Title: Seeking Comfort, Day 2 of 30 Days of Hannibloom
Fandom: Hannibal
Pairing: Hannibloom
Rating: pg-13
Author's notes: Thanks for charlotteof_denmark for sharing her wonderful idea and prompts with me!

A gunshot rang out, and Alana Bloom threw herself sideways. She heard the whoosh of the bullet as it zoomed past her head, and then the wet smack as it connected with Dr. Chilton's face. She fell from her chair and so did the killer-victim. As she lay on the floor, she found herself staring, enraptured, at the hole in the man's head, and the pool of blood spreading around him. It felt like hours passed as Alana caught her breath on the floor. In reality, mere seconds passed.

Jack Crawford entered the room, helping her to her feet as other agents rushed to Dr. Chilton's aid. She heard the cry of "call 911" as if from a distance, like she was listening to an echo at the end of a long tunnel. She swayed on her feet as Jack held her elbow.

"Easy, Alana, easy." He led her from the room, navigating their path around Frederick's prone body on the floor, surrounded by agents and the spreading pool of blood.

In the hallway, Jack stopped her, leaning her against the wall. She slid halfway down the wall, her elbows coming to rest on her knees.

"Whoa, Dr. Bloom."

She drew a deep breath to steady herself. "I'm okay. I'm okay." She was speaking to herself as much as to Jack Crawford.

"You're okay," Jack confirmed. "Can you walk, Alana? Let's get you somewhere safe and quiet."

She stood, and he hovered behind her, ready to catch her on unsteady feet again if need be. But she was steady and solid, even if the world continued to spin in her eyes.

She followed Jack down the hall to an empty interrogation room. He led her to the table in the center of the room, pulling out the chair for her. She sat and turned to Jack.

Jack said, "You'll be alright here. An agent will be with you shortly to take you statement. Can I get you anything while you wait?"

Alana could tell he itched to get back to the scene. "No," she answered.

He left, and she waited.

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Alana walked from the FBI building in the falling dark after giving her statement. Her heels scraped the concrete as she walked to the parking garage to her car.

Comfort. If there was one thing Alana Bloom needed right now, it was comfort.

She drove to Hannibal Lecter's house.

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She rang the bell. Listening for the muffled patter of his steps as he walked his entryway to open the door, she shifted from one foot to the other. Hannibal opened the door.

"Alana. I wasn't expecting you," he paused and looked back over his shoulder. "Come in."

She entered his home and he closed the door behind her. He took her coat as she apologized, "I'm sorry to show up so late and unexpected. I just…" she paused as she searched for the words to explain what she had witnessed that afternoon.

"Come to my sitting room." He led her through his entryway into an adjacent room. She sat in a large armchair by his blazing fireplace. She leaned into the heat.

"I'll be back in just a moment. Relax, Alana. The words will come to you when you're ready, and I'll be away just briefly," he said, brushing his fingertips against her shoulder.

She listened to the crackle of the fire as she waited for Hannibal's return. When he entered the room with a glass of beer in one hand and a glass of wine in the other, she sighed. He handed her the beer and she took a tentative sip of the familiar ale, Hannibal's special brew.

"What happened? Tell me."

She explained what she had seen, how she was in the interrogation room with Dr. Chilton when he was shot by Miriam Lass. How the bullet passed mere inches from her own head.

"It was horrible, Hannibal." She shuddered as she remembered the scene, picturing it in snapshots of horror in her memories. "The blood…"

He nodded as he poured out a beer for her. "You have never seen someone shot in front of you. The shot passed right by your own head. How did that make you feel, Alana?"

She paused with the beer halfway to her lips. She knew how it made her feel but was ashamed to answer, even though she knew her answer was understandable. "Alive," she whispered. "I felt alive."

"That is to be expected. You saw your own mortality. Never have you seen it so clearly, so vividly."

She nodded. "Miriam Lass is a trained agent. She still has the skill she possessed before she was taken by the Ripper, by Chilton. She couldn't miss him; he was a straight shot. And yet, I keep thinking about if she'd hit me instead."

He took her hand in his. "It is natural to picture one's own death when faced with the possibility of death, when seeing someone else's life depart." Hannibal sipped his wine with one hand as he ran his fingers of the other hand over hers. "You came to my house tonight, seeking comfort. From an old friend, someone you view as a professional equal, and now, a lover. How can I comfort you, Alana?"

Alana pondered the question as she listened to the fire. Her answer was quiet and childlike.

"Hug me," she whispered.

"It would be my great pleasure." Hannibal put down his wine glass and pulled Alana to her feet as he too stood.

He pulled her to him and wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tight to him. His thick, muscular arms rested against her arms and back. She was wrapped in Hannibal Lecter's warm embrace. She sighed and wriggled closer to him, content. He reached one arm up from the small of her back and stroked her dark hair. She let out a little breathy moan.

"You want 'funeral sex' again, Alana?" Hannibal asked.

She smiled for the first time that horrible evening, and kissed him.

Constructive criticism (and/or fawning over my awesomeness, haha) is much appreciated.