Title: A Lucid Moment, Day 25 of 30 Days of Hannibloom
Fandom: Hannibal
Pairing: Hannibloom
Rating: nc-17
Author's notes: I felt like we definitely needed at least one more porny chapter before this ends, right? So it only gets porny at the end, but that's hopefully enough. We're getting close to the end, folks! Ahhh!

"Dr. Bloom, Dr. Bloom!" Chloe cried out as she bounded into Alana's office, livelier than usual. Alana laughed and playfully tried to catch Chloe, who giggled and bounced away from her. Alana then turned her attention to Chloe's mother. She was disturbed to see tears in the woman's eyes.

"Mrs. Vang, are you alright?"

The tall blonde woman shook her head and whispered, "No." Alana motioned for her to take a seat. Then she stepped outside and asked her secretary, Natasha, to watch Chloe. She handed Chloe a deck of Go Fish cards and told her to teach Natasha how to play, since she'd taught Chloe a few weeks previously. Chloe trilled, "Okay!" and skipped from the room, oblivious to her mother's plight.

Alana sat across from Chloe's mother. Lauren Vang reached for the tissues Alana kept next to her patient's chair on a table and wiped at her eyes. Alana waited for the woman to speak.

"Her uncle was murdered two nights ago. I can't say I'm upset because of what he did to Chloe, but this morning…" she burst into tears and couldn't continue. Alana's heart went out to the woman across from her. She certainly had suffered, finding out that her daughter was sexually abused by her brother-in-law and now, having a murder in the family. Even if Alana agreed that the murder of a pedophile wasn't necessarily the worst tragedy. Alana waited as Mrs. Vang cried, a look of sympathy and caring on her face. When Mrs. Vang calmed down, her voice was hoarse as she said, "They arrested my husband for the murder this morning. Chloe doesn't know yet."

She reached out and Alana leaned forward and grasped her hand. "How do I tell Chloe?"

Alana answered, "We'll tell her together."

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Alana felt emotionally drained from her session with Chloe and her mother, but she still had duties to the FBI to attend to. She walked into Jack's office, where he and Will were discussing a new case. When she walked in, Will's eyes darted to the door. When he saw that it was her, his eyes moved to the floor; he still refused to make eye contact with her since finding out that she'd married Hannibal.

"Fill me in," she stated to Jack.

"We were just discussing a possible new Ripper victim. As you know, the Ripper has been dormant for the past few months, and we're not sure why. Then, this vic turns up. Local police have arrested the vic's brother for the murder, but then they discovered organs missing. They want to know if they have the right man, naturally."

"It's the Ripper. And this one, this Ripper murder, is personal," Will interjected.

Jack countered, "There's no…art…to this victim's death. That isn't like the Ripper."

Will paced back and forth in front of Jack's desk. "It's the Ripper. I know it, Jack."

Jack turned to Alana and said, "I want your opinion, Alana. Let's go to the lab, so you can see the victim." He handed a manilla folder to her. "The case file." Then he walked from his office, expecting them to follow. They did. Alana walked a few paces behind Jack and Will, perusing the case file. The first page was a picture of the victim. The second page was his demographic information. She read the name at the top of the sheet: Martin Vang.

Alana stopped in the middle of the long hallway, reeling. Chloe's uncle, a Ripper victim? But they'd arrested her father for it. Yet Will was convinced that the Ripper was responsible. And he'd said it was personal.

She remembered how Hannibal had tensed as he listened to Chloe's story. She'd told him that Chloe's uncle had molested her.

Will thought the Chesapeake Ripper was Hannibal.

"He couldn't know. He didn't know Chloe's name, much less her uncle's. I never told him," she thought desperately.

Will noticed that she had stopped walking. He looked at her for the first time in a long time, his face puzzled. She imagined she was utterly pale as her mind fought to convince itself yet again that Hannibal could not be the ripper. "Alana?" he questioned.

Jack stopped walking too, and they both rushed back to her. "Oh yeah, definitely feeling faint," Alana thought, as Jack placed a steadying hand on her arm.

"I can't…I can't consult on this case." She paused and swallowed the spit that was pooling in her mouth. "I have a personal connection to the victim."

"Did you know him?" Jack asked.

