Sessions Chapter 3: Session Three, a hannibal fanfic

"Hello, Doctor Lecter, it's Ana de Witte... I was wondering if there was anyway I could meet with you this evening - if not, I understand. I just feel like I'm going out of my mind and I'm not sure I can handle it. Thursday, 3:37 PM."

"You have no new messages and one old message-Hello, Doctor Lecter, it's Ana de Witte... I was wondering if there was anyway I could meet with you this evening - if not, I understand. I just feel like I'm going out of my mind and I'm not sure I can handle it. Thursday, 3:37 PM."

He rapped the tips of his fingers against the desk several times. The wood made a deep, quiet thud while his digits rolled across the surface. Hannibal pursed his lips in some measure; it was now 7:45 PM and he had made it a point to not call Ana. She had sounded anxious on the phone, scared to be alone with herself, with her thoughts. However, Hannibal was fairly certain Ana could handle it on her own - as she had for such a long time before meeting him - but now she had an anchor, now she had someone to open up to, and he wanted to know how she would react when the anchor was no longer there.

Hannibal played the message one last time while he gathered papers in their respective files. He had lost count of the number of times he listened to Ana's message without concern that day, but during the final listen, a sudden, sullen glower crossed his face for a fleeting moment. He brushed the thought away and continued to collect his belongings.

When all his books were stowed away and files placed in his desk, Hannibal donned his overcoat and switched his desk light off. In the newly darkened area of office, the faint, red light from the answering machine glowed brighter, a little number "1" being displayed. Hannibal lowered at the tiny number before he turned the light back on and added a note to his schedule for the morning:

Call Ana in morning

With that he erased the message, turned out the light, and definitively headed for home.

There was a balmy breeze that came from the inland and mixed with the cool, dewy air of the Chesapeake Bay creating thick, unseasonably warm winds. Ana always thought that these nights felt like velvet on the skin, soft and luxuriant. They didn't calm or comfort her tonight though.

She dragged on her cigarette before checking the time; it was nearly eight o'clock and she didn't know what to do. She took another drag from the cigarette and rubbed her temples. There wasn't any point in being there, it wasn't going to change anything. Ana flicked her cigarette away and pushed herself off of the brick partition, taking a moment to gaze up at the stars before she headed out.

"Hello, Ana, what brings you here so late at night?"

Ana pivoted on her heal, gravel crunching underfoot. She and Hannibal stood a few meters apart, eyes fixed on each other. Her right hand was bandaged tightly but there were still blood stains on her skin. She studied his face for a moment but couldn't gage his reaction.

"I punched and subsequently smashed a $1,600 mirror. Then I was kicked out of my dance company apparently those sort of 'shenanigans' - as they called it - are frowned upon."

"Why did you punch the mirror in the first place?" Hannibal asked calmly, placing his belongings in the trunk of his car.

"I thought it was a better idea than punching a person. It wasn't. I'm almost positive there are still shards of glass in my hand but the area is such a mess that I can't tell where they are." Ana sighed, approaching her therapist.

"May I?" Hannibal asked, extending a hand to Ana. She lifted the wounded hand, showing the poorly bandaged knuckles and the blood ready to seep through the gauze at any moment.

"It's still bleeding quite a lot." Hannibal stated, closing the trunk. He took a few steps to the passenger side and opened the door. Ana cocked her head slightly and narrowed her eyes, his expression hadn't changed throughout their whole conversation.

"I was a surgeon long before I was a therapist. I don't have the proper tools to mend your hand here, but I do at my house."

Ana eyed Hannibal looking for any flinch or twitch that aroused suspicion but she still couldn't find a single change in his expression. She contemplated whether that was comforting or disconcerting for a moment, before striding over to the passenger side.

"You looked worried for a moment." Hannibal noted.

"I was. After all, I've never spent time with you outside the capacity of our professional relationship and no one knows I'm with you." Ana said as she entered the car, "But I do have a penchant for the macabre, as you know." She added with a coquettish grin before Hannibal closed the car door.