A/N: Two things I'd like to make clear as this story proceeds. First, the timeline will vary dramatically from the actual S2 timeline, because it doesn't seem realistic, especially given the flashbacks of S3. Without the "12 weeks earlier" flashback, it could easily encompass a year. Second, I've inserted Ardelia Mapp from the books because 1) she's a wonderful character and 2) Alana needs a female friend. Clarice has been injected into several different characters, and I want to do that now with Alana in a few little ways.
Beyond that, I hope you enjoy this idea I've been toying with for awhile. Apologies if it's a slow start, but these are the obvious plot points that needed establishing.
Disclaimer: These characters are obviously not my creation, and I appropriate them to entertain, though not profit.
"Jennie won't be coming to office hours after all. Looks like a very dull two hours of lecture prep then," Alana lamented to Ardelia as she dropped her phone back into her gym bag. She continued to brush her hair while her colleague and former college roommate finished dressing.
"Good. I'll bring tea and you're going to tell me what's bothering you." The pit in Alana's stomach dropped further and she shoved her yoga pants into her bag more forcefully than necessary.
"Nothing's—"
"You and 'namaste' are light years apart. If its confidential Ripper stuff, then of course I won't pry, but otherwise, your soul needs unburdening." She considered lying again, but it wouldn't help matters by delaying. Besides, despite her occasional flair for the dramatic, she trusted no one to dole out such levelheaded life advice quite like her, so she accepted the offer and pulled her hair into a high bun. There was little need for professionalism now.
The two professors walked back to their offices from the university gym, Ardelia doing an excellent job of filling pre-serious talk time by griping about her TA and committee drama, which did make Alana laugh as she remembered that not all work place disturbances were life or death. Hopefully her life would be a degree more normal in a few days though if Miriam could provide insight into her capture. As Ardelia made one of her grandmother's many occasion teas, Alana posted a sign on her door announcing that she was available for consultation in case any students did actually drop in, and turned on her iPod to stop eavesdropping. Her face was buried in her hands when Ardelia nudged the door shut with her hip, hands full with two steaming mugs. She took a sip of the lemon-chamomile blend, thankful that her friend always stopped the kettle before the water was completely boiled, and resisted the urge to tell Ardelia for the thousandth time to take her feet off her desk. Instead, she mirrored her friend's pose.
"Is Will bothering you now that he's out? You always seemed close but after what happened…" Ardelia trailed off to let Alana answer. She shook her head no. She always advised her patients that simplicity was the easiest place to start, but she found that advice hard to follow.
"I'm pregnant." She dared look over at her friend who nodded gently at her feet. Her lips were pulled into a firm line indicating she was already formulating several plans.
"How do you feel about that? Do you know what you want to do?" She asked the questions gently, not requiring an immediate answer. Alana took another sip of her tea as she let her emotions wash over her.
"I'm frustrated. I hadn't imagined this happening like this. It's really not a good time for either of us to deal with this." A heavy pause. "Scared about telling him… About people finding out." A purposeful sip. "Annoyed that I am feeling things that I've helped patients work through. Besides, I'm not a teenager. I'm 32. This isn't an unusual condition for people our age."
"Well, when trying to make tenure it is, you overachiever." Ardelia dropped her feet to the floor and resumed a more serious attitude. "You're feeling completely legitimate things. You had expectations of this moment, and this isn't it. Even perfectly planned pregnancies can start with fear and anxiety." Alana took comfort in her friend's words even though she objectively knew all this. "When did you find out?"
"Friday."
"As a therapist, I understand you needed to process. As your best friend, I'm appalled you didn't tell me immediately. We could be having this discussion in sweats with ice cream." Alana's laugh turned into sobs and she swiped at the escaping tears. She'd already done this a few times and was determined to stop these spells. Ardelia studied her mug until Alana had control over herself again.
"Will's going to be so mad when he finds out," she said with a last dab at her eyes.
"Forgive me, you know I like the man, but fuck Will for the moment. You have two bigger concerns. First, it sounds like you're currently planning to continue this. Is that right and how confident are you feeling about that?"
"Pretty damn confident. It'll keep me from trying to steal your nieces." While her relationship past was rocky, she'd always wanted children, and in her heart of hearts, she knew this wasn't the worst situation possible even if it was far from ideal. Ardelia nodded, cogs clearly turning.
