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spam - hannibal.

[Alana's eyes flutter open and she sits up slowly, rubbing at an eye. For the moment, she doesn't realize how much time has passed since she fell asleep to when she was finally waking, but something feels off and it's something she can't quite put a finger on to name. Alana stays in her bed for a moment, frowning as she tries to figure it out.]

[It's only when she hears her door open that she realizes what it is. It was far, far too quiet in her cabin. She's grown so used to having at least a dog around her that without the sounds of Winston, everything feels just inherently wrong. Alana gets up out of her bed, puzzled to find herself still clothed in what she thinks is yesterday's clothes. She decides it's not that important. It's likely just Abigail bringing Winston back from when she must have borrowed him for a little while. Alana doesn't mind that in the least bit. What she does mind is when she does emerge from her bedroom, she doesn't find Abigail Hobbs with Winston.]

[She finds Hannibal instead. Alana instantly freezes.]

video.

I apologize to everyone for the sudden absence, particularly to my patients, I was apparently in a coma for the past month.

[Which is easily the strangest thing to ever have to say.]

I'll resume sessions tomorrow. In the meantime, I'd be interested to know what I missed.

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[He inclines his head to her and pulls himself up to his full, lean height. He is not looking for sympathy or pity from her - not yet, anyway. So he endures the sensation of grinding bones, the small spasms of pain that he can only partially control. He puts on a good show, but he can't pull off a perfect one.]

One month.

[He says it without sorrow, with only a faint apologetic tone: sorry to be the one to tell her, but less sorry that she was out. She'll get back in the swing of things soon enough.]

You'll want to catch yourself up on the network: there are a great many strange things about to happen.

[With enough attention paid to Winston, Alana stands once more. Truth be told, she's not entirely comfortable with Hannibal standing taller than she is for very long even if he's clearly in a bad way.]

[One month though rings through her head. A whole month. There's no telling how much she missed the interim. And of course, there's her patients as well. She can only hope that they've been speaking to Charles or Jean if they needed someone despite how many of them generally distrusted telepaths.]

You don't look well. [She isn't being facetious, but Alana is as detached from him as she can get.] What happened?

[He's preparing to leave when she speaks again and pauses instead, careful of his expression. It's harder to control when his entire body is revolting against him, and his brows draw together briefly before he meets her eyes again.

He stands as straight and tall and proud as he can manage, holds her gaze perhaps a little too carefully.]

I died five days ago.

[Shocking that such a strange phrase can be uttered so commonly. He's certainly said it enough.]

[Died. Hannibal died.]

[It makes a startling amount of sense. Before she had lost consciousness, she remembered talk over the network about an increasingly difficult death toll taking place. Five days later and he's in this much pain? Alana can't say she exactly feels sympathy for him. She's more surprising by the notion that anyone or anything managed to kill him so easily.]

How did it happen?

[She's not looking to humiliate him. The pain he's in is punishment enough. But she is curious even if morbidly so.]

[He allows emotion to flicker across his face: anger, resentment, there and gone fast enough that he's not certain she'll notice. She might. It's a carefully calculated might.

When he breaks eye contact, it's not out of visible discomfort, beyond the obvious physical pain he's in. He looks down at Winston instead, aside to the recently used leash, toward wherever it is that Alana keeps treats for him. He doesn't display it clearly, but she might recognize the shift in weight, the broken eye contact, for what it is: embarrassment.]

I made an assumption I should not have made.

[He has admitted to being wrong to her in the past, but never truthfully. This is someone different than those occasions: he is intent on retaining his pride, rather than acting contrite for her sake.]

[She sees something flicker across his face. But it's gone so quickly it's hard to tell what it might have been or if Alana simply imagined it.]

[And then Alana sees something she didn't expect to see from Hannibal: honesty. He's embarrassed over his mistake. What's more, he's admitting to having made any mistake whatsoever. Before when he might have made a mistake, it was to quiet Alana. She knew well enough when he would admit to wrongdoing that was exactly what he was trying to do. And Alana saw no point in berating him further in any instance in which he had admitted a mistake to her. He knew even if his care was limited.]

It had to happen sooner or later. Regardless of how you see yourself compared to other people, Hannibal, you're still only human.

[She doesn't know if she means that as a small modicum of comfort for a former friend or a taunt to a known enemy.]

With the games you play with other people they can only ever end one way. You were on the receiving end this time.

[Alana wonders vaguely though if he's not prepared for that. The way he's pushed on Will. He was so careful in making Will a lone wolf unto himself, stripping him of any help he might have until he was ravenous and half-mad. Surely Hannibal would know that sooner or later, someone would turn on him. Even if that wasn't what he necessarily wanted, he had to know.]

[Whether taunt or concern, he takes it as pragmatism. Logic. She is right, of course. It had to happen sooner, or later. His brow creases briefly, and it takes effort to meet her eyes.]

You are right.

[That isn't difficult to admit. She has always been brilliant and insightful, even if she didn't always point that scope in the right directions.

He plays his part well, hiding his discomfort, swallowing it as best he can, with the barest hints of it on the surface. A spasm of pain makes his eye twitch in brief, and he swallows with some difficulty.]

I am only human.

[And so many here are not. So many foul, rude creatures here are more than human. He cannot exact his justice upon them, cannot treat them as pigs or chattel. Perhaps he isn't prepared for it. Her certainly wasn't with Bruce.]

[Those are not words she expected to hear from Hannibal. Not that he would ever really argue with her and tell her that she's wrong. But he is someone who seems to set himself apart from the rest. It had been, after all, part of the attraction and allure he had to other people. He carried himself with so much self-respect it was almost enviable on the outside. Whatever loathing or disgust he had for others, Hannibal kept to himself beneath a polite veneer. It was hard not to like him, to not want to be liked by him. Everyone fell for it. Everyone but Will.]

[Alana hesitates before slowly offering,] I can get you some pain pills from the infirmary.

It's the least I can do since you took care of Winston.

[Certainly not out of a place of pity. Definitely not seeking his approval any longer. But maybe the barest of human decency towards him since he is only human. An awful charade of one. But something human for the time being in front of her now.]

[If it was pity, he would politely refuse. It must show that his ego can only take so many strikes in one week. But it is not pity, and it is not friendship. He pauses, considering, and for a moment it appears he will decline anyway, on principle.

Instead, he inclines his head, and forces his eyes to meet hers.]

I would appreciate that very much. Thank you.

[It's suitable payment for his actions. He knows, truly, that it is one gesture in exchange for another, though perhaps not the one she states. Humanity responds to humanity, and he has learned to manipulate his very well.]

I'm sure Winston is glad to have your company again.

[He turns for the door.]

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