for a long time, neither one wanting to give up the safety they felt in each others arms.