True to her word, Alana never broaches the topic of his problems. She comes to Quantico regularly now; sometimes she doesn't go back to Georgetown for days. There's a big case- something their keeping from the press. Will doesn't know the details. She doesn't talk about the case with him.
He finds her sitting in the cafeteria most mornings and he sits with her. They discuss everything but the case and his problems. She's quick to smile and has a darker humour than he expects.
The smile starts to fade as the weeks go on. One week she doesn't smile at all.
The next Monday he brings her a chocolate muffin because girls like chocolate and it has serotoninic properties and it's just what friends do.
When he places it in front of her, she looks up, her blue eyes highlighted are by circles too dark to be concealed by makeup. "Am I that pathetic?"
"No." He sits down, eyes on the table. "I remember what it's like. Food helps, if you can eat it." It's the first time he mentions what he used to do.
She doesn't react to his information. "You sound like my friend. He gave me a pointed lecture on the brain's nutritional needs last night. It was very informative. He forgot something though."
"What's that?"
"Chocolate cures all." She picks up the muffin and tears it in half, offering him the bigger half. "That and alcohol."
He takes the offered muffin. "I'm fairly certain that the FBI frowns on drinking on campus. Something about appearances and government funding."
She smiles. "It's one way to get out of work."
He smiles. "I'll keep it in mind."
He doesn't see her for a month. She sends him an email after three days informing him that she's gone interstate on the case. He sends a reply telling her to stay safe. She doesn't reply.
There's a breaking story on every news channel. The FBI has apprehended a serial killer suspected on murdering 10 women across the country. It doesn't take a genius to work out that's the case Alana was working on.
She's in the cafeteria the next day. He sits down, noting the muffin bag on the table. It's from the same place he bought the chocolate muffin from. "You caught him."
"The FBI caught him." She shrugs, wincing slightly. She tries to mask the flicker of pain across her face. "I just helped."
"You got hurt." He can tell it's her ribs by the way she's sitting. She's leaning to the left instead of her usual perfect posture.
"Two fractured ribs. He was a steroid user. He hulked out when I tried to assess him. Conduct Disorder or possible Anti-Social Personality disorder. Jack wouldn't let me back in."
"Which is why you're here instead of in his office filing your report." It's passive aggressiveness at its most obvious. He wonders how comfortable she is with her position to do such a thing. Jack Crawford has a reputation for a bark sharper than a lion's tooth.
"Yep." She nods. "And I owed you." Her phone beeps. She rolls her eyes. "I have to go. It was good to see you again, Will."
"You too." He opens the bag after she leaves. It's a vanilla cupcake. There's a lone candle enclosed in the bag. He remembers with a surprised blink that it's his birthday.
Alana comes to Quantico once a fortnight. She always sits in the same spot in the cafeteria. She never seeks him out. She's letting him set the boundaries. He likes that. He also thinks that she likes the predictability. She knows that he will come to her if he wants to. Which he does. Alana Bloom is the first person he counts as a true friend in a long time.
They compare horror stories about students. They talk about books, his dogs, and philosophy in general. Will thinks this is what a normal friendship is like.
She breaks the pattern when she emails him one night, asking him to meet her at the Starbucks near Quantico the next morning. He replies with an affirmative, curious.
She's waiting for him when he arrives five minutes early. She's jumpy, constantly tracing the logo of the Styrofoam cup in her hand. She meets his eyes but looks away before he can. It's a first for him.
"I've been asked to do a study on you."
He'd been expecting it, the thought niggling his brain like a snake scurrying for warmth. It still hurt. "Oh."
"I said no."
"Why? It would be a coup. There's no one like me." He sounds petulant and bitter to his own ears. He wonders what he sounds like to her, the one who categorises crazy for a living.
"You're my friend. I try not to study my friends. It impacts on the friendship." She seems angry. He can tell that it's not at him but the situation she's been put in. He knows her well enough that she has the morals of a saint. She wouldn't hurt him like this by choice.
"Try not and do not are two different things."
She sighs heavily. "I'm sorry Will."
He smiles tightly. "I'm used to being the new lab rat everyone wants to poke."
"You shouldn't be."
"Should be and are are also two different things." He leaves with a curt goodbye, digging his hands into his coat pockets.
Will doesn't go to the cafeteria the next time she's at Quantico. He goes the next fortnight. She's sitting at the table. There's an awkwardness when he sits down but it fades after she reads out a portion of an essay that had obviously been written the night before after too much caffeine.
Their pattern resumes.