"That's confidential," she answered. She couldn't break her patient's confidentiality, but she did not feel it was her place to consult on the case of Chloe's uncle's murder.

Jack nodded and let go of her arm. "You're going to be alright, Alana?"

She nodded her head and turned around. As she rushed down the hall, she could hear ringing in her ears and Jack saying, "We'll call in Dr. Lecter." And then Will arguing against it. She ignored their argument as her mind raced. She had to get home. She had to get home before she was sick.

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She chopped celery for the stew she was making. Her hand was no longer shaky as she chopped. She'd spent the last hour convincing herself that there was no way Hannibal could be the Chesapeake Ripper. She had not married a cannibal. She was not in love with a serial killer.

She convinced herself yet again, and she was sure of her conviction. Then Hannibal walked in the door.

She felt his strong arms wrap around her from behind. "What are you cooking, Ms. Bloom?"

She dropped the knife and turned in his arms. She gave him a quick peck on the lips and asked, "Don't you mean, 'Mrs. Lecter?'"

His eyes reflected the overhead lights in the kitchen, brilliant points of light in each pupil. "Indeed I do," he stated, as he lifted her in his strong arms. She wrapped her legs around his waist. She laughed as he started carrying her out of the kitchen. "I need you," he growled at her laughter. She stopped laughing as an erotic shiver went down her spine, like it did every time she heard Hannibal's growl.

He carried her upstairs, steady and sure on his feet even with all the added front-weight. She felt comfortable and loved in his arms. But she also felt immensely turned-on; just a touch from Hannibal turned her body into a live wire just begging to be felt.

When they got to her bedroom, he dumped her unceremoniously on the bed, where she bounced a few times. She gasped and said, "Rude, Dr. Lecter!"

Then he was on top of her, his body pressed against hers as he devoured her mouth. Rarely was Hannibal like this. He was always passionate, always a talented lover, but rarely did he lose himself in her; he was so controlled. She felt her panties dampen with excitement.

His hands were all over her; running up her sides, causing her to break out in goosebumps. He nearly tore her shirt off of her, and actually did cause a small rip in her bra as he pulled it from her body.

"I'm sorry, dearest," he whispered against her neck as he palmed her breasts.

"Ughhh…it's okay…more!" She gasped as his fingers starting tweaking her nipples. She brought her hips up and grinded against him. His erection was tenting his pants, so hard pressed up against her, but there were too many clothes in the way of what she really wanted. So she shoved him back.

He was breathing hard as he stared at her, puzzlement in his eyes. She quickly shimmied out of her pants and underwear and then grabbed his tie. He got the hint, and with steady hands, he removed his clothing. With hungry eyes, she watched him shed his shirt last, his dripping erection peeking out from beneath the hem.

She beckoned him to her, and he climbed on top of her. He spread her legs forcefully and then entered her in one quick thrust. She cried out. Hannibal thrust into her hard, then pulled out all the way to the tip, then thrust into her again. And again. And again. He rode her, sweat dripping off his body onto hers. She tilted her head back, feeling the sensation of his thick cock penetrating her. Every time he pulled out all the way, she cried out.

Then he reached up one hand and wrapped it around her neck. One time near the beginning of their relationship, she'd asked him to choke her, and he'd responded enthusiastically. She moaned while she could, until she felt increasing pressure cut off her breath.

In her light-headed state, her mind wandered. Images flashed through her mind.

She saw Miriam Lass, and the body in the park. She saw the burnt body she'd thought was Hannibal Lecter on the lab's cold metal exam table. She saw Simon Mason, bleeding out on her floor after Hannibal stabbed him. She saw Martin Vang, his neck blue from being strangled, and realized his name was in her patient notes, which Hannibal could have looked at.

Finally, she looked up at her husband and saw Hannibal's eyes as he choked her just to the point of blacking out. He looked like he had when he'd licked the knife. He looked like a monster.

She shuddered around Hannibal's cock as she came hard.

The puzzle pieces came together, and Alana wondered how she'd denied it for so long: Hannibal was the Chesapeake Ripper. She could no longer deny it.

Her orgasm rocked through her, and she felt tears welling at the corners of her eyes as Hannibal's hands left her neck. She felt his cock spew warm liquid inside of her.

Her husband was a cannibalistic serial killer.

The most terrifying thing in the world can be a lucid moment.

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