"Second, I'm assuming it's Hannibal's." Alana nodded, though it was an unnecessary gesture. "Any idea when or how you want to tell him?" She drained the rest of her tea and realized she wouldn't be able to have a stronger drink for another seven to eight months.
"We're supposed to have dinner tomorrow, so sometime then."
"Then come over tonight. Forget papers or whatever, and I'll make you dinner, we'll sing along to Labyrinth, and rehearse what you want to say. I can even put a suit on if it helps!" They shared a laugh and agreed to tacos and movies.
They spent the rest of her office hours going through another three mugs of tea and venting the rest of her mixed up emotions as Ardelia got the name of her sister's ob/gyn and set up Alana's initial appointment. Nothing she did or said was particularly profound, but the acceptance, support, and occasional sarcastic comment made the nervous knot feel a little less toxic. By 4 o' clock as they walked out to their cars, she felt ready for a mostly fun and highly therapeutic night, but a call from Jack ruined everything.
"I need you to come in immediately." She stopped walking and turned away from Ardelia. "We're holding Chilton for the murders of Abel Gideon and two Baltimore officers. I want you to question him." She'd be there in less than an hour. After thanking her friend for her support, she dashed for the nearest Metro station and worked to shift her focus from her personal problems to the larger one at hand. However, the two seemed to merge together. By the time she reached the interrogation room, she was filled with righteous anger. Fredrick Chilton had been there from the start, leading them away from him this whole time. Beyond his numerous victims, he'd made Will's life, Hannibal's life, her life unbearable at times. It seemed so beyond his capabilities, but then, that was the genius of his act. Though now it seemed so clear. She'd get him to say something, indicate something that would let Miriam identify him as her capture and Hannibal's name would be cleared. Will would have to forgive him, and with time, perhaps things could go back to something like before. This could all be over in just a few minutes.
XXX
The next day was spent in much the same way as the previous evening: giving statements to various investigation teams about Miriam's shooting and the brief interview with Chilton, her lengthily work experience with Dr. Chilton, her impressions of Miriam, and spending an hour with another therapist to insure she was not too traumatically scarred from the experience. The truth was, it had happened before she fully registered something had occured. One second, Chilton was declining to speak until his lawyer arrived, and the next, he was falling below the table in a blur of red and shattered glass. His face was obscured by the table even as his hands remained cuffed above, and Zinner and Price were in there to care for him before she could act. After everything she'd read and seen as an FBI consultant, a man being shot in the face was shocking, but not horrifying. In fact, by the time she emerged into the cold, winter evening, she felt numb more than anything else. She drove home cursing every minute of Beltway traffic, fed Applesauce and threw a ball into the snow a few times, and finally sunk into the bath. As the warmth pricked feeling back into her body, she called Ardelia back.
"I saw your class was cancelled. What happened? You all right?" She hummed an affirmative into the phone and set about shaving her legs. It probably wouldn't matter much in the course of the evening considering what lay ahead, but it made her feel more human. "Given the amount of time you had to take off last year for consulting and now already missing class so early in the semester, you need to be careful not to appear flaky. You know how hard the review process is."
"Yes, but Admin should understand that this is a particularly difficult time. The news—"
"I know, but there are a ton of postdocs who would not take a second position. Your resume looks good to a point, but then they start seeing a lack of commitment." Alana sighed and switched to her other leg.
"Can we not talk about this right now? I still have another few hours in this hellish… 36 hours."
"What happened?"
"That's confidential, but you know what tonight is."
"From what you've told me and the few times I've met him, he seems highly composed. He'll probably be shocked, but I can't imagine he'll fly off the wall. But to be safe, wear your red dress. The one you can't wear to work."
"This is a casual dinner and I'm feeling puffy. Listen, I'm actively bathing right now and need to pick up the pace. I'll let you know how it goes." Ardelia wished her luck and hung up. Her thoughts now settled on what would happen. She and Hannibal hadn't seen each other since shortly after Will's release. She figured they'd have plenty to catch up on to take them through dinner, and afterwards, when they were properly relaxed, she could bring this up in a calm, controlled manner. Still, Ardelia's advice wasn't completely wasted, and she plugged in her curling iron and chose a red silk blouse to dress up looser jeans. While Hannibal was not a shallow man and they had years of friendship predating this affair, it wouldn't hurt to dress up. A bit of make up, a few waves in her hair, and she felt as ready as she'd ever be. Her hands barely shook as she drove, and with a little extra speed, she was right on time.
She'd barely knocked before Hannibal opened the door with a gust of garlic and rosemary. "Good evening, Alana." The sight of him in his apron with pushed up sweater sleeves both relaxed and calmed her, and she reminded herself to act natural. It shouldn't be this hard. She returned his smile and kissed him when the door closed against the cold.
"Dinner smells amazing." He helped her out of her coat and she felt his gaze linger just long enough for her liking. So far, so good.
"I hope you don't mind I started cooking without you. Jack told me what happened yesterday, so I thought you might prefer to relax." That knot tightened with guilt as she followed him to the kitchen.
"I appreciate that, but really, I'm fine. It's nothing he didn't deserve." Hannibal gave her a pointed look as he gave frying potatoes a quick stir.
"You're so confident he's the Chesapeake Ripper? Even with my finger print among the evidence?" He walked towards the fridge. This was something she'd wrestled with last night. He was supposed to be considered innocent until proven guilty, but Miriam had essentially proven that guilt in her mind. She didn't want to say it felt good to know he was tasting the smallest bit of his own medicine, but then she remembered that night at the pool. Though Will technically orchestrated that nightmare, it was in pursuit of Chilton and she'd rather him ultimately take the blame.
"The physical evidence is overwhelmingly against him. He fits the psychological profile, and it would be like the Ripper to frame someone else. Oh…" she trailed off as Hannibal opened a growler of her special beer. "I shouldn't drink tonight."
"Shouldn't?" She bit the side of her tongue as she tried to think of an equally truthful excuse.
"It's been a long day, and I feel that might put me to sleep more than anything." He gave her a comforting smile and traded the jug with a bottle of sparkling water instead.
"That's probably wise for both of us. I too had an exciting evening by a very different definition." Despite her curiosity, she didn't press for detail as he turned off the stove, covered the pan, and removed his apron. "The chicken should be ready soon. Salad and bread are already on the table." Grabbing the water bottle and her glass, she followed him into the dining room where salad was indeed plated in their usual spots. They both settled in, buttered rolls, and took a few bites of course one before he continued. "Will came to his session last night." She lowered her fork and swallowed with a now-dry mouth.
"To resume therapy or to threaten you?" Hannibal seemed to find this amusing as he chuckled into his water glass, which sparked a frustration deep in her chest. Even as he wore the marks of Will's attack, he found mirth in her concern.
"The former. There is still tension between us. He betrayed me and in his mind, I am not yet innocent. But I believe with time, renewed trust building, and if you'll allow me, my own expertise, we may be able to reach a new sense of peace and normality. These are strange events we must all heal from in our own way." There was truth in his words and it calmed her slightly. With the truth revealed, healing could start. Especially with new beginnings on the horizon. Her face grew warm with a burst of nerves and she wasn't sure if Hannibal looked suspicious or if she was projecting.
"I have faith in your skills, and you know I hope it all works out. But please be careful."
"I always am." The timer beeped from the kitchen and Alana finished her salad as Hannibal plated the main course of chicken, potatoes, beets, and greens. Their new course of conversation matched the simplicity and comfort of the dish. He asked after her classes and she relayed her latest frustrations with journal publishers, which he offered assistance with. This was familiar and relaxing. They hadn't talked like this in a long time as Will's arrest and trial hung over them like a thick fog. Long after the plates are cleaned, he had her belly laughing as he related his own early publishing nightmares. "There is a reason I didn't pursue academia." She took a long drink when she was no longer having fits and removed the napkin from her lap.
"It'll be worth it eventually." She stood and took his plate. "I'll clean up if you make coffee to go with whatever dessert is."
"And what if you are dessert?" The glint in his eye and that small, predatory smile brought a flush to her cheeks, but she rose to the challenge.
"Then I still pair well with coffee." She let him grab her for another kiss, but pulled away before it could get too heated. Her confidence wavered as she turned away, but her voice felt steady as she called back, "But I did see two bowls in the fridge and I'm dying to know what you really have planned." Her composure was back in place by the time he brought the rest of the dishes to the kitchen for her to load into the dishwasher while he set the kettle to boil and ground coffee beans. They worked in companionable silence and when she finished before him, she took a moment to admire the man before her. He moved with a self-assurance that felt neither rehearsed nor pretentious, but graceful and fluid. Perhaps akin to a dancer. He likely could have been one in another life. Her eyes watched his long fingers curl around the kettle handle as he filled the French press. Would their child have his musician's hands or her builder's ones? Regardless, if he chose to be involved, they'd likely be in piano or violin lessons before the age of five. Her heart rate picked up and she feels her palms grow damp.
The scent of brewing coffee hit her like a wall of acidic bitterness and she ran to the living room struggling to breath and not vomit. She'd read about this happening, but it was still surprising that something she loved so much could smell so repulsive. The scent lingered in her nose and she gagged into her hand.
She was hunched over taking deep breaths when Hannibal reached her. "What just happened? Are you feeling all right?" She trembled under his touch and refused to meet his gaze with watering, possibly teary eyes. "Talk to me, Alana. What do you need? What can I do for you?" He guided her to the sofa and held the hand clutching her knee as she tried to speak.
"I need to tell you something." Her voice only shook a little. Hannibal went still. He never froze, she'd learned, but he took on a cat-like stillness when he worked through problems. This one couldn't be too hard to solve. "But then, you've already guessed it, haven't you? Not drinking, new adverse reactions to food, I'd even believe you can smell something different about me." He didn't speak or move, but when she looked at him, she didn't see anger. She couldn't guess what he was feeling, but she was certain anger was not it. "I want to go through with this, but I also don't plan to make demands of you. I know this changes things between us, for our friendship, our working relationship, and whatever these past two months have been. I don't know how, but I do hope in the coming weeks we can try to figure it out." He still didn't speak as he released her hand and turned slightly to look at the fireplace. She was definitely crying now. "Unless of course, you already know your preferences, which I… I will respect out of a deep respect for you."
"Oh, Alana." His expression was still a mystery as he looked at her, but his voice was gentle. He laid his arm across the back of the couch between them and wiped a tear from her cheek with his thumb. "I saw something bothered you as soon as I opened the door, but I couldn't have guessed until now. How long have you let this gnaw at you?" She leaned into his hand.
"Almost a week. Once I'd come to terms with it myself, tonight was already planned." He gave a small nod, almost careless by his standards.
"That makes sense. You can't be more than six, seven weeks along. It was only that first night we were careless." That was her thinking too. "Who else knows?"
"Only Ardelia. She trapped me during office hours." A slight grin cracked his expression for just a second.
"Yes, Dr. Mapp does seem capable of that. For the time being, as it's so early and situations so tentative, I'd ask you to exercise discretion in those you inform. In particular, Will and Jack don't need to know for awhile." She could respect that. They sat in silence for only the fireplace and the rustling, bare branches outside to fill. He was clearly processing and she was accepting that the very worst had not happened. Regardless of what the next months brought, she would be grateful that he hadn't turned her out immediately. When her heart slowed and her tears were dried, she broke the silence.
"How do you feel about this?"
"Such a cliché line, Dr. Bloom." He took a deep breath and shifted to look at her directly. Their knees rested together. "At this point, I assumed fatherhood was not in my future. I was like a father to my sister for a time. I thought I might be one to Abigail." He paused to think further. "Even knowing the risk, I find I'm surprised even more than I could expect… or like to be." His voice had dropped into a low gravelly whisper as if he spoke to himself. Before her nervousness could return, his gaze commanded her full attention. "However, I am not disappointed." A great weight lifted off her shoulders and she felt she could truly breath easily for the first time in months. He seemed to read her relief and relaxed with her, though not the same extent he was earlier. "You're correct that we have much to figure out, but I think neither of us should say more about the future tonight while emotions are still raw."
"I hadn't quite gotten this far in my head, so I can't disagree." To ensure they were on the same page entirely, she told him of her doctor's appointment next week, but neither made any comment about him attending. Instead, he pulled her against his shoulder and kissed the top of her head.
"I can't offer you dessert since it's tiramisu, but if you care to continue with our evening, you're welcome to stay." She met him with a kiss as response. The love they made that night was intangibly different, but as Alana fell asleep between dark satin sheets, she wouldn't say that it was a bad difference.