Please remember to review, and thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed so far! It does mean a lot to me :) Thanks for the favourites and follows as well.

I should probably mention that the point at which the storyline deviates from the original plotline is just after 'Fromage'. Also, Alana is tired and she isn't thinking straight, so if she acts a little strange during this chapter, that's the reason.

The events of this chapter were some of the first ideas to come into my mind when I first started writing this fic, and they're some of the things I've been most looking forwards to writing. (Even so, I did get a bit of writer's block whilst writing this..) So, more than the others, I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Disclaimer: Characters are taken from NBC's show 'Hannibal' and thus Thomas Harris' novel 'Red Dragon'. Nothing is mine, and this is purely for entertainment purposes only. A couple of sentences from this chapter are taken from the Hannibal episode 'Fromage'.

CHAPTER THREE

Alana was alone.

It was nearly ten o'clock, and she was sitting in her living room staring blankly at the wall. Strange patterns emerged in the patterned wallpaper – the shape of a face here, a forest there, a gun over by the door...

Alana blinked, and the patterns merged. The face, unrecognisable among the roses that decorated the wallpaper, was the killer. The sound of a gunshot echoed in her ears, and although it was only the memory of the sound, it felt real to her. And the entire room formed the forest, trees formed out of blood-red roses, ghostlike, transparent bodies scattering the floor. George's. Laura's. Mia's.

Mia.

Mia wasn't dead, Alana reminded herself. They would find Mia alive. Will would find her. Will could find any killer, any kidnapper, and if they found him...they would find Mia.

Alana wished she could reassure Mia. She wanted to tell her that people were looking, that she was going to be found, that her Aunt Alana wouldn't rest until she was safe again...

Mia had to feel so alone.

Oh, damn Mia! Alana was alone. Her parents had passed away many years ago, her cousins had moved to all corners of the world and had never bothered to contact her. And now George. She had no family left.

As soon as she thought that, Alana felt guilty. Mia was her family, and, to her, it felt like finding Mia should be her biggest priority. It felt like that should be the only thing she thought about until Mia was found.

Logically, she knew that she had a right to mourn George. She knew that the human heart was essentially selfish, and she was human. She had lost her brother. She had lost her sister-in-law. She had so little room in her heart for anything other than grief.

And Mia was only missing, and Alana needed space to mourn George and Laura, because they were dead, and in the mere hours since she'd stood in that doorway watching Will's lecture about this particular killer's latest victims, she felt almost as if she had forgotten George and Laura in the urgency of needing to find Mia.

Alana's head was a hurricane of thought and emotion, and the hurricane was only getting more destructive, ripping through her brain without any thought as to the damage it was causing.

She shook her head a little, as if that would help somehow, and stared at her hands. She hadn't realised how utterly alone it was possible for one person to feel.

.

"Will."

Will stared. He was in his underwear. It was only half an hour until midnight, and he had been lying in bed, trying to think, when he'd heard a knock at his door.

He'd opened the door, forgetting that he wasn't exactly wearing something decent and he had no idea who would be knocking at his door at this hour of the night, and there he had found -

"Alana," he greeted her.

There was a ring of redness around her eyes, indicating that she'd been crying, and her makeup was smudged in several places. She looked at Will, silent, not knowing how to explain precisely why she'd turned up at his house.

"Come in," Will offered, and she followed him into his house. Winston plodded over to her as they sat down on Will's couch, and Alana automatically reached out to stroke him. He pushed his head into her hand, as if asking for more.

"Sorry for waking you up," Alana apologized, gesturing towards Will's outfit.

She was about to say something else, but Will spoke before she could. "It's fine," he told her. He thought carefully about the wording of his next sentence before he said: "Alana, why are you here?"

He said it gently, so as not to make her think she was unwelcome, but she thought about her answer for so long that he began to think he might have had that effect.

"I guess," she said eventually, "I didn't want to be alone."

Will closed his eyes. He didn't want her to feel alone, either, but what was there he could do about it? He reached out to wrap an arm around her shoulders, hoping it would be enough despite the fact he knew it would be nowhere near.

He felt her head drop against his shoulder. "Will," she said, and her tone was close to the one she'd used a week before. The way that I am in relationships...this is just a kiss...the way I am isn't compatible with the way you are..

"This isn't anything," he promised her, but even as he said the words, he turned towards her. She was already looking at him, her head having left the pillow of his shoulder already, her eyes wet – had Will even seen them dry since he'd seen her in the ladies' toilets? He didn't think so – and the expression on her face somehow reminded him of his dogs when he left the house each morning.

Her lips were inches from his, and both their eyes were wide open, taking in the other's expression. Alana's eyes were round, desperate, searching for some kind of relief from her pain.

Will wanted it. More than anything, he wanted to lean towards her so their lips brushed together, he wanted to push his mouth against hers, feel her skin against his.

And she wanted it, too. He could see that in her eyes. She craved it like a drug, a painkiller for everything that had happened in the last few days. She craved an escape, however brief, from the fact that her brother was dead, her niece missing. She wanted relief.

He wanted to kiss her, just to kiss her. Because she was there, and she was very kissable, and maybe a little – but only a little - because he wanted to help her somehow, and he couldn't think of a way to do that except do something, anything, more than he was already doing.

She wanted to kiss him because she craved a way to forget, even for just a moment, everything she was going through.

And in the end, that was why he pulled away. Because they both wanted very different things.

