#;alana

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[ MORNING AFTER ]: sender and receiver wake up together for the first time after a night of passion. (Alana & Margot)

That is certainly...not how Alana expected her night to turn out. Not that she's really complaining, not at all, but it feels...hm, what's the word? Bordering on unprofessional. Then again, she feels like any professionalism she ever had was thrown out the window the second she started using Mason to get Hannibal killed. As she stares at the ceiling, she thinks how funny it is how things have turned out. For the first time in a while, too, she doesn't have any pain. Her hips don't scream every time she makes any little movement.

Funny.

She blinks, pulling herself out of her thoughts as Margot stirs next to her. Alana lets out a breath and reaches over to gently brush her hair out of her face. "...Hi," is all she really manages to say (what else can she say?). "Um...good morning?" Smooth, Alana.

She clears her throat and sits up, pushing a hand through her hair. "How'd you sleep?"

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[ stranger ] sender desperately asks receiver, a stranger, for help with something. for alana !

You're the only one I can turn to || Accepting

"Holy christ--can I help you?"

Alana hadn't expected to be taken hold of so suddenly, her arm being grabbed with utter desperation. She almost yanks out of Casper's grasp before she really takes a moment to look at him. She doesn't know him that well but-- "Aren't you that consultant under Gordianus? The one that Jack is borrowing? What's wrong?"

Whatever it is, it can't be good. He doesn't look great, does he? It's not really unusual for consultants to look tired, overworked, whatever, but this is...different. She sighs, wondering what the hell she's really getting herself into. It's her fatal flaw, really. Alana can't help but want to help, in the end. "Just--say something. Tell me what's going on. It'll be fine."

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Altair  —  Sender  lifts  Receiver’s  chin,  locking  eyes. ( @manyfunerals - will & alana )

Star prompts || Accepting

There are a lot of things that Alana could say, but none of them feel quite right. I'm sorry that I didn't believe you. I'm sorry that I let him turn me against you. I'm sorry that he fooled every last one of us into thinking you were something you're not. She can't even think of Hannibal's name. It feels like a curse, like Bloody Mary, like if she looks into the darkness in the corner of the room and thinks about him hard enough, he'll appear like a ghostly specter.

They're all haunted now, it seems. Hannibal has left an undeniable mark on all of them, for worse (because there is no better when it comes to him). Alana sits there in her wheelchair, the silence between them stretching out into infinity. I've always cared about you, maybe even loved you. How could it have been so easy to pull the wool over my eyes?

She opens her mouth to say something, but Will's hand is suddenly on her chin, lifting it up so they make eye contact. It feels more intimate than anything that's been between them in a long time. "Will, I--"

Her voice cracks, and she sniffs, reaching up to take her hands. "..I'm sorry," is all she manages, blinking back her tears. "...All I can ask for now is your forgiveness."

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@fxntasmagoria from x

"I'm not playing with his emotions." Alana says it rather sharply, feeling her face heat up in both embarrassment and irritation. She's not necessarily surprised that this got back to Hannibal. He's Will's therapist, after all, and he's entitled to tell him whatever he wants, but fuck--she sighs, shaking her head. "I was being honest with him, Hannibal. I don't think it'd be good for either of us."

Even if she wishes it could be, but in the end, she thinks Will needs to focus on himself before committing to anything else. Alana worries about him, worries about what this all might do to him. If they were in any kind of serious relationship, she wouldn't be able to stop worrying. "Is this funny to you? You don't need to tell him that I was here."

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❛ there is no horror left in this world that can surprise me. ❜ (for Alana from Hannibal @fxntasmagoria )

"I wish I could say the same thing."

Alana has seen her fair share of horrific things. It comes with their line of work. Being a psychiatrist means peeking into the psyche and learning things about people that no one should ever know. She loves her job. She loves helping. She loves being that person someone could trust, and in turn, she helps them get better. That's the whole point, isn't it? To want people to get better?

She's seen a lot, but she never saw Will coming. Maybe she was blinded by her feelings for him, yet everything about this screams that something is wrong. Terribly wrong. Alana goes back and forth between Will's innocence or lack thereof, and for once...she can't figure out what the truth is.

"It just seems...out of character. Or maybe I didn't know his character at all." Her voice breaks, and she clears her throat. "I don't know. I don't know what to think anymore."

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“Stop looking at me like that.” @consiliummeum for alana? :3

Alana wishes she knew what to say. Nothing really feels quite right in the moment. Part of her thinks that she could've done a better job of talking Jack out of bringing Will back. He's not ready--he'd never be ready. Not really. She sighs, crossing her arms.

"...Will, I need you to be honest," she says after a few long moments, unsure if she wants to reach out and take his hand or not. She opts to not. It'd be too intimate (and god how she wants to show him that she cares, maybe too much). "I know that you're in therapy with Dr. Lecter, but...I need you to tell me if this is overwhelming you. I'm asking you as your friend. Not as a psychiatrist. I really worry about you."

It's as close to an admission of interest that's not clinical as she's ever been. Alana frowns, glances away. "Maybe I'm just being too personal, Will, but you need someone in your corner."

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anyways alana is a trans bisexual woman and no one will tell me otherwise

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safe? how can i ever be safe now? - abigail, for alana!

It's a loaded question, isn't it?

Alana sighs, scooting closer to Abigail's bed and resting her hand on her shoulder. She's not sure how comforting it is, and she really tries her best to not seem so...clinical. After everything she's endured, she needs a listening ear, not a psychiatrist listing off diagnoses and medications and and and--

"Well, you're safe here. I know it seems suffocating, Abigail, but you really have to try." Even if there are people who want her dead, who would do anything to get their revenge for their daughters' deaths by killing the next best thing. They wouldn't be able to reach her here, or at least that's the hope.

"You're safer here than you are outside these walls right now. I don't want you to go unattended, and you understand why. You just have to trust that things will turn out okay."