He was sure that sanctuary wasn't the only reason she was here. He was sure that wasn't the only reason why she would have kissed him, had he let her, just a moment ago. They had kissed before, once. She had let him kiss her.

A moment later, he felt Alana's head on his shoulder again. He didn't have to wonder what the pause was for – it was disappointment, mixed in with a moment of doubt.

They stayed in that position for a while, until well after Alana's eyes had closed and she had drifted off to sleep, and Will was left to wonder what she was dreaming about. Then, as gently as he could, he slipped off the couch, settling her head on a pillow, and went back through to his bedroom.

.

"Will," Hannibal said, "it's five a.m."

"I want to be back before Alana wakes up," Will explained, though of course Hannibal had no idea what he was talking about. He pushed past the psychiatrist into the large office.

"I trust you are going to explain that statement," Hannibal pressed as he shut the door and turned to where Will was already pacing the office, an unreadable expression on his face.

He paused for a moment, and looked at Hannibal. "She came to my house last night. She said she didn't want to be alone." He resumed his pacing, restless, his feet creating a steady thud, thud sound across the floor. "She's sleeping on my couch."

Hannibal raised his eyebrows, thinking for a moment before he said, "Is it her you wanted to talk to me about?"

Will nodded, not bothering to speak, as he bit his lip. "I almost kissed her again." He glanced back at Hannibal. "Almost."

Hannibal calmly walked towards the seat nearest to the door. "Tell me about it."

Will came to a permanent stop and looked out of the window. "She was sitting on the couch, next to me, right after she came."

He was silent for a while, working out how to phrase the next part. Hannibal waited patiently.

"She – or I, I don't know who started it – we were about to kiss," Will continued, speaking more slowly now. "But she... She looked like she was just looking for some kind of medicine. And I wanted to kiss her, but it felt like that would be... wrong, I guess."

Hannibal took a moment to consider Will's words before he spoke again. "You did the right thing, Will," he said.

"I wanted to kiss her," he admitted. "I wanted to help her."

Hannibal looked directly at Will, who had started pacing again, his movements somehow desperate. "Kissing her would not have helped her."

Will was silent. The only noise in the room was the quiet thud, thud of his feet against the floor. Thud, thud. Thud, thud. Thud, thud. Like a heartbeat.

"Alana is not in the state of mind to start a relationship right now," Hannibal said. "And, in any case, it is not your responsibility to help her."

Will ground his teeth together, almost growling at Hannibal. "I want to help her."

"You have yourself to take care of," Hannibal reminded him.

Will looked down, stopping his pacing by the chair opposite Hannibal and gripping the back of it tightly. Hannibal watched as Will's nails ripped into the fabric.

"I feel a...an obligation to help Alana," Will said.

"She is not your responsibility," Hannibal countered. He waited for a second or two, but Will did not say anything else, so he continued. "Although, I did think you were trying to help by catching this killer."

Will shook his head. "We have nothing," he told Hannibal. "Absolutely nothing. There's no leads, nothing we didn't already know from the last two killings."

"Tell me what you know," Hannibal requested.

So Will did. "All the victims lived in Winchester, Virginia, and were found around seven miles east of Cumberland, also in Virginia. The first victims were the Walker family five years ago, then the Manesh family three years ago, and then the Blooms. Each family had a teenage daughter; the parents were killed and the daughter taken."

Will stopped, finally sitting down in the chair. Hannibal was still watching him carefully.

"There is nothing else?" Hannibal questioned. "What did you get from the crime scene?"

Will hesitated. "I told Jack," he began, "that the killer knew his victims."

"You told Jack," Hannibal echoed. "That implies that you don't believe that."

Will turned to stare out of the window – further away from him now that he was sitting down – and frowned. "I did when I told him," he said. "That was before I knew it was Alana's family. Now..." He paused, finding the words. "I think maybe it was just me subconsciously recognising Alana's features in George Bloom."

"That is possible," Hannibal agreed.

.

Alana woke up in an empty house.

"Will?" she called out, groggily. There was no reply.

Probably sleeping, she thought, pushing herself off the couch. She glanced around – the hole above Will's fireplace was still there, unfixed after the day of their first kiss.

The memory of that kiss was clear in Alana's mind, from a happier time than now, although it had only been a week or so ago. Lots could happen in a week.

Last night was not so clear. Tired and lonely, she had arrived at Will's house in the darkness. She could only vaguely remember driving – the memory darted away from her every time she tried to grab it. She remembered Will guiding her to the couch, and something in her hand...

A couple of Will's dogs were up, already waiting by their food bowls for Will to feed them. A smallish brown one barked at Alana, much more loudly than his small frame suggested he was capable of.

And she remembered Will pulling away from her, right after that almost-kiss.

"Will?" she called again, stumbling over to his bedroom door and knocking on it. It swung open under her touch, and she could see into the room.

Will's bed was empty.

"Will?" she called again. "Will!"

Alana took a deep breath, trying to force herself to accept she was alone. Will had gone. He had pulled away from that kiss last night, and now he had left her alone when he knew the only reason she had come here was so she didn't have to be alone.

"Will!"

She sank down on the couch again, feeling the cushions beneath her sweat-covered skin as she lay down.

"Will?" she muttered, almost silent now.

George and Laura were gone, dead, and she would never see them again.

Mia was gone, somewhere unknown, in danger, most likely hurt, possibly dead. No. Not dead. Mia wasn't dead.

And now Will, too, had